We’re somewhere in Minnesota. The trees are all tall and white here. A local told me that they are fans so the cows don’t overheat. You learn new things everyday.
Every state I drive through I evaluate whether or not I could ever live there. This is because I love living in different areas of the country. If I find a better state to live in why not? You get to experience new cultures, new traditions, new scenery, etc. Minnesota I immediately scratched from the list because their state motto is in French. Duh. This is a no go. The name Minnesota comes from the Native American tribe of Dakota. It means “clear blue water.” There’s clear blue water in nearly every other state so I don’t see the novelty of this. Then again, they didn’t have access to pool chemicals and I assume they also used large bodies of water as toilets so maybe blue water was actually something to be thankful for. I’m not sure. You may have noticed that history isn’t my strong point. Wisconsin was beautiful, however. Lush farmland was a joy to drive through and as a liberty loving conservative, I love what Scott Walker is doing with the state.
I regret that I hyped up the trip so much. Obviously, driving is getting monotonous and there isn’t much happening besides some half hearted games of Yahtzee (of which I won). There’s also the chance to jump out at every gas station to see if this state has any new energy drinks that weren’t available in the last state. Nothing really to report there either. On an unrelated topic, you shouldn’t drink energy drinks at every gas stop when you’re stuck in a 27 foot camper.
There was a little bit of excitement when the motor home stopped working. Most of the excitement came from me since I had an opportunity to get outside and walk rapidly around the motor home pretending to be helpful. After opening the hood Matt and I were relieved to see the engined still inside the engine bay. “Well, that’s better than some of your vehicles,” I said to Matt. He agreed it was a good start. We checked the oil. There was oil on the dipstick. That’s also a good sign. After noticing that the generator had also shut off, we assumed it was the fuel pump (the generator and the engine use the same fuel source). Fuel pumps love to give out in the middle of nowhere, it’s their favorite thing to do. They like to die and take as many people with them as they can. In that way, they sort of have a jihadist vibe to them. I crawled under the camper and hit the gas tank repeatedly, giving it a stern lecture. Sometimes if something is a little loose in there, hitting it can sort things out. While that method doesn’t work so well for stupid people it did actually work for the gas pump and we were on our way again! Matt, however, taking a lesson from our president, refused to admit the gas pump had terrorist tendencies, waved his hand in the air, and said we’ll fix the problem later. So that’s fun! I in some hopes of having more material to write about, I’m simply riding along and waiting to see what disasters come next.
Maybe I’ll loosen the lug nuts so my next blog post is more interesting. Stay tuned!