Six hundred miles ago we pulled out of our driveway and headed west. It wasn’t at the four o’clock hour Earl had hoped for; rather it was at the more humane seven o’clock hour. Regardless, we drove to York, Nebraska before getting off the road. It was dark by then, just as it was dark when we left this morning.
In between, we saw rain, trucks, and rest stops.
The rain was fairly relentless until we got to Omaha when the sun made its appearance just in time to set. The thing about driving west is that it sets in your eyes and for about an hour squinting is the optimal way for me to see what’s going on outside the windshield. Earl, being taller, uses the sun visor.
We also made a return visit to the Iowa 80 truck stop, billed as the largest truck stop in the world. Even though I haven’t been in every truck stop, I grant the title to the Iowa 80. I suspect its size equals the Smithsonian. The chicken fried steak Earl had for lunch looked as if it had come from that hallowed museum as well. Does chicken fried steak usually curl up like a misshapen Frisbee®?
We’ve also taken to bringing a cooler of snacks and beverages with us when we travel by car, which means Cracker Barrel has lost one really good customer and his more critical companion. (Stopping at the truck stop was an exception to our new traveling style.) The cooler also means we keep an eye for signs reading “Rest Area – 3 miles ahead.” They provide rest room necessities and a chance to switch drivers. As we pulled in to one rest area, I wondered how many truckers parked there had also visited the Iowa 80. Earl’s thoughts were more practical, as he commented how much product is moved around the country by trucks these days.
Hmmmm. I know Earl. He loves to drive; he loves trucks and truck stops. He loves chicken fried steak. Could there be a new career in the offing?
Leave a Reply