I’m sitting at a dimly lit picnic table at a rest stop outside Ocala, Florida. The clock on my computer says 12:12 a.m..

Good…still time to hit the midnight Vegas Voice deadline in Las Vegas. Publisher Dan might be cranky for my timing, but I think he’ll take my column. At least I hope he will!

I did two shows today in Tallahassee, Florida today and have performed 52 times since I arrived in Brownsville, Texas on January 6th. For perspective, Brownsville sits along the Rio Grande, directly across from Matamoros, Mexico, and is the southernmost city in America.

It is precisely 1,565 miles from my home to my show – or about 23 hours of driving to get to show #1.

The Banana Pepper has been my sidekick for all 6,515 miles of this adventure, and has witnessed every up, down, left, and right of this crazy journey. Honestly, I’m not sure how she does it.

We often eat in the minivan on the way from our last show of the day, sleep at truck stops, or rest stops, or Walmart parking lots, shower and change in gyms, and she never complains. Never.

She thought I was crazy when I spent months setting up another three-month tour across America but was willing to join me the whole way. She thought I was really crazy when we drove over 700 miles to get from the Mexican border to Austin, Texas for three shows, and back to the Mexican border all in one day.

She thought I really lost my mind when I did two shows on Valentine’s day in McAllen, Texas, then rushed to the airport in Harlingen where I flew the redeye to Vegas for a show on Sunday, then went directly to the airport and met her in New Orleans for a 90-minute drive to Baton Rouge for my first of two shows at 10 am.

She drove all 757 miles and never said a peep.

Now that I think about it, as I look over my last crazy month and a half, something has become very clear to me. She’s wrong. Very wrong. I’m not crazy at all…SHE IS!