Our pre-trip preparations include hardly anything at all, save for not signing up for some kind of road service, which seems defeatist. At the end of the first day we've crossed the Mississippi River into southern Missouri. It doesn't take much to get us Rustbelt types excited, carwise, and in these parts having an old pickup in your yard seems to be, if not social custom, actually decreed by law. Almost every property has at least one silent veteran of the golden days of American motoring. Highway 51 is smooth and curvaceous, and cruising this road on a perfect day and looking at all the old cars and trucks is what you must get to do in Car Guy Heaven. And it's not just vintage Detroit iron that has cheated the crusher. Traffic is very light, and we are seeing, being actually driven on the road, many Ford Aspires, all out of proportion to what their numbers should be. Up north, these things had the lifespan of a Mayfly. It must rain Rustoleum down here. And at the end of this road we come across a Corvair for sale. The plates appropriately say Disabled. That had better not be an omen.
Hey, this one's better than ours.Tom had wanted to see the Ozarks, so we drive through northern Arkansas. Again we are on a pleasant two lane, US62, when we start to notice a funny smell. Funny as in breathing through a stranger's socks might improve it. At a stoplight we see a dumptruck ahead with a load of......oh no, can that be a ton of chicken poop being driven right down Main Street? What else has white feathers and smells like that? I don't really want to know where the truck is going or the purpose of the load, I'm more fascinated by what happens on the truck driver's last day at work. Think about what you would do with that truckload after the boss says he won't need you tomorrow.
