Our goal today is to go far. Finding a balance between taking small roads to avoid large cities and their inherent congestion and making quick time seems mostly impossible. We get out of French Lick and head over to Montgomery, Indiana, before stopping for breakfast at a little Amish-influenced place. By setting ourselves in motion, it feels like progress is being made right away. Before we know it we are crossing into Illinois and are almost halfway across the Midwest.

U.S. Route 50 takes us straight through farmland, allowing us to travel nearly at the speed of the freeway but without the semi-trucks and endless franchises that define America’s main arterial roads. I prefer to lose 30 miles per hour for the calm tranquility of passing fields of corn that are so close I can reach out and touch them or maybe just stop and photograph a field of it as a reminder that I’ve been here.

There’s a lot of corn grown in this state, but by the time we reached Odin, Illinois, where we picked up some fresh tomatoes being sold next to the road, it was time to step south in order to give a wide berth to St. Louis and avoid even a hint of the suburbs. Great, now we have tomatoes, but not a grain of salt. We need a store or a fast-food restaurant.

In Pinckneyville, Illinois, we spot a McDonald’s and score a few salt packets so we can start enjoying the tomatoes. A place across the street offering oil changes allows us to have some basic maintenance done on Mom’s van, which has already been driven more than 4,500 miles on this trip. The guy’s hopefully removed some of the ticks out of the car when they vacuumed it. We don’t know for certain that there were any ticks in the car, but Mom was worried after all my stops to take photos.

About to leave Modoc, Illinois, across the Mississippi River by a small ferry for $8, heading into Saint Genevieve, Missouri.

At 100 degrees on the river with what feels like an equal amount of humidity, we might as well be in the river. Except, the last place I want to be right now while riding a ferry across the mighty Mississippi River is on a capsizing boat taking us to nice dry land on the other side in a different state.

Collecting more ticks, so my neurotic mother is more occupied with pestilence instead of food.

The torment that must exist in my mom as she vacillates between imagined variants of the plague and the overwhelming desire for calories to regulate her serotonin would push lesser people into therapy. Again, we are at the point where it’s too hot to do anything but seeing the Charleville Vineyard here in Ste. Genevieve, she’s all of a sudden energized into buying more wine. If you’ve been keeping track, you wouldn’t be wrong in assuming we have quite a few cases of wine stowed here in the van.

While you’d never guess it from the picture I captured at a moment with no one else in sight, the Old Brick House was packed, so we went over to the Anvil Restaurant, which was the second recommendation. The Anvil has been open since 1855 and has the best onion rings mom and I have ever had. I had a chicken fried steak that was the daily special, while mom opted for a burger.

Looking at the path our road trip took, I’m left wondering years later what exactly was the motivation for the drive south only to turn north again, but that’s what we are doing today instead of holding a steady westerly direction. Here we are on one of those northern legs about to cross the Missouri River.

Of course, there’s more corn out here; it’s the Midwest, right?

Crossing the Missouri River, we arrive in the unincorporated area known as Dutzow. It’s the Blumenhof Vineyard & Winery that drags us out of the car. Mom purchases even more wine. Further west on the river is the city of Hermann, Missouri. Why are we here? Lunch, shoes, ice cream? Nope, more wine. Back in Dutzow, the proprietor told Mom of the Hermannhof Winery. Mom goes berserk and is about to leave with two full cases. One half a case is for Caroline, but after sampling their sparkling grape juice, we left with a case of it too.

Back across the Missouri River on a road that will keep us the closest to the river until we have to turn south again.

Our turn south was happening in Jefferson City, Missouri, which also serves as the location to have dinner. We’re not done driving yet, as we are determined to cover more ground today before exhaustion sets in.

Highway 54 takes us past the over-commercialized Lake of the Ozarks area, but not before we stop for a Custard at Andy’s in Osage Beach. We make it as far as Weaubleau, Missouri before I’m just too tired to continue on. The Weaubleau Motel offers small cabins for only $40, including tax and cash only. The pillows are sofa pillows, the shower has a sizable colony of spiders in residence, and the place is at least 20 degrees hotter than outside. The last temperature we saw 45 minutes before checking in was 91 degrees; this room is well over 105. The air conditioner makes a valiant attempt to cool things, but after 30 minutes, it’s still ridiculously hot. Only $40, hmmm, maybe not the best bargain, but then again, I was about to pass out on the road.