The phantom of the open hearth lives -- somewhere in indiana

...one man's version of heaven is a super howard johnson's with 28 flavors and no lines for the rest room

...the end of an era -- riding the 'city of los angeles' on its last journey across the american west

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up at the malamute saloon

There's more to life than a hostess twinkie

And the bad guys are back on the shore, shaking their fists

The perpetual swish of windshield wipers is the soundtrack of our lives

It won't always be this way

...from its golden, ice-cold depths come the echos of lost battles, the sound of ancient victories, the noise of a million ball games

I might even snag one for old ahab himself

When there's no place to go but up

Like all great inner-tube specialists, he finally made the classic mistake

Make school or die

Mosquitoes and moon pies

Filthy rich at last

Bourbon and major wilkes' rocking chair

The great american tourist trap

Cha-cha lessons on c deck at 9am

Down in death valley

The devil on the bayou

I love cars, so there, ralph nader!

Chicago, chicago, that toddlin' town

Here today, guam tomorrow