This afternoon we are visiting Miles-country in Iowa. It is a 6-hour drive, which I do not look forward to as my tailbone gets really sore from sitting for long periods of time. I am still feeling bruised and very uncomfortable from our excursion to Land of the Happy Hand Symbols.

And yet, six hours in a car is fluff. After taking a twenty-plus road trip a time or two (or three or four...), this is understandable. Mom has been aflutter with jitters about my tailbone, about on-the-road nourishment, and the like.

I remember going Up North every summer as a child...a 3-4 hour drive during which Mom used to dope us up until she was certain that we wouldn't be children prone to carsickness. Charlie and I loathed that ride every year. We would be packed to our eyeballs in coloring books, crayons, crossword puzzles, and boom boxes (with earphones). My tailbone didn't really bother me then, but I had a fluffier posterior in those days too.

I took a trip with my cousin's family in '97. We went to Orlando, FL by minivan, and I found the 8-10 hour days on the road heavenly. I was then a teenager with my head in the clouds...and possibly even discovering my philosophical side. This requires loads of thinking time.

The first trip to North Carolina took 2 days. The next, we drove straight through during one of the worst snow storms ever. The next was an emergency run back to Wisconsin for my grandfather's funeral...we broke records on that one.

Now, six hours is nothing, tailbone notwithstanding. I'm still prone to reflection...and I've supplemented my journey-taking with the skill befitting a roadside babbler. Miles is feeling pretty darned blessed right about now. See you tonight, fair Iowans!