For a guy from Ohio, whose parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents were also from Ohio, the question of family roots just hadn’t progressed beyond: ‘What part of Ohio are we from?’ This would all change in the weeks leading up to the author’s first trip to Scotland, when he inadvertently discovers he is one of the 27 million Americans descended from Scottish stock - and not just any stock but a castle-storming, Viking battling line which gave rise to Scotland’s most revered hero. Armed with a newfound swagger, the author transforms a much anticipated, romantic holiday with his wife into a decidedly unromantic, though highly romanticized roots tour with comic results. Crammed into their tiny rental car (a Fiat Crumb or some such model), the couple scour the countryside, from castles to trailer parks, looking for something more to commemorate Crawford history than a family crest refrigerator magnet - and ultimately discover something altogether richer: a thriving country with the most beautiful and haunting scenery imaginable, a romantic history full of blood, intrigue and heroism, and some of the friendliest and most fiercely loyal people in the world.