No more rabbit-hole pop-philosophizing – let’s get down to the (wet) business of riding in the not-exactly-raining rain!

I have a cursory late-20th-century public-school skim-over knowledge of the Lewis & Clark expedition. Pretty much Schoolhouse Rock’s “Elbow Room.”

It took 23 days to have that moment in the dirt. 23 days to have that moment that will NEVER be funny in retrospect. NEVER!

I follow the “Detour” signs…right onto Interstate 80!

I plug johnnygun’s blessed Across-Iowa route into the app. Bye bye, Muscatine! Hello, Iowa City!

I can’t help but open this can of worms: I am supported by my privilege as white and male. Well, I’m not opening the can. It’s already open and I’ve been eating right out of it with gusto.

The water tower depicts an American flag, and a boy and girl holding hands. I ride around to the other side to see if there is same-sex couple representation on there. …Kidding!

I need a rest and a real meal, and the Blueberry Pancake House is right here in Monroeville, just a block away from the “Make Monroeville Great Again” sign!

I was grateful for cooler temps, though raindrops began to patter my helmet as I set out toward downtown Cleveland and the anticipated flatness of the Lake Erie shoreline.

“I want apple butter for sure. I’m saying yes. And taking you at face value. And everybody else from now on.”