Things on Trucks
Iowa is sensible and understatedly beautiful. It’s shaped in a rectangle and, on a map, the cities (although by California standards they ought to be called areas of somewhat greater population) are equidistant along highways that hang like a net over the state. Symmetry is so rare in a state’s shape that it makes mundane Iowa seem downright special.
The fear of an Omaha rush hour never materialized despite our leaving at 8:30 a.m. from the western edge of town and driving straight through the heart if it. Maybe everyone was at work already?
We opted for breakfast in Council Bluffs, Iowa, just across the Missouri River at a place called both Duncan’s and Legends (not very sensible). Two cups of tea, an omelet, an egg and sausage plate, and one bowl of oatmeal with the option of raisins OR brown sugar (that’s more sensible) ran us a whopping $13 and change. You’d think it would be an unhurried place with “sweetie” and “honey” thrown loosely around, but our server would do just fine as an NYSE trader.
Me: I’ll have the eggs and sausage.
She: linksorpatties?
Jen (as I struggled to unlock the language): Links, and I’ll have the veggie omelet.
She: whitewheatorraisintoast?
Me: No toast, please (sparing Jen the shaming glare of asking about gluten-free bread).
Perhaps my idyllic notions of Iowa were way off. We got back on our final stretch of I-80 before angling toward Madison on state route 151 at Iowa City and saw — no kidding — a BART car being ferried west on a semi trailer. We then saw a series of wide-load trailers carrying what seemed like ICMB silos, alien whale bones, farm implements intended for massive GMO-only harvesting, and other things you just don’t see being pulled through Oakland. It was as though everything America makes has to pass the unwavering brow of eye-o-wa for some birthplace-of-contour-farming stamp of approval. A California-plates caravan of two included.
The last stop before crossing the Mississippi into Wisconsin was Dubuque, where the local grocery had 10 Tesla supercharging stations lined up for a future generation of farmers. They complete a charge in an hour versus the usual 6 or so, but we didn’t whiff a Tesla until we arrived in Madison around 7 p.m. Friday. We made it (and promptly slept for three days)!
