Crossing the Big Muddy

Hello from Independence, MO, home town of Harry Truman (to err is Truman) and just outside the BBQ capital of the world, Kansas City. 

We got a decently early start to the day, on the road by 9:30 (for Maddie, it's like she had to wake up in the middle of the night). Mad and Yvette breakfasted at the hotel; sadly, by the time Mad got there, there were no more forks and she ate biscuits and gravy with a knife, just like in medieval times. After a little bit of time on the road, Buck required a fill-up, so we stopped at a gas a station, where I suggested that Yvette in Stella take the lead. Breakfast having proved insufficient, she was jonesing for Starbucks, so she led the way. 

This served as a WTF moment. The woman who never drives more than 65 in her sensible and safe SUV got behind the wheel of my big dirty girl and took off like she was Barney Oldfield (look it up if you don't know who that is--or ask my dad or Midge). The term "bat out of hell" has never been more relevant. 

The consequence of Yvette's time in the lead was, sadly, no sign of a Starbucks but good time made on the road. We crossed the Missouri River to leave Nebraska and actually ended up in Iowa for a few miles before winding our way through the snarly traffic, road construction, and chaos of Kansas City. Coming into Independence, it took every bit of self-restraint I have not to follow the signs to the American Negro League Hall of Fame and the Harry Truman Presidential Library. I comfort myself with the idea that when I go back home in about five years, I'm going to stop at all the cool places I'm missing now. 

Our hotel tonight is a short walk from a place called Rib Crib, so we paid homage to the local cuisine with some delicious BBQ and, more important, some fried okra. God bless Mary Ann Marler for turning me on to that most delicious of vegetable dishes when I was a kid. In honor of our making good time today (which is entirely due to Yvette's inner Barney Oldfield and Maddie's kleine Magellan navigational skills), Mad enjoyed a Jim & Coke while I had a cold frosty mug of beer. Yvette, being a professional race car driver, abstained from the adult beverages as she is "focused on the road."

Now we're tucked into bed, and the room is quiet except for Maddie in the shower and Yvette and I clicking the keys of Apple products. There are some pretty festive people on this floor, one of whom called Yvette and I "wholesome girls."  Hmmmm...