Perhaps it was because the Embassy was such a dive, we mulled over just how much we'd enjoyed our stay at the Crest Motel in Williamsburg, IA the night before. I suggested, if our route was in its path and the timing was right, that we return to the Crest Motel the next night.
So, it was with the intention of returning to a familiar place with relatively nice accommodation that we would leave House on the Rock and Wisconsin all together after stopping to fill up our 34-oz cold drink cups at a roadside convenience store and saloon. We'd been in the state for just over 24 hours.
|Hans and the (not-so-crazy) cow|
|Mississippi River Boat Races|
We didn't stop in Dubuque but, just based on what I saw of the town, I think it's somewhere I'd like to poke my nose around in for a few hours sometime...particularly around the river. There was a quaintness about it - likely designed with tourists like me in mind - that fit in with my mood just so.
US 151 would carry us south at a diagonal as the sun set over Iowa farm country...
|Clearly I was becoming more comfortable taking pictures in a moving Intrepid|
It was just about 8 p.m. when we'd pull up at the office this time. The motel manager, I believe his name was
We were particularly pleased to discover "our" room was available again so it was truly familiar territory that greeted us when we unloaded and then set out to discover what culinary delights rural Iowa might have in store.
We'd find ourselves pulling up in front of what was clearly the town's tavern - the Sundown Bar & Grill. Not much else seemed open that time of night and we were satisfied that we'd be able to get some somewhat palatable pub food and, more importantly, a cocktail.
We were only slightly startled by the sign telling us to leave our firearms outside the door. That did not deter us. It seemed rather obvious that we were safe enough if all the firearms were outside and we were inside.
Besides, we were starving. The White Castle we'd had much earlier in the day had left us long before (thanks be to Jeebus) and we were both hungry enough not to care what we ate. I don't even remember what I ate. I remember Acr0nym tried to order their broasted chicken specialty only to be told the broaster was in dis-repair and there was no chicken to be had.
But hey! My gin and tonic was good. My food, whatever it was (uh...chicken fingers maybe?) was tolerable enough not to be memorable so that was something. We were clearly outsiders - not from town - by the looks we were given but, by then, we were just plumb tuckered out and not interested in the interest shown us.
The meal was, for all intents and purposes, barely worth mentioning...except for the fact that it was exactly what Small Town, America should and did offer us for a "late" night meal and drink. Isn't that what we (OK, I) was looking for?
The rest of the evening would be spent in our pajamas, drinking wine out of the wine kidney and poured into plastic cups, surfing the web, Acr0 editing photos, me blogging for the first time since the trip began, and just generally luxuriating over a comparatively early, lovely evening...
In preparation for what would, perhaps, become my most favorite day of all.