Road Trip Diaries

Debbie started the day by making me go and fetch her some orange juice and a muffin from the hotel’s breakfast room, which I did because I am kind. I got a coffee and a danish pastry out of the deal.

After checking out, we got in the car. Debbie prodded the "scan" button on the radio, and found a jaunty song sung by children about whether or not you could beat God in a race. Apparently you can’t, because He is very fast, and strong, and powerful; but he is your friend. Then, a man with the voice of Reverend Lovejoy from The Simpsons explained to us that God can indeed be our friend, but that we must remember that He hates sin. Then he told us the story of Elijah and Elishah. "Horses and chariots of fire? Can this really be true?", challenged the voice. But yes, apparently it really was true. Why? "Because it is the word of God".

We paid a visit to the Fort Dodge frontier village and fort museum.

It was hot: hovering around 98ºF (making the car’s display read in ºC involves taking it to a servicing agent). By the time we’d had a look at a few of the reconstructed 19th century frontier settlement buildings — a home, a school, a church etc. we were both sweating buckets.

Lucky for me I could spend some time in the cooler. Haha.

There are various theories about that classic Wild West sharpshooter pose being caused by saddle sores. I’ve decided it is caused by sweat buildup in the armpits and nether regions.

The gloriously air conditioned exhibits section of the museum is a museum in the old-fashioned sense: lots of unrelated stuff on show. We didn’t have time to take it all in. A friendly local talked to us, and reeled off claims to fame related to Iowa and Fort Dodge. Mr Hilton of Hilton hotels is an Iowan, you know. So was Buffalo Bill. John Wayne…. and many more.

Meanwhile, I was impressed by a painting of some ugly children, a gas mask that reminded me of Doctor Who episode The Empty Child, a piano exactly like one un Ulysses S Grant’s house which I’d noted as never having seen the like before, and a replica of The Cardiff Giant, a famed hoax fossil. It would never have taken me in.

We bought some postcards in the gift shop, and got back on the 20.

We stopped for lunch in Rockwell City, where the Hometown Cafe gave us our first bad food of the holiday; nasty burgers in nasty buns. The pickles were OK, as were the fries…

A little later on, we passed through Early, which claims to be "the crossroads of the nation". Quite why eludes me. US-20 has a kink as it passes through, so there’s not even a proper crossroads unless you count county roads. Just West of Early, though, we saw literally hundreds of windmills, which was awe inspiring.

Since I was out of the car taking photographs of the windmills, I snuck among the corn to relieve myself. Think on next time you’re eating sweetcorn.

We crossed into Nebraska, bypassing Sioux City, then stopped to buy petrol in Laurel. We noticed that in these parts Super Unleaded is cheaper than regular Unleaded. It seems that Super is 10% ethanol, and I wonder whether locally produced ethanol (fermented  waste biomatter from corn perhaps) might be cheaper than petrochemicals at the moment.

While we’re hypothesising, are the water towers that loom over small communities, and often bear the name of the city, merely relics? It seems unlikely that they could provide enough water for all homes, garden sprinklers and crop irrigation gizmos we saw everywhere.

In the 100 miles or so from Sioux City to our destination in O’Neill we passed through a small community every 20 miles or so, but other than that we saw little other than corn, cows, tractors and horses. We did at one point see a large trailer left on the roadside, upon which was daubed "VOTE BUSH. PRO LIFE. GOD’S CHOICE". It seems like abortion was the major election issue in the farm belt.

One town boasted a "Klown Doll Museum". We didn’t stop. Debbie pointed out that clown dolls are inherently scary. I was scared by the egregious way in which the letter "K" had been substituted for a "C". We all know where rural white Americans have done that before.

On the last leg of this drive, the car thermometer flicked up to 102ºF. Also, we passed our 2000th mile of the trip.

We arrived in O’Neill, Nebraska, and finding nothing particularly interesting about the few independent motels, wimped out and went for the Super 8, with its free WiFi. You see, it’s a surefire business winner.

As we unloaded our stuff, I noticed a tractor filling up at the gas station opposite. I’m a big tractor fan lately. Alas, this one was no John Deere 9000 series.

We identified a steakhouse at which to eat. It was 0.3 miles away, so we decided to walk it. 0.2 miles in, that didn’t seem like such a great idea. At 7pm, the sun was still beating down, and as we were heading West on an East-West road, there was little shade and the sun was shining straight at our faces. I began to entertain doubts that perhaps the restaurant was in the opposite direction. Fortunately I was wrong.

At the Blarney Stone restaurant, they took some time to seat us; a girl brought us some water and promised to be back in a second. She did not make good of her promise. We waited, and waited, then began to grumble a bit and consider how this would affect the tip. Eventually a different waitress came, and made everything alright, by apologising profusely for the delay, being slightly dismissive of her colleague’s abilities, and emphasising that she would be glad to serve us; and serve us she did.

Debbie had prime rib — this is a steak sliced off a slow-cooked joint. It’s very flavourful and tender, but it lacks the bloody interior and browned exterior I enjoyed in my sirloin. The restaurant adjoins a bar, with which it shares restrooms. On a visit there, I was invited to join a game of Texas Hold ‘Em. I decided that betting real money with Nebraskan old-timers probably wasn’t the ideal way to learn poker — plus leaving Debbie at the dinner table wouldn’t have been all that polite.

Back in the room, it’s Saturday night and there is absolutely nothing worth watching on TV. This crazy country. They keep running trailers of the treasures that await the American viewer in "fall", but for now it’s slim pickin’s. We’re making do with a house renovation programme…

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