It was going to be another long, long day. As usual, the procedure was to pack up, load the dog, feed the car, then feed us. Feeding the car in this case meant stopping at the local Sinclair station. I do wish we had these in our area. I like the nice friendly brontosauruses. However they’re usually not quite as mobile as this one was.
Feeding us in this case meant a quick drive through where we spotted this jewel pulled behind a trike.
Pretty extreme. This guy proclaims that divorce and remarriage is adultery, yet his Facebook page proclaims support for the twice-divorced Trump.
Cognitive dissonance, indeed. Most of the rest of this guys FB page is a diatribe against his former wife. At least now we know the origin of some of his opinions. Oh well, time to head on down the road.
The clouds had an unusual ripple and it looked like we might get some precipitation.
When we got to Omaha we took a ten-mile detour because parts of the interstate were damaged from earlier flooding. Fitting for Nebraska, we passed miles and miles of cornfields.
When we rejoined the interstate we could see why we needed to detour. Even on the sections that were open lanes were closed due to damage. Other roads and the exit ramps leading to them were closed, and we could see flooded fields along our route.
We crossed the Missouri River into its namesake state and turned southward. Along the way there was more evidence of flooding. We took a break at St. Joseph for lunch, then continued toward Kansas City, then east across the state.
Along this stretch we finally hit some rain. It was just enough to annoy our windshield wipers, but not much more than that. To our east loomed storm clouds. Fortunately we never caught up to it.
Traffic caught us as we reached St. Louis. It was late enough that we had missed most of the rush hour, but it was still stop and go through town. We crossed the Missouri again, then the Mississippi into Illinois.
Our stop for the night was in O’Fallon, a bedroom community of St. Louis. I was wishing I had stopped for gas on the other side of the Mississippi because the price jumped 75 cents per gallon when crossed into Illinois. Oh well. We were too tired to worry about it. We found a place that would deliver dinner to our motel and collapsed for the evening.
Continued on page 6…