Random Roadtripy Thoughts
The distance between here and Champaign, IL seems to change. This time, 500 miles went by very, very quickly, probably because I didn't stop for lunch on the way out. By the time I was thinking about lunch (somewhere between Madison, WI, and Peru, IL) there was a medium-serious fog everywhere. It was the sort of fog that's perfectly OK for driving in during the day (visibility good a mile or so down the road, but no horizon at all), but makes you think uncomfortable thoughts about what will happen when it gets dark. So, I elected to eat snacks in my car and drive while there was light. By sunset, there was no fog, so it worked out well.
I always think of Wisconsin on Thanksgiving weekend as the Land of the Speeding Deer Corpse. Any pickup truck, SUV, or trailer on the road probably has hooves sticking up in the air or heads peering out over the edge. I'm perfectly fine with deer hunting. I feel that, so long as we've run off all the other natural deer predators, it's our responsibility to step up and fill the niche. I'm just amused that no one seems to put a tarp over the things. It gives me the impression that I've wandered into a 75 MPH back room boasting session.
Sometimes I listen to country music radio on car trips. Especially on Saturdays, as I move from public radio station to public radio station, my choices are "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" and "This American Life" over and over again. I love both shows, but three times in four hours is too much. The other choices, especially in rural Illinois, are country music or evangelical radio. Since evangelical radio is likely to impair my driving, country music it is. I feel like I'm eavesdropping on an alien culture.
Seen on a bumper sticker in Beloit, WI: "What's our oil doing under their soil?" (emphasis original). I'm really not sure where to start with that. I'm similarly baffled by "If Hell is the lack of love, then all Hell has broken loose," from a church sign in Urbana, IL.
Ah well. Home to Minnesota, where my new Night & Day Plow Routes flier from the city is in 4 languages this year, only one of which is of European extraction. I think the other three are Hmong, Somali and Vietnamese, but I'm not sure. And yet, it feels less foreign than the country music.
I always think of Wisconsin on Thanksgiving weekend as the Land of the Speeding Deer Corpse. Any pickup truck, SUV, or trailer on the road probably has hooves sticking up in the air or heads peering out over the edge. I'm perfectly fine with deer hunting. I feel that, so long as we've run off all the other natural deer predators, it's our responsibility to step up and fill the niche. I'm just amused that no one seems to put a tarp over the things. It gives me the impression that I've wandered into a 75 MPH back room boasting session.
Sometimes I listen to country music radio on car trips. Especially on Saturdays, as I move from public radio station to public radio station, my choices are "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me" and "This American Life" over and over again. I love both shows, but three times in four hours is too much. The other choices, especially in rural Illinois, are country music or evangelical radio. Since evangelical radio is likely to impair my driving, country music it is. I feel like I'm eavesdropping on an alien culture.
Seen on a bumper sticker in Beloit, WI: "What's our oil doing under their soil?" (emphasis original). I'm really not sure where to start with that. I'm similarly baffled by "If Hell is the lack of love, then all Hell has broken loose," from a church sign in Urbana, IL.
Ah well. Home to Minnesota, where my new Night & Day Plow Routes flier from the city is in 4 languages this year, only one of which is of European extraction. I think the other three are Hmong, Somali and Vietnamese, but I'm not sure. And yet, it feels less foreign than the country music.