The Pinto Chronicles - Part Three

Leaving Colorado was something of a letdown; we knew that this was the last truly "Western" state that we would visit. Next stop -- Nebraska. But the adventure was not yet over. We stopped in Lincoln at the home of a former pastor of Paul and Peter's church and were treated to ice cold glasses of Schmidt Beer, except for Peter, of course, who received something softer. We played some pool, visited the local college, then headed out the next morning for the final leg of the trip.

Coming back through Missouri, we started to notice Southern accents once again. The pace had slowed, and the humidity had increased noticeably. At dinnertime, we pulled the Pinto into Grandma Grossheider's house. Paul and Peter's grandmother owned a farm outside Cape Girardeau, Missouri, where she maintained two small fishing ponds. For $1.50, you could sit by a placid little pond and pull out the fish. Grandma fed us well -- in her words, she fed us "a little something." After gorging ourselves on everything from ears of fresh corn to chicken, we bade farewell and started toward Memphis.

Driving down the last leg of I-55 from Cape Girardeau to Memphis, we reflected on all the adventures which the last three and a half weeks had provided. We would never really feel the same as before. Interstates, back roads, and places long forgotten by the mainstream had given us a road legacy to remember.

As we drove back across the Mississippi River bridge into Memphis, with the stars piercing the night sky and the lights of the city reflecting off the river, I thought about how vast and varied this country really was, not only physically, but culturally, spiritually and emotionally as well. Indeed, it was and is a superb place to be.