More of the same in Iowa
I suggested today that Iowa may be a Sioux word for "heck of a lot of silos." While the scenery is nice--everybody likes the pastoral view of rolling fields and farms--it's not significantly different from two hundred miles behind or three hundred miles ahead. Aside from the agriculture, the principal view along Route 80 is the truck commerce that makes you feel the economy can't be that bad; an awful lot of merchandise is moving along our roads. This truck was carrying a load of pipes, and it didn't seem to be very securely fastened which is why I'm driving in the other lane:
Looks like about a mile of pipe on this truck--until he hits a bump.
We passed by the Herbert Hoover Museum in West Branch, since we were there two years ago, and passed by the town with my favorite name for a town anywhere: What Cheer, Iowa. After a 170-mile morning ride in Iowa farmland, we were forewarned about construction on Route 80 into Illinois, and took a different scenic route:
Our detour began here--Patty Tripp was not happy.
Soon after we saw ahead the bridge into Illinois:
The I-280 bridge across the Mississippi into Illinois.
It's an interesting design and we thought it was a brand-new bridge, but it turns out the structure was built in 1973 and just got a new coat of paint in 2008.
Crossing the Mississippi into Illinois.
Illinois
Patty, our GPS, was pretty irritated with us by now, since we ignored a number of her suggestions, and as penance she directed us to take Illinois Route 6, a secondary road with traffic lights every half mile, for 66 miles! We refused to do that, too, and wended our way to Interstate Route 88, aka the Ronald Reagan Memorial Highway (named that by former governor Rod Blagojevich in 2004.) It's a toll road, but at least it recognized E-Z Pass. After the pleasant hilliness of Eastern Iowa, we were surprised to find Illinois flat as a thin pancake. Speaking of the 40th President, the Reagan Boyhood Home is in Dixon, about halfway to Chicago.
Eastbound I-88 near IL St. Rt. 53 near Lisle, IL
As we approached Chicago, it was evident our sweet 'ol bus needed gas, badly. For a few exits, we looked for one of those hundred-foot-high signs you see throughout the midwest, but to no avail. Finally, as if admitting we really were helpless without her, we asked Patty to find us a station. She told us to exit here:
Northwest suburbs exit, about 20 miles shy of Chicago
We wonder how the good folks of Chicago ever can find gas. We followed Patty's instructions to the nearest station--more than five miles away. The price? $3.19/gallon. It was $2.57 in Denver. Anyhow, she got us back on Route 88, two miles ahead of where we exited in the first place, and landed, at last, in the Windy City. With a few minor adjustments made necessary by road construction, we found our hotel, the Downtown Marriott Courtyard:
The Downtown Marriott Courtyard on Hubbard St., Chicago
Bellman Peter took good care of getting us unloaded and our room on the 15th floor (14th, actually--hoteliers are very superstitious so there is no 13th floor) is delightful, with city noises below us and city lights outside us:
The city lights outside us--blurry, yes, but bright.
The room is very nice and as one can see my bride settled right in with her computer, a new knitting project, and a Heineken.
Mary Frances, settled in.
After Mary F. watched Conniver (all right, the network calls it Survivor, but I like my name for it better), we went downstairs for a very nice light dinner at the MR Pub off the lobby:
Her Cosmo, My Martooni
Another nice day on the road in America. More beautiful weather that it's been our luck to enjoy throughout this trip, although we understand our luck may be running out on that score. That's OK.
Tomorrow: a day in the Windy City.
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