Rollin' down 80

Yesterday was the most peaceful day of the journey. We stuck to Highway 80 traveling through the last little bit of Illinois, all of Iowa, and we hit a little bit of traffic outside Omaha. I love Iowa drivers and I love the small-faced sunflowers that grow like weeds on the side of the Western Iowa/Eastern Nebraska roads.

If you find yourself in this bit of country traveling without a furry feline friend in 100 degree weather, you might want to visit the following places (signs of which we passed along the way):

• Ronald Reagan's birthplace
• WOW! World's Largest Truck Stop
• Herbert Hoover Presidential Library and Museum
• Amana Colonies
• The Danish Immigrant Museum
• Union Pacific Railroad Museum
• The bridge in Council Bluffs that reminds me of Edward Scissorhands

Final push today...

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Today's tunes:
Illinois - Sufjan Stevens (okay... maybe I listened to this in Iowa and not Illinois, but I had to...)

Illinoise

Once upon a time, two Meg(h)ans traveled North from Denver, CO, entering the exciting, yet desolate territory of a state they had yet to conquer: Wyoming. They found themselves in the wilds of Cheyenne surrounded by cowboy boot-iques and farmer's market stands. While strolling down the main drag, they noticed a sign: Highway 80 - Lincoln's Highway...

Though I very much disliked my ride to my friend Meghan's apartment via Lincoln's highway on Tuesday, it was appropriate that I arrived using this route. My only other experience with this road was with Meghan a little over a year ago as we took one last road trip to bid farewell to the West.

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Yesterday was a great day. Meghan drove my dad and I across the border to Wisconsin where we experienced amazing cheese sandwiches, brats, cheese and cauliflower soup, and fresh, local potato chips at Baumgartner's, the oldest cheese shop in Wisconsin. We tossed dollar bills (weighted with a stack of quarters and a tack) to the ceiling where they will remain until Cheese Days, the third weekend in September, when they will be donated to a local charity.

My dad posing in front of Baumgartner's. Monroe, WI.

After lunch, Meghan drove us to New Glarus Brewing. I've had beer from New Glarus before and I really enjoyed it, but I didn't expect to like every single beer I tried and I was STUNNED when my dad also liked every beer he tried. He has mentioned several times on this trip that he likes "clean, crisp, American beer" and not the "sludge, craft beer" that I like. At New Glarus, my dad discovered that not all of the beer I like is the "sludge" that he dislikes. The bottom line: New Glarus is my favorite and I think it's my dad's favorite, too.

My dad, me, and Meghan at New Glarus Brewing.

Our final stop on our mini-road trip: Dragon Popcorn (a gem in Meghan's former small town). We walked out with Cheddar, Bacon Cheddar, and Puppy Chow flavored popcorn and acquired Choco-Roon (macaroon flavored popcorn!) from Meghan. The tastiest popcorn I've ever had.


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Today's tunes:
Let It Be Me - Ray LaMontagne
Rivers and Roads - The Head and The Heart
You and I - Ingrid Michaelson
1952 Vincent Black Lightning - The Mammals

The longest day

Rant:
Drivers have rules to follow. There are those rules set forth by the state they are licensed in, those established by the state they are driving in, and the "rules" imposed by the cars they drive ("Do not overheat the car while accelerating up the side of a mountain."). There are also rules of common sense which IL drivers do not follow. Yes, folks, the IL drivers (specifically those just outside of Chicago) have won the title of "worst drivers" so far on this trip. They simply do not follow rules of common sense. For example, a rule of common sense states that you need to be aware of how big your vehicle is so, you know, you don't start to merge into another lane when your vehicle simply won't fit. Oh! Another rule, which I LOVE, is the rule that states truck drivers should drive like they are driving a vehicle weighing so many more tons than us rinky dink cars instead of acting like they are driving a sports car. Also, maybe not a rule, but certainly a courtesy, is not hugging the right line of the fast lane when you have a whole left shoulder to play with (especially if you are unaware of your vehicle's size to begin with).

What happened to the 3 second rule, viewing the front tires of the car behind you before merging into a lane to pass, and drivers checking their blind spots? People are stupid. This is my answer to everything I have seen on the road so far that makes me cringe, gasp, and yell.

