Our first day on the road proved a triumphant one with 749 miles in the rear-view mirror and no food poisoning from my amazing sandwiches!
We gassed up in Laramie and were warmly welcomed into Nebraska by a massive marble statue of the Virgin Mary, straddling the state line...
I took the last leg at the wheel and we sailed into pit stop number one: Kearney, NE.
After a quick freshening-up at our Fairfield Inn, we headed over to the Whiskey Creek Wood Fire Grill, which was jam-packed with hominids palming steak knives and discarding peanut shells on the floor...my people!
Dinner was perfectly adequate and as we paid the bill, our sweet waitress was convinced we were in town for the REO Speedwagon and Night Ranger concert, thus the Kearney crowds.
Her words had barely landed before Steven's entire body language changed.
He hid it well, but I don’t think he has ever been more insulted in his entire life.
19-year-old Dakota looked Steven J. Jordan head to toe and confidently concluded: REO Speedwagon Super Fan.
To make things worse (even better), he then missed the parking lot exit by A MILE and drove right off the curb.
The Jazz Man, takin’ it on the run!!! 1-0-0-0
Our early morning departure was met with rain and the threat of severe thunderstorms. The cloud formations were definitely Twister-ish, but that didn’t stop us and our fresh coffee confidence.
Nancy took the first shift and took us through the Silos and Smokestacks National Heritage Area. David then guided us halfway through Iowa, until we coasted into Iowa City for lunch.
Destination: Hamburg Inn No. 2.
At nearly 90 years old, The Burg is widely acclaimed as both one of the best greasy spoons in the Midwest and as a political hot spot.
Candidates seeking the presidential nomination of their party come here to meet caucus-goers and conduct a Coffee Bean Caucus, where each guest is given a coffee bean to place in a jar of his/her preferred candidate.
The Burg prides itself on welcoming everyone through its doors, regardless of party preference. Proof of their credo decorate the walls displaying headshots of Ronald Reagan and John Waters alike.
I can tell you one thing for certain; the Cuban Omelet was to die for and I’d have had a pie shake if I hadn’t already enjoyed an elegant sufficiency.
CCR’s Proud Mary fittingly played us out onto the quaint, brick laden, streets of the college town as Steven dubbed me the “Road Chef” for finding diner gems in a fast-food wasteland. Aww, shucks.
We’re still full, sitting in residual Chicago traffic where the song of the cicada will creep us out all the way into Indiana.
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