Kickin' tires, lightin' fires, and rockin' Empires...none of that is true, but it rhymed and sounded cool...

At the Oasis, outside of Chicago and right at the cusp on farm country, the middle-aged woman behind the counter smiled as I walked up- washer fluid and granola bars in my hands.

"Back again?" She asked.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You were just here a few days ago," she said. "Weren't you?"
"I don't think so."
"It's been a long couple of days- but not that long."
The woman laughed. "Well then it was someone who looked just like you then."
"Well all right."
"Looked just like you," she said, again.
"Lucky dude."
She laughed and I left the Oasis, almost went East instead of West and then spent the rest of the day driving through Iowa.

There were times when the sun was out, the sun was bright and combined with the white snow covering everywhere except the road, made the morning illuminated like the tacky house on the block. I had some difficulties with washer fluid, and the washer fluid jets on the hood, but nothing to write home about.

Yesterday, after making it to Ohio on Monday, I drove through rain, sleet, snow and wind. I saw absolutely nothing. I'm sure there wasn't much to see, but if there was anything- I missed it. Around noon, I decided I was going to head to Chicago. I had never been to Chicago and I was so close to Chicago and with the weather and all, why not go to Chicago? So I did. I saw the river they dye green on St. Patrick's Day, the two buildings that survived the Chicago fire, and Soldiers' Field. No joke, I got damn near giddy driving across the bridge and across the South Side- Chicago. Weirder things have happened, but not recently, so this had me pretty fired up. Chicago! Snowin' like a son of a bitch. Let's hit the town, Stone- she had a hot lead on cheap steak, a way about town, and hell yeah, that bartender made a fantastic gin and tonic.

So there was killer steak for dinner, garlic mashed potatoes and shrimp Alexander, and US3, and then this morning, scrapin' ice and snow off the truck's windows. It's never really that fun to be short and you know, it's especially not fun when your current whip is a big truck, high off the ground and goddamnit, it makes scrapin' look like a goddamn mass excursion of everything a dude driving to Utah on a cold Wednesday morning in Chicago has to offer. And that was even before he had listened to Guns 'N Roses or the Roots or even some goddamn Rustic shittin' Overtones.

But there really isn't much a person can do in that situation except try to scrap the shit off the truck, snap a photo of a killer Obama mural, and only get lost once while rollin' out of Chicago.

If there was anymore to life, it'd be way too goddamn easy.

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