End rant.

Yesterday was a long day. 13 hours on the road, whether that was driving, stopped at an OH rest stop waiting for heavy rain to pass (OH totally wins the best rest stop award so far), or pulled over trying to get my cat to drink some water. Luckily we avoided terrible Buffalo traffic, but we hit some Cleveland and Chicago traffic in the early part of the morning and afternoon rush hours. Moments of road trip joy arose when driving past Elkhart, IN, staring in awe at the RV/MH Hall of Fame (nah, we didn't go in), discussing the differences between recreational vehicles and motor homes with my dad, and discovering that I have erroneously called every big, road-boat, camping and touring looking vehicle an "RV" all of my life. Seeing signs for the Bone Shed near Ottawa, IL, and dozens of huge windmills just off the side of the road also brought a sense of excitement.

And finally we made it to the lovely apartment of a good friend and her beautiful dog. Good food. Good beer. Good sleep.

Found on Flickr. Photo by Mark Nye.

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Today's Tunes:
The Lumineers - The Lumineers
The Beast in its Tracks - Josh Ritter

Talkin' Proud

I like the Yankees because my grandparents (hailing from Staten Island, NY) love the Yankees. I like the Giants because I watched them practice at their summer training camp in Albany. I even like the Packers, because any Joe Shmoe can buy stock in the team, and the Celtics because I was in Boston when the city shut down for a communal victory dance in the summer of 2010.

Me and my Dad before hitting the road...

But, my favorite team is the Buffalo Bills. My Dad was raised right outside Buffalo and my childhood is littered with moments in front of the TV hearing him hoot and holler for his hometown team, in awe of how devoted someone could be to a bunch of men in tights and flashy headgear. Sure, there's family history there, but what really seals the deal is the pride with which all of Western NY seems to support this underdog team.

That pride extends beyond sports (What else does a dilapidated, Rust Belt city have to hang its hat on if not pride?). There's Beef on weck, the Albright Knox Gallery, a presidential past and present, an academic library housing my Grandpa's thesis, Buffalo wings, visits by Ghost Hunters (the real deal, not just the local paranormal investigators), and, most of all, there's even a theme song which rallies the locals (at least the locals of the '70's).


I spent all of yesterday afternoon (accompanied by my dad and his childhood friend) meeting a lot of proud Buffalo residents, learning the ropes of using tokens and condiment cups to buy others a drink at the local VFW and the Polish Falcons, listening to the career plans of my Dad's godson and the roar of his brand new Mustang, and touring the neighborhood where my Dad grew up (with a sundae from Antoinette's in tow).

My Dad and his childhood friend at ye local VFW.

Well, the proud city of Buffalo has experienced quite a lot of changes over the years, so, it's certainly appropriate that my trip began in the Nickel City...

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Today's tunes:
"Sweet Expectations" (playlist created by Kylie specifically for the trip)
Deux Guitares - Deux Guitares

Stay tuned...

This week, after 5 hours spent packing, unloading, and repacking a UHaul, a Hyundai, and a POD, a total of 559.2 miles driven over 6 hours, and, with the help of family and able-bodied and gracious History professors, my "stuff" (boxes of clothing, books, furniture, and the "essentials" contained within a one-bedroom, basement apartment) found its way to my parent's front lawn.

My stuff sits in a POD, which reminds my mom of pod people and makes me think of science fiction and flying saucers and spacecrafts levitating and hovering over suburban communities. In fact, this POD does levitate and the hydraulic lift technology it uses was surely, at one time, science fiction. The magical truck came to lift the magical POD (which is less magical when opened, revealing mountains of very ordinary "stuff") off to the warehouse (read: mothership) and it will be magically delivered to my new apartment in CO in a couple of weeks.

Since there was so much driving involved in transferring my "stuff" (there really isn't a better, family-friendly word...) from Delhi to Troy, I figured this would be a good inaugural post, reminding you that, yes, in fact, Megan will meander again and this blog will highlight the adventures about to unfold...

Flying tourists

I think another f word is more appropriate to describe tourists most of the time, but that's beside the point.

American Gothic, tourist style, at Albany Airport.