I did a lot of driving over the last two weeks, going back up to the Midwest for a pair of weddings. At times, it was nice. At times, it wasn’t nice. In total, it was a learning experience. Here are the lessons it taught:
On the first day, at 5:07 AM, I looked around me and said aloud, “Am I in Waco?” I never want to write that sentence again. Also, it turned out I was in Temple, not Waco.
If undertaking an 18-hour drive, it’s better to leave at 4 AM than to arrive at 2 AM. If you’ve slept at least a decent amount. The day before the drive is going to be rough either way but arriving at 2 AM really messes up the day after the drive too. Takes a while to wind down after that (if your normal wakeup time is 10 AM and not 7 AM like mine just adjust these times back three hours).
People at Kansas rest stops are eager to help. They might not always know where the hot water is (I’m a big ask-the-cashier-if-it’s-cool-if-you-take-hot-water-because-you’ve-got-a-medicinal-tea-they-don’t-sell guy), but they’ll tell you where they’re confident it is with a smile, even after the person at the register just told you where it actually is.
If you lead with “4-piece” at a McDonalds, you’re getting the nuggets even if you order the tenders. This is a law of nature under which I failed myself by trying to save the cashier a follow-up question. “A 4-piece number 8 meal” is a phrase in which only “4-piece” is heard.
The Kansas Turnpike is pretty. If you disagree with this, one or more of the following is true: 1) You have never driven the Kansas Turnpike but feel entitled to an opinion on it; 2) You have driven the Kansas Turnpike but you never looked around; 3) The eleven dollars in tolls (pricy!) turned you off; 4) You think you’re too good for the Midwest; 5) You’re confusing the Kansas Turnpike with I-70 West of Junction City, and you also think you’re too good for the Midwest; 6) You’re from the Midwest and have had your self-esteem beaten down by smug coastals such that you cannot recognize the beauty of your own home.
Turnpike is a better name for a toll road than “toll road.” See: the last paragraph. Couldn’t have written that in good conscience about a simple toll road.
Driving through Duluth feels like driving through a mix of Appalachia and New England. First off, yes, I just accidentally described 90% of New England’s land area if using the broader Appalachia definition. Second, entering any town feels exciting when you descend into it from tree-covered hills, your ears popping while beholding a sprawling port. Add old homes to the mix as you wind your way up around the western tip of Lake Superior and it’s quaint. Add an overcast sky and it’s energizing.
We don’t talk enough about how cool the Great Lakes are. Freshwater inland oceans. Tell me why only Michigan gives these their due.
Pie also does not get enough love. Affirming the blessing that pie is in our lives should be a daily habit. Instead, it took driving past the end of I-35 for me to be reminded of its goodness (shoutout Betty’s Pies).
Of all the I-35 Corridor states, Iowa has the most expensive gas. I probably should have known this, because corn, but it was noticeable, and kind of a bummer, because I love Iowa.
Do not blow your nose too hard. There are still evidently boogers in my ear.
