On that Road Again

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Let me just say that, although I grew to love the highways of central america, what with their beautiful views, potholes, insane bus drivers, roadside tamale and banana saleswomen, and the occasional military checkpoint (yes, my car is a piece of shit, thanks for reminding me AK-47 wielding 19 year old), it was damn good to be back on the most epic of highway systems, the crazy scattered grid that makes up America's great road. I ripped up highway I-94 from my hometown of Wilmette, IL and rode it up into Milwakuee, WI. If you are ever in the area and looking for porno and bongs be sure to stop into Superb Video in Kenosha just over the border. A quick jump from Milwakuee over to Madison where I-94 meets back up with its little sister I-90 and I was out on that desolate western Wisconsin stretch of cheese farmers and fireworks dealers. I guess what I missed most on those central american highways was the lack of all the little friends you pass on the US highways. With each exit full of Dennys, Best-Westerns, and combination Taco Bell-Long John Silvers, you feel comfortable, and more than anything you never feel alone. And while you are on that road, just look to the passing semi truck driver and give him a wave, he's there for you, again, you are never alone on that road. I-94 splits with I-90 for good before you cross into Minnesota. Once there it was a few happy miles, a cross over the mighty mississippi and a meeting with my youngest Uncle Kurt in front of the Minniapolis Star tribune building. I parked the new car there in his employee spot so we had to walk back into the news room to make it look kosher. He led me down to the grungy underbellie of one of America's oldest papers. After sneaking out the back we took in a game at the Hubert H. Humphrey metrodome, where it is always 69 degrees, there is no smoking, and the right field wall is made out of trash bags. Sox lose but beers and a strange run in with a Somalian man who was listening to the Koran in his headphones while he watched the game made it a memorable experience. I spent the night at my aunt and uncle's house and got up early for another day of tragic baseball. First I met some of my uncle's old paper buddies who were characters, they were betting on golf or something like that. Another tough loss for the pale hose and I was ready to get the hell of dodge. Before I headed west I met my Uncle's editor (he just finished a history of the great lakes great shipwrecks, in stores soon...) who gave me some advice on cracking into the business. Aside from this blog I did extensive writing on the trip and created what I beleive is a great novel, part adventure, part coming of age, part reflective and part mystical. I am going to try to get it published so if anyone has a hookup for me or can lend me some supportive words I would appreciate it. I actually first went south from the twin cities on I-35, which led me back to I-90 which i drove for the rest of the night until I stopped in Mitchell South Dakota and a lovely Motel 6. The next way was a massive road day which led me through endless south Dakota, down into Nebraska on US-83, onto I-80 west, I-76 west, through the lovely city of Denver surrounded by her purple mountains' majesty and down I-25 south to the town of Walsenburg where I spent the night. Three states, two timezones, 12 hours of driving time, feels like I am back in that american roadtripper groove of days gone past. Today I woke up at a Knight's Inn that I barely remember staying at and drove through beautiful southern colorado to my family ranch outside of Durango, where if you have been reading from the beginning we played in the snow 4 long months ago...
more to come and I hope you have all made the jump to the North American portion of the blog....
-Browntown

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Photos

From that road...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the Ranch...
the property owners...