America is a land of awful sandwiches, of industrially produced, sugary bread; of rubbery, microwaved half-meats; of watery, shredded lettuce. The one city that doesn’t tolerate mediocrity is Philly. Philly’s urban density means there is a never-ending appetite for classic comfort as well as hoagie experimentation, and that density gave me the idea to do a Philly sandwich tour by bike.

There’s a stretch of I-70 in Utah which runs through a landscape nearly bleached of color. Then, once in the town of Green River, there is a former gas station repainted in bright yellow and orange hues with a truck reading MEXICAN FOOD and a sign reading TACOS.