Things that come to me while driving long distances: Vampire Weekend puts a strong emphasis on the "d" part of good in California English, so that the good sounds more like Gouda. When ever they sing that line about "please don't lose your faith in the good", I want to promise them that I'll never lose my faith in the Gouda. Never.
The tinted windows in the new car means that no one can see me car dancing. This makes me happy and sad at the same time.
I don't know what Misti's complaining about. The Flint Hills are beautiful. Bleak. But beautiful.
I really need to figure out a way to get a good picture of the underside of that bridge where it says Bazaar Cattle Crossing. It would require me to either hang over the edge by a rope or stand in the middle of a turnpike.
Armadilloes make for funny road kill. There's something about the way all four feet poke up into the air that make me think they probably have actual "X's" on their eyes.
Holy Crap! That's a WOLF dead on the side of the road. Then I spend the next half hour convincing myself that I know the difference between a wolf and a coyote and that what I saw was indeed a wolf.
Wait. Was that a sloth on the side of the road? Why is there so much carnage on this highway?!?! It's like open deer season, but the only hunting weapon allowed is your car.
Maybe I need to plan a cross country road trip. I've never seen Mount Rushmore. I wonder if the dog could handle a trip like that.
Never stop at that one exit in Emporia. Ever again.
98 miles to KCMO! Woot! A few minutes later, 96 miles to KCMO. Wait, I've only gone two miles? Why would you do that to someone? Can't you wait to tell me how many miles when I've gone like 20 or something? 94 miles to go. Dear God, STOP telling me how many miles I have left!!! It's killing me.
Maybe I need to rethink the road trip idea.