Day Two - Down the Rabbit Hole

The second day of a long trip is always markedly different than day one. Everything is a little less shiny, a little less magical. It doesn't help when everything out the window is flat and gray, covered with twisted, dead-looking trees and lonely, rundown looking buildings.

I passed a number of amusingly named things. Nameless Creek, Mount Comfort, Licking County. Alright, the last one is more disturbing than amusing, but you get the idea. I wonder if the people who invented those names knew that they would be passed down through the generations by spoken word at first but then put on an official metal sign on the side of a major highway. Probably not.

I also passed through Vandalia, OH, the birthplace of Wilbur Wright. Curious, I pulled off the road and followed the signs. I drove past small single-family homes, all of them well-kept and scrubbed clean looking, with shiny older cars sitting in their driveways. I have a five minute limit when it comes to things that I pull off to see: if it takes me longer than five minutes to get there, I turn around and go back to the freeway. Alas, nearly seven minutes of Ohio countryside later, I still had not found Wright's birthplace. How many birthplaces today are out in the middle of the countryside, further than seven minutes from the highway? Instead of roadside signs, will there be a plaque in the lobby of big shiny, renovated hospitals? Where's the fun in that? Or will we cease to care about the birthplace of our leaders, inventors, and creators. Sadly, I think we have already ceased to care. History books gloss over childhoods and give only the small sound bytes that our brains seem to care about.

Soon after I left Vandalia, the rain started. Slow and light at first, but soon, the water was covering my windshield in sheets. The water was so thick on the road that if I didn't follow the car or truck in front of me, I would lightly hydroplane. Delightful. There is something absurdly stressful about driving in the rain, especially when you can't see the lane lines on the road. For nearly an hour I drove on in the rain. Inara was quite intrigued by the frantic windshield wipers.

Then as I pulled up to St. Louis, MO with it's giant arch and big buildings, the rain stopped abruptly. The shining city on the river, freshly cleaned by the rainstorm. Of course, it was so early (especially with the time zone shift) that I was nowhere near ready to stop. So I drove on into the dark to Springfield, MO. Where I hung my hat in the crappiest little Ramada that you ever did see, with an internet connection out of the dark ages, and a view of a yard full of old truck tires. Ah, the glamorous midwest. The only thing edible offered in their tauted "Free Hot Breakfast" was a couple bananas and the "coffee." Thank goodness I'm getting out of here quickly.