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I work at a special ed school and in the horseshoe we argued about barbeque all year long. Our egos got in the way. Family traditions rose to the surface. Only they make the greatest barbeque ever and only they know of the greatest barbeque place of all time. They would rather stop breathing than concede defeat.

I listened to their tall tales all year long and I couldn’t take it anymore. I warned them. I surely did. It wasn't an idle threat. I up and took off on a BBQ tour of the Midwest to settle the question. All along my path things happened: apple flavor here, spicy over there, wedgy fries, a car wreck, a blowtorch, Tommy, Bear, a lightning blast, baseball, and those naughty rotund guys; curveballs if you will. Then I organized a Ribfest at school.

But I soon took to traveling again. And I redefined random: The Fever, a black box, a family reunion, and an idol for the ages. And then I traveled again, and again. What started out as something modest ballooned into something far beyond modest.

Who has the best barbeque? Where is the best barbeque? Admit it. You've asked those questions yourself, haven't you? We've all gotten that urge to hop in the car and go. I did. We all have an Uncle Joe who has the best sauce and the best ribs using secret ingredients we'll never find out in our lifetime. So come join me. It’s the journey more than the destination.