Pack the car with new cds (choose to play them in descending order of the likeliness to give you a headache late at night: Icona Pop, Shakira (her new stuff), Fall Out Boys, John Mayer Live in L.A., a 2 disc-set.)
Head north for a bit first, even though the final destination is south and west, this is a head scratcher, but the speed limit is higher on I 90, and bluffs and bridges are limiting access along the Mississippi River so it’s apparently the fastest way.
Drive west, through Rochester (confusing place, really, centered around sickness) to
Albert Lea (leah leah leah) (you’re a little over halfway and therefore silly singing the name the wrong way)
Turn south, onto 35 you’ll know you’re headed the right direction, because this is literally the straightest road you’ve ever seen, and you could probably keep your car going steadily onward (and southward) even half asleep.
I have a theory that Iowa (the whole state) was dreamt of by a city planner; every highway set up on a grid with regularity: creating blocks, and intersections, corralling cows and corn to rectangular corridors.
You’ll also see lots of wind farms
this makes sense, Iowa is very flat and you can feel the wind for miles.
When you get to the spot
where the highways slip and slide over and under bridges; curvedly, rapidly and while facing down a gold domed building
you’ve reached the spot.
(Erin said, “Let’s try a recipe poem, mixed with thoughts from places since we’re both going on road trips today.)