Monday we started the day on the Chicago skyway on the road to some place called “Michigan.” From this strange sounding land we began our Canadian invasion.
So how did we get to that point? The short answer is a lot of hellacious driving, mostly through the Devil’s backyard of Indiana. If you’ve never been to Indiana, you’re fortunate, because this is all there is:
Corn
We flew through Georgia, Tennessee, and Kan-tuk-ee enjoying the always pleasing scenery of the South (why would you live anywhere else?) and then hit corn. Endless fields of corn. Not only was Indiana already the longest leg of the trip in the plan, but Tuce, true to form, screwed his personal financial business all up forcing us to ride along in the, well saying middle-of-nowhere in Indiana is redundant, farther reaches of nowhere to find a post office. Of course, that didn’t exactly work out thanks to the recent ravages of hurricane Ike’s left-overs. Nearly the whole of the state was flooded or out of power.
The main interstate to Chicago was shut down about two hours away, and we were diverted through more corn down a country road to another freeway on the other side of the state. It was great.
The highlight of the trip was when we stopped at a rural Indiana Wal-Mart and, while standing inline at the checkout, it came out that we were from Georgia. On hearing this, a woman behind me asked,
"What part of Georgia?"
To which I replied, Savannah.
"Really?" She said with excitement, "I'm from North Carolina!"
I was compelled to state,
"Oh yeah......That's not even close.'
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