Westward Bound

I started out early in a rented mini van with too many bells and whistles. The usual route takes me through Hot Springs, North Carolina, but there was a detour that skirted it. I always wondered about that little road that ran alongside a river, through morning-misty mountains and rolling fields, finally connecting with the highway coming into Newport. Its a beautiful drive and I'm glad I was finally forced to try it.

There is nothing particularly notable about interstate highways. They do tend to change from state to state but not enough to excite me. I drove through southern Illinois and stopped at a little gas station/cafe at an unknown crossroad. It was tiny, the only other building was a barn with 'antiques' painted on the side of it and a fairly new tractor parked in front. Surrounding this whistle stop was rolling cropped-corn pasture land and the highway with its border of green weeds shaded with the muted purple and pale gold of grasses going to seed. At least there are trees here. I could be in Kansas.

Battered pickles...gotta love 'em!

At the cafe, I was served a very good cheeseburger that tasted like real meat served by an ever-smiling young lady who was minding her dad's store. I was curious about a sign for batter dipped pickles and asked the older woman behind the counter what she thought of them. She doesn't like them, she told me, but I couldn't see surviving another year of life without trying them out. So I did. They were indeed strange but couldn't have been too bad because I ate them all.

Then I drove on snapping only a couple photos on my way of the St. Louis arch as the sun was going down. What do I like most about driving west at 70 mph? The sunsets that go on forever!