Both my pregnant wife and 3.75-year-old son have been remarkable road trip companions, with Alistair insisting that we push on past Salt Lake to reduce drive time for tomorrow. I didn't even know kids his age had the cognitive ability to reason beyond their immediate level of boredom and discomfort.

I'm always amazed at what a great road-tripper Alistair is. I think it stems from his first taste of the road at the age of six weeks when we upped ship and left the Gotham metropolis for Fort Collins on what turned out to be one of the worst journeys I've ever undertaken - and that's saying something. Since then, he's been across the Atlantic three times (maybe four), with numerous other domestic flights; has done six hours up to the Bighorns to crew his dad all day (and all night) in the 100 miler there last year; did 1,000 miles to Las Vegas via Salt Lake City earlier this year, and then another 1,000 miles straight back; and now another 1,000 miles out to California, and I'm sure there's more that I'm not thinking of. The dude's a trooper - and so is his mom.

Anyway, we hit the road at 8:30 this morning, just thirty minutes after originally scheduled. The plan was to take it easy, with strict orders from multiple concerned parties to stop at least every two hours to let the pregnant lady get out and stretch her legs. The original first-planned stopping point was Elk Mountain on the High Plains of southeastern Wyoming, but we sped past the snow-capped peak after taking time to gas up and stretch in Laramie just an hour into the trip.

We stopped somewhere a couple of hours after Laramie, and then again in Rock Springs near the Utah border. I had listened to the US get robbed against Slovenia on ESPN radio through Wyoming, so had planned a stop in Rock Springs to catch the second half of the England vs. Algeria game, thinking England would be able to secure their berth in the second round with a convincing win. Had to hammer out some seriously ticket-worthy MPHs to get to Rock Springs by 1:30, and was left 45 minutes later wondering why the hell I still haven't learned my lesson when it comes to English football. Yet another dismal performance. Got the hell out of dodge as soon as the final whistle sounded and hit the road for Utah.

We were soon in Salt Lake, where we made a couple of wrong turns on their mess of a highway system. Coffee and treats from Whole Foods in Park City. And then the slog west across the Salt Plains. I told Alistair to be on the lookout for cars traveling the speed of sound, but we had to settle for police cars writing unfortunate drivers speeding tickets.

We finally pulled into town here in Wells a little after 8:00 and will take down the final five hours tomorrow. Looking forward to stretching the old legs in Cali - maybe a jog up to Emigrant Pass.