‘A British accent opens doors’: 10 things I learnt about America by cycling across it

It can be easy to feel like you’ve worked America out. Its music, cinema, TV, literature and landscapes are ubiquitous in our everyday lives. And in this, a presidential election year, you can – if you so wish – follow every twist and turn to the White House, in real time. It’s box office stuff – when viewed from a distance, at least.

I have a long-standing soft spot for the United States. I studied American New Wave cinema at university and enjoy nothing better than to settle in with Steinbeck or Kerouac. But in recent years, I’ve pondered events across the Atlantic and seen a country I no longer fully recognise.

Because if you believe all the shouty think tank clones on rolling news channels or social media feeds controlled by narky algorithms, the United States of America has seldom been more disunited.

In the build-up to this November’s election, I figured that in order to better understand the USA, I would need to travel across it, slowly. So, I hatched a plan to cycle from its northwesternmost point, Cape Flattery, to its southeasternmost city, Key West. A coast-to-coast, and then some.

Over the course of 10 gruelling weeks, battling extreme heat, torrential rain and tornadoes, I crossed the Rocky Mountains, dissected the Great Plains and traversed the Everglades. All while interviewing hundreds of fascinating Middle Americans: Trump-voting farmers, Biden-voting librarians and everyone caught in the confusing hinterland between.

My journey is detailed in a new book, A Ride Across America and below are 10 of my biggest takeaways.

It’s the friendliest country on Earth

America is the land of superlatives. You can’t go a day without a diner claiming to have the world’s best burger or the thickest milkshake in the universe. Many Americans see their nation as “the greatest country on Earth”. Maybe not. But the friendliest? In my humble opinion, yes.

In Middle America, especially, I was bought countless breakfasts and offered more couches than I could ever sleep on. A touring bicycle with panniers certainly helps. Because for lots of people, a bicycle is a “children’s toy”. The idea of a grown adult cycling cross-country on one is unfathomably bonkers.

American cars are enormous – gratuitously so

Why is that teenager driving a V8 pickup? Does that 90-year-old really need a Hummer? Sure, call me a twee-minded Limey, but most American vehicles are absurdly sized. Moreover, the notion of car-sharing or – heaven forbid – using public transport, seems almost… un-American.

In Middle America, the car is king and perhaps more than in any other country on the planet, there exists a philosophy of: if something can be made bigger, then it should be made bigger. Often with zero thought to our shared environment.

Hundreds of small towns are dying and empty

The Interstate Highway System made cross-country journeys between major cities quicker and easier, but it decimated hundreds of small towns in between. Almost every afternoon on my 10-week journey I’d arrive in a new place and say, “Where are all the people?” – such was the feeling of a zombie apocalypse.

Many Middle American towns have the infrastructure to support ten times their population but now lack the population to support the infrastructure. A few highway-side megastores have prospered, but their success has sucked the heart out of small-town America, where independent stores once filled the high street alongside local newspapers and hardware stores.

But when you do discover a thriving one, it’s like striking gold

Some small towns either got lucky geographically (not too far from the interstate) or worked hard to create a tourism industry of their own. One such place is Lindsborg, Kansas – a.k.a. Little Sweden, USA – where 30 per cent of inhabitants can trace their ancestors back to the Värmland province.

Giftshops sell Scandi trinkets. The supermarket has shelves dedicated to Norwegian liquorice and Icelandic chocolate. Restaurants serve meatballs in creamy gravy and the bars flavour their cocktails with tart lingonberries. Meanwhile, herds of ornate Dala horses stand guard along the main street, beside a British-style phone box painted in the yellow and blue of Sweden.

Good luck finding fresh veg in America’s ‘food deserts’

When you move very closely across it, you realise that the country’s epic scale has been its Achilles heel. What struck me time and time again was the lack of fresh food. Many small towns have just a gas station selling super-processed, mostly beige and fried items, pumped with chemicals to extend their shelf life.

There are 76 counties in the US that don’t have a single grocery store and these “food deserts” typically affect low-income communities. Ironically, however, some of these regions correlate with the most fertile soil on the continent. It wasn’t uncommon to spend the day riding through citrus, apples, maize and potatoes, before then having to survive on instant noodles and burgers for dinner.

A British accent opens doors

Many Americans adore Britain and Ireland. And they love telling you about a long-lost relative across the pond, their adoration of the monarchy or an addiction to Inspector Morse. In some gas stations I’d have people queuing up to chat. “Hey, you’re not from round here, are ya?” they’d say, before launching into an anecdote about The Beatles or King Charles.

My secret weapon in times of trouble? Received pronunciation. The trick is to sound more Downton Abbey than Oliver Twist. And on more than one occasion it saved my bacon. “Excuse me,” I said to an old couple in Arkansas. “But I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a lift across this bridge? Or I’ll end up as flat as a pint of British beer!” And before I could say “Midsomer Murders”, the seats were down and I’d been bundled into the back.

So much of America is closed off to the public

Britain isn’t perfect, and a lot of our green spaces are ringed by barbed wire, but in contrast to the United States, we live in a utopia. Almost every American road is lined with fences and signposts, stating: “POSTED. KEEP OUT.”

America’s first president, George Washington, said: “Freedom and property rights are inseparable. You can’t have one without the other.” This philosophy remains hardwired into the national psyche. After this ride across America, I will never take Britain’s public right of way for granted again.

America’s tipping culture is out of control

I like to tip. I believe that good service and good food should be rewarded with an extra 10, or even 15 per cent. I do, however, want to reserve the right not to do so. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? In America, however, that choice has all but vanished, and customers in restaurants and bars are now asked to tip as much as 25 per cent.

What really riles is when fast food restaurants – including Starbucks – ask customers to tip staff for simply handing them a cup. No table service. No chit-chat. No going the extra mile.

The country is epic and often feels empty

Owning a passport is a relatively recent American concept. In 1989, just three per cent of adults had one. Now that I’ve cycled across the country, I can understand why. Not only is America vast, with a seemingly infinite network of roads to explore, but it’s diverse, too – meteorologically, geographically and culturally.

Sights like the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls and Mount Rushmore can all be driven to from your own front door. It therefore comes as no surprise that more than 11 million households own an RV. These Americans are proud, too. Those lush, cinematic landscapes you’ve seen in the movies? This is their sprawling backyard.

Don’t write off Trump

I interviewed dozens of Trump voters on my ride across America. And I hate to break it to some of you… they were all rather nice people. Hospitable, generous and fiercely patriotic. Somehow, a billionaire from New York continues to resonate with Nebraskan maize farmers, Montanan oil workers and Idahoan train drivers. Go figure.

Unlike in the UK, where you might see an occasional A4 “We’re voting Lib Dem” poster in a kitchen window, Americans go big on their public displays of political affection. It wasn’t uncommon to see homes brandishing flags the size of badminton courts.

But if you’re looking for a steer on what might happen on November 5, then I’m afraid your guess is as good as mine.

A Ride Across America: A 4,000-mile adventure through the small towns and big issues of the USA is published today (July 18). Simon Parker will be speaking at theatres and literary festivals all over the UK this autumn. For more information, visit his website www.simonwparker.co.uk/books.