Think about it, you'l get there in the end.
We got lost on the confusing intersections and drove through the hood once again to get our bearings. Although we are in the Mid-West, it feels like we were back in the Deep South. People sit, occasionally waving at us from their wooden porches as we pass and Creole-sounding street names have reappeared. They say this is where the South begins, and it really rings true.
We drove miles out of the way to get petrol and stopped at a famer's market for bread, cheese and oranges. That's all we need; food, petrol, map, each other and the sun.
Some miles along the road we stopped at antique shops in the hometown of the first battle of the Civil War, Carthage.
In the west of that town lies the Route 66 Drive-in theatre, which was showing The Fast and The Furious later that Friday night, but was closed when we pulled up; slow but still a little miffed.
We stopped in Carterville, Missouri, home of the Route 66 Superman Museum.
But it was closed.
In the town of Webb City, north of Joplin, we happened across a small-town fair, complete with funfair rides, candy floss and a real Indian selling dreamcatchers and T-Shirts emblazoned with Native Americans and reading “Homeland Security… Protecting America since 1492”
On a stage in the town square a local barbershop quartet crooned to a crowd of twenty five, all seated in school chairs. They were pretty good. It was the kind of town funfair that pregnant teenagers wander round on that weekend every year and every year it is rained off.
Will they never learn?
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