As a Briton, there is no greater country to travel in than the USA

In many parts of the world, being British is something to keep schtum about. Our history of empire building, and the booze-fuelled behaviour of some modern holidaymakers, has seen to that. In America, however, I’ve always been made to feel like a long-lost cousin. 

It’s a welcoming country in the first place, and travelling by bicycle certainly helps, but speaking The King’s English is the key – in my experience – to unlocking The Special Relationship. 

Time and again on my US odyssey, I found myself lured into deep and personal conversations with strangers. Perhaps it’s because freedom of speech – as ratified by the First Amendment – is so hardwired into the American psyche that the average citizen doesn’t bother with small talk or flim-flam, but cuts directly to the chase. 

“I’ll give you a quote,” said a retired bank manager I met in small-town Nebraska, sitting alongside a table of Trump-voting farmers. “We believe in the GGC: Guns. God. And Country!”

In the diners and convenience stores of Middle America, it is no exaggeration to say that people formed orderly queues to tell me about long-lost relatives in Scotland or Wales, their adoration of the British monarchy, or an addiction to the English Premier League. Fending off questions about Downton Abbey, warm beer, and milky tea, I felt like a one-man tourism attaché (albeit without a suit and tie but dressed in sweaty Lycra). 

And while I confess to not wanting to actually live in the land of Stars and Stripes – with its guns, private health care and baffling tipping culture – it is a country of such open-armed sincerity that I plan to return on holiday many times. Furthermore, I’m desperate to share the nation with my daughter. Once I’ve introduced her to its epic landscapes via films like Easy Rider, Midnight Cowboy and Thelma & Louise, we’ll take a road trip and see them with our own eyes.