We headed west again on June 4, skipping across states where we have been before: Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois. We spent our first night at an Interstate rest area, lodged between two tractor-trailer trucks that kept their engines idling all night. The next night we found a peaceful park on the outskirts of Madison, Wisconsin where we could walk around this quiet lake.
We hit Minneapolis on Monday, and spent the next 36 hours hanging out with Margo and John in their new downtown loft.
The loft also faces the Mississippi River, where the Flour Kings once ruled the economy.
The wheat fields of North Dakota are still churning out massive amounts of the grain, along with corn and soybeans. Industrial farms are the norm in the mid-West, while small farmers try to hold on.
We sped west and north to Montana, along the path of migratory birds.
The thermometer hit 101 degrees.
For two more days and nights, we drove and drove through massive expanses of rolling plains, then finally entered Canada. The border agent let us enter after we assured her that unlike most Americans, we carried no guns.
Listen as Johnny Cash & Lynn Anderson tear it up.
Where we are today.