The day starts with an oil change, in the outskirit of Denver. In the waiting room they show the US open of golf. They were also on in a diner two days ago. Golf must be more popular than one imagine. A short drive north to Boulder where just under the mountains, where I have a coffee with T a colleague met at the Huntington. Downtown Boulder is a lovely are with coffee houses and restaurants. Leaving Boulder around 1 pm I drive north for few miles and then eastbound to reach the 25 north and then the 34 east to reach the I 76 that will lead me to the I 80 in direction of Chicago. As soon as I leave the mountains behind me a new landscape sets in. It is a well known one, the flatlands of the Midwest. Caws hanging on the field alternate to cornfields or to some other form of cultivation. There is nothing to see. It is as vast as the desert, but for reason that are hard to explain, not as exciting and of course lack any sublimity. When I stop at the first gas station I am struck by the heat. Humidity must be very high, close to 90 or 100 %. I remember the same sensation getting off the airplane in Cuba. A pool of liquid is dropping from under the car. Damn, they have done something wrong at the oilchange!!! Under the hood, everything looks fine. I am worried. What could it be? I touch and smell it, definitely water, with a car scent. As I am still checking I notice that other cars produce their pools too, the air conditioning, that’s what it is. Relieved I resume my journey.
Nebraska’s green is a little more intense, but basically the same, the only thing to do is to follow the activities of the caws as the afternoon pass, they eat they ruminate, they doze, they eat. Eventually evening sets in and I am relived of this never changing landscape. As I enter the urban area of Lincoln on the 80 something tipical happens: I am passing a lorry, speeding just over the 75 miles per hour limit. Since we are entering a urban area, the speed limit decreases to 65, as I am completing the overtaking, a patrol car is standing there and they come and stop me. As I explain the tricky situation I was, I am issued a warning and I continue. However I am driving more carefully. I stop in a place called just passed Omaha, Underwood, in Iowa.
Nebraska’s green is a little more intense, but basically the same, the only thing to do is to follow the activities of the caws as the afternoon pass, they eat they ruminate, they doze, they eat. Eventually evening sets in and I am relived of this never changing landscape. As I enter the urban area of Lincoln on the 80 something tipical happens: I am passing a lorry, speeding just over the 75 miles per hour limit. Since we are entering a urban area, the speed limit decreases to 65, as I am completing the overtaking, a patrol car is standing there and they come and stop me. As I explain the tricky situation I was, I am issued a warning and I continue. However I am driving more carefully. I stop in a place called just passed Omaha, Underwood, in Iowa.
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