my american lost brother Wes and i woke up after three hours of sleep, drank a bath of coffee, but still nothing, our eyes simply decided to be on their own, so all the way to the car it felt like sleepwalking. 

we were both very excited, it was our first trip together, it was my first time in an american roadtrip with americans in a car i've dreamed to own for a very long time. 

inside of me it felt like a summer adventure, but outside it was still very cold, cold enough to not justify my choice of leaving home in a light blue denim shirt.

we picked up our other two trip fellows, Sam and Taylor, and crossed the city of Chicago as the first beams of light were slowly lighting up the inside of our car.

it was a day we decided to spend all on the road, driving through the little roads along the coast of the lake, without stopping. 

then we saw they were selling ice cream, so we stopped there to have lunch and enjoy a good ice cream with a temperature of 40 degrees. nothing better than eating an ice cream that can't melt.

as the sun was melting in the horizon, we reached a sweet old town where to let the engine rest and cool off. 

being just slightly off the beginning of vacations, Taylor was able to find a cheap motel room for only 12$. 

we were all so phisically worned out, our bodies dragged us inside the room and made us crash on the bed. 

we spent some time in the beach, watching the waves crash on the cold sand and the unusual tree, standing there alone

that day we met George. 

we were driving all the way north of the lake, we were almost by the feet of the bridge connecting michigan to the up, but we came across a huge garden full of old stuff of any kind and stopped on the brakes right after and made a u-turn. 

we scouted around to see if we could find anything we wanted to bring back home, but we couldn't find the owner of that, so we walked to the gas station next to it. 

a little gem of the sixties, still preserved the way it was, both outside and inside. all thanks to this beautiful old man. 

we spent an hour or so talking about life and women and his times in Italy during the early fifties. 

that day we crossed the bridge connecting michigan to the upper peninsula and as the sun faded away, we were by the lake on the left and an immensive forest on the right, speeding at the beat of Beach House.

the motel we spent the night at had some truly amazing owners. 

it was stuck in time. clean, yet old. 

we had breakfast in their living room, we talked a bit and after an hour, we took off to explore more of that beautiful land

towards the end of the third day we made it to wisconsin and spent the night in green bay.  

the last day we woke up later than usual and had breakfast in a sweet bakery in which we were by many years the youngest. 

we were exhausted, but still had few hours to be on the road before reaching home, so we drove to a lonely gas station and drank some coffee before taking the road for good.

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