“Liberté” is how Josef described his life to me, distilling it down to a single word. As he said it a second time, he lifted his hands, palms up, toward the sky and faced the sun, smiling, “Liberté.”

I saw him up ahead, walking along the shoulder of the highway leaving Mesa, Arizona, backpack and trash bag full of clothes. As I zipped by with a list of reasons not to stop, I saw the small cardboard sign: “GALLUP, NM.”

Kurtahs Mikhael and Parker Viers joined Kooky's Road Trip today for a photowalk around Globe, Miami, and Superior in Arizona.

There’s a lot more to bobsledding, I’ve learned, than the push, getting in quickly on an icy surface, holding on for dear life, and screaming at the top of your lungs while racing, as quickly as possible, to the finish line…and stopping.

"The ice is wicked today," one of them said. "You're going to see some crashes."

I arrived at the hotel where I like to stay in Zumikon, Switzerland, just up to hill, outside of Zurich...

They say “you can’t go back.” Well, I just did it. I threw a few clothes in a bag, packed some cameras and film, put on my boots, my hat, and headed south toward Lamar, Missouri in my ‘96 Ford F-150 with Biggie in the back seat.

As we pull into the lot in front of the big sign, I realize just how right Kurtis was...this is fantastic!

Have you ever met someone you liked immediately?

I was up the block a ways when I saw her, singing an old country tune. I dropped a dollar in her basket and asked if I could take her picture.

I saw it from the interstate, the old, neglected, neon, motel sign sitting along old Route 66. I had to exit and go back. The old motel was as neglected as the sign. This place hasn’t had a patron in ages...

I pulled into Tombstone on a warm and sunny late Tuesday morning and was immediately underwhelmed. I’m not saying don’t go there, I’m just saying I’m not a big fan of things that smell too “touristy.”

As I pulled up next to the old Kingman, Kansas train station, the one on the edge of town, not downtown, all these cats came running out to greet me. Not just a few, but around 12 at quick count.

“I’m hungry,” I said to myself after getting my tires fixed in Shamrock, TX. Hmmm...Wynoka is only a few hours away.So with German food and bier on my mind, I texted Dieter to see if he had room. He replied with some obscure text I didn’t understand so decided to call.

What is it with Kooky’s Road Trips and wrecks on the first night?I had JUST posted that this one is dedicated to an awareness of our mortality and there he was, lying in the middle of the highway that runs through Kingman, Kansas, his crumpled bike a few yards away.

I went to see Clarence last Friday and he was in good spirits. He had been moved to a hospital type bed and was on oxygen and morphine, so, understandably, he was in a great mood. We joked about a lot of things as we passed the time, then he said to me "I really like your hat...can you order me one?"

As I was cruising through rural Missouri, from Appleton City to Golden City, with Cooky's Cafe on my mind, I saw a building off the road and wanted a photo. I liked the way the shadows were hitting the porch and loved it's pristine condition.

A week ago Tuesday started out simply enough...we woke up early and hit the road north to Marceline, MO to tour the Walsworth Publishing plant, then lunch at Tall Paul's in Bucklin, MO with Meghan Viers Jolliffe, Joe Cupp, and Beverly Cupp. From there, Jonathan and I would wander rural Missouri so he could get a glimpse of life out here.

She rolled the windows up, cranked the volume up to eleven, laid her seat back, and closed her eyes, lost in the moment.

I saw what appeared to be a homeless man, on his knees curled over, forehead on the ground. He wasn’t moving....

I stopped along the back roads I was taking home in a little ghost of a town named Prescott. I let Biggie stretch her legs while I had a cigar and enjoyed the quiet of the neglected baseball Diamond on the edge of town. As we sat there, I watched a young father giving his toddler a ride on his motorcycle. Around the block he went...then again....

I'm planning a short, impromptu Kooky's Road Trip to the Lamar Free Fair, in Lamar. MO. I'll wander south this afternoon, drop by the fair tomorrow and blow through some film, then head back north at some point.

The conversation I would like to hear happening at our southern border: Border Patrol Officer: “Welcome to the United States of America. How may I help you?” Asylum Seeker: “We would like to apply for asylum in this country.” BPO: “Oh, I’m sorry that you felt you had to leave your home and family to do this. Please, come with me and we’ll start the application...."

Every time I get a little cocky about my traveling prowess, something will happen that reminds me that I’m just a dope. Case in point, two nights ago I arrived in Oslo, Norway. Now this isn’t my first time here, and I’ve learned, after many trips, that Oslo is very expensive. But there are a few tricks to save a few Krone.

As I walked along the sea in Reykjavik, Iceland on this perfect afternoon, taking shots of the rocks various people had stacked on the shore and enjoying a cigar, an older lady stopped her bike behind me and started talking to me in what I assume was Icelandic.“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,”

I want you to drive me to Colfax Ave. so I can photograph old stuff....

I was wandering around Mound City, MO taking pics of anything of interest. I snapped an old movie theater with my Rolleiflex 2.8 and moved on. I was weaving through the residential areas when this strange little building, maybe it was once a salon, came into view. I turned the truck down the hill to get a shot.

I got pulled over today. After a fun morning teaching Adobe Photoshop, InDesign, and Bridge at he Panhandle Press Association convention in Amarillo,Texas I was home bound. Heading over to Oklahoma City on I-40 then north on I-35 was the quickest route, but who wants that when one can take the back roads and see abandoned airports and rural America?

How about another Kooky’s Road Trip? This time, a short one, to Amarillo, TX.

The first time I heard Navajo spoken as a natural course of conversation was in Holbrook, Arizona. I was in an art gallery that sold various Indian art. The owner, Nakai, spoke to one of the locals, who dropped by, in his native tongue. He sold me a ring in English.

Day Eight: For the whole story here, I need to backtrack about seven years, maybe. Not sure, my life’s been a blur. I was driving home from Pampa, TX and staying off the main roads. I wanted to see what was going on behind the scenes...

Day Seven: I needed a cup of Joe to keep me homeward bound. I stopped in this tiny town and am at the only place in town, having good coffee and talking with the old timers. I love this stuff.

Day Seven: It was 26 degrees in Gallup as I pulled out of the El Rancho Hotel parking lot, and I had the frost on my windows to prove it. After a couple of lousy cups of free lobby coffee I was off...next stop Tucumcari.

Day Five: You are NOT going to believe this story. You’re NOT. NOT ... NOT ... NOT! I was filling up the Rambler with gas yesterday in Holbrook, shortly after leaving my Wigwam, when the guy filling up next to me says...

There was a wreck last night on I-84, just outside Nampa, ID. It was one of those bad ones where you can see flashing lights up ahead, and plenty of them.