Seen on 94

I've made this drive so many times. I hardly have to watch the road unraveling before me. The minivan's alignment is perfect for hands-free coasting along this barren strip of interstate. There is hardly a site to be seen along this five and half hour journey home.

The first hour towards Lake Michigan surprised me with color. Not just that the leaves are starting to change, but they are somehow changing differently. The hues along the highway seem to be bordering unhealthy. The reds are dingy and dried. There is an overbearing presence of brown tracing along trim line. Glucose and the change in photosynthesis may not be the only color changing factors here… these trees are in serious need of that hydrogen + oxygen combination. Dry, dry, dry.

I don’t know why I always stop in Black River Falls. It’s perpetually my pit-stop of choice. After fueling up my tank, I head through the glass doors of the BP. There is no need for a sweep of the eyes to find the bathroom, I know just where I am going. A woman cuts into my bee-line. A larger woman with a graying mullet. The kind of woman you don’t want to enter a bathroom after. I secretly hope she’s not going my way. When her hand hits the lady’s room door, I think “Damn, this is one fart I don’t need to hear.” Those were four held-breath minutes I really didn’t need in my life.


Lots of construction along the Interstate. A good fifty miles worth of orange barrels. A few years ago someone pointed this bit of info out to me and now I look up at every crane. Off-duty construction sites use cranes as their U-Locks. Any removable equipment gets hoisted in the air to prevent its theft. You’ll often see generators and pneumatic tanks hovering above ground. Bored on the highway, going the reduced 55mph, there’s no place better to be looking than up.


I laugh everytime at the westbound sign for Bosshard Bogs. What am I? Twelve? Bosshard just has a chuckle quality. I think Boss-hard needs to become common day anatomical slang. I know I am always looking for new descriptors for erections. Twelve years old, seriously!

Lastly, I refused to make my return trip be a driving day. The sky opened up as I passed three signs. Food. Fuel. State Park. I decide I need all three. I accomplished all three in the order stated. Brought my sandwich up a bluff and took a minute to forget about the confines of my vehicle on a beautiful day.

*Brought to you by a Swear-Free America*