In Minnesota, a woman asked where we were headed as she wrapped our sandwiches in butcher paper. "Oregon," we replied. "We live there." She then asked if she could come too, said she would lay quietly on the roof. Later in Sioux Falls, we asked what there was to see as we checked into our room. "Nothing really," said the woman at the front desk. "There's nothing here to see. Maybe the falls at sunset." Meanwhile, the same winds that blew us east across the prairie in March dared us to travel against them today. Meanwhile, a mother deer ran out from the grass in front of us. I remembered yesterday and hit the brakes. A long-legged fawn soon followed. Meanwhile, the Amish raised a barn in Wisconsin as we whizzed past. Life goes on, doesn't it? A mile a minute if you let it.
"There's nothing here to see," said the woman at the front desk, but still, after 9 hours in the car, we went out looking. Wouldn't you?