I pulled over, watched in the rear-view mirror as the cop pulled a U-turn and parked behind me. Snapped. The cop approached my window and leaned in. He was the perfect caricature of what you might expect of a Idaho highway patrolman; big droopy moustache, lemon-squeezer hat and authoritative swagger.
"You know here in Custer County, the speed limit is 60," he said. "You know how fast you were going?"
I shook my head. "Seventy-seven, son. That's a hefty fine. Show me your license, and car registration."
"Okay, here's my license," I said, fumbling for my wallet. "My rego - um, this is a rental. My papers will be somewhere."
The cop's mood lightened noticeably, as I spoke and tried to find my rental agreement in my pack on the passenger seat.
"Where are you from, son?" he asked.
"New Zealand," I replied.
"A little town called Taupo. Long way from home. Must say though, I love it here in Idaho."
That last part was a bit of a lie, but you do what do, right?
The cop smiled: "New Zealand, wow. I've always wanted to go there. Beautiful country."
For the next five minutes, all we talked about were the stunning mountains and lakes of New Zealand.
I gave him my card and said: "Drop me an email if you ever get there. I'll show you around."
The cop smiled: "It's your lucky day. Next town is called Challis. Stop there for something to eat, and rest a bit. When you start going again, keep your speed down."
I did stop in Challis - knocking back a toasted sandwich and a cold, cheap Pabst Blue Ribbon for lunch - but I would be lying if I said that I kept my speed down for the rest of my travels.
Still, a lucky break in a road trip of very rad proportions across the American Midwest.
Ben Stanley on his road trip. Photo / Ben Stanley
I'd picked up the rental at LAX on the first day of April, and, by the time I dropped it off in Chicago five weeks later, had covered 10 states and exactly 7000km.
Hitting the road is the only real way to see the States, and affordable too, given gas prices in the US.
Being on the road - to feel "nothing behind me, everything ahead of me" as highway veteran Jack Kerouac once wrote - is a true American experience. It is as authentic as a quarterback's touchdown pass, the sweaty stink of a New Orleans blues club, the sound of the closing bell on Wall Street or a long draw on a Lucky Strike cigarette.
The American road takes you places beyond that of your destination, or those planned to visit before you arrive.
A roadside wreck. Photo / Ben Stanley
When I think of my roadie, I struggle to condense memories into words to explain the awesomeness of filling up a rental car gas tank, and setting off into the world's most beautifully misunderstood country.
Without the road, how else could I have wound up in that legendary High Desert biker bar, Pappy and Harriet's, to watch grunge legends the Afghan Whigs play the night before Coachella Music Festival?
How else would have I stumbled across the haunting starkness of a snow-covered Earthquake Lake in Montana, or had a buffalo brush past my side mirror in Wyoming's Yellowstone National Park?
No other way - and no other way would I have found those people I met along the road, either.
The two cops from Baltimore on a boys' weekend at the Hooters Casino and Hotel in Las Vegas, who told about the best strippers in town and how many times they'd been shot in the line of duty. That sad, beautiful blonde-haired angel in Fallon, Nevada, and tears shed in front of an Air Force pilot's cafe.
The "coulda been someone" story of that failed baseball catcher in Wyoming that I heard over too many Jameson doubles.
The memory of any great roadie blanks out all the boring bits, of course.
Bacon and eggs at Tasty n Alder, Portland, Oregon. Photo / Ben Stanley
Seven thousand clicks across the States have plenty of endless quiet hours in front of the wheel, long nights spent at cheap Motel 6s and horrible, greasy diner lunches.
A reminder of that might come a couple of years down the track when a cop with a droopy moustache sends me an email when I'm back home in New Zealand.
"Howdy, son," it might read.
"You might not remember me, but I once caught you speeding in Custer County, Idaho ..."
PLAN YOUR ROAD TRIP
To book your USA road trip: See House of Travel.
Further information: See visittheusa.com.
CHECKLIST
Getting there: Air New Zealand flies daily to Los Angeles. There are multiple car hire agencies at LAX.
Getting around: Visit kayak.com to check for affordable rental car deals. A GPS is advised for any road trip, although Google Maps on your iPhone is fine. Failing that — a map book.
BE IN TO WIN
Take the quiz, find your roadie and be in to win $10,000 towards your ultimate USA roadie!
Ben Stanley travelled through Montana with the assistance from Visit Montana.
