Yesterday’s *tailwind turned round and buffeted us like Berkshire Hathaway properties, making our century feel like it began during the Taft administration.
We incised our way through the wind like it was fresh elote, leaving husks of exploded inner tubes in our wake, and despite some early hurdles, we made industrious strides worthy of those who carved out the Panama Canal. The last 22 miles were made easy by Noah’s genius push to buy a 3 pound bag of kettle corn with group funds– only the second of that size ever purchased from the establishment.
Now we lay cradled between the interlaced fingers of ND and MN, on Roger Maris Drive at Lindenwood Campground. We’re ready to take a 72oz big gulp of Minnesota tomorrow, get away from the I-94 Doldrums and hop down Lake Wobegon Trail in search of rhubarb pies. But tonight was pizza pie and Uno games. We’re proud of our progress.