The final drive to the Indianapolis airport took just two hours, but it gave me time to reflect on everything I'd seen. It was only a couple of months until the 2024 election. Everywhere I went I saw red signs and blue signs. The red signs read “TRUMP 2024” and the blue signs said “TRUMP and VANCE.” I don’t recall spotting a single Biden or Harris sign. Trump signage wasn’t limited to yard signs. There were massive banners and clusters of flags. Barns were painted with “Trump” in dripping red letters. “Let’s go Brandon” was another popular message. There were three older gentlemen eating the breakfast buffet at one of the generic hotels, and I overheard one say: “Oh yeah, I know one, you know Johnny’s wife? Yep, she’s a Democrat.” Despite the seeming uniformity, there are pockets of blue, of progressives, of liberal-leaning cities. I just didn’t drive through any of them. I probably talked to over 100 people and asked them what they liked best about “their Concord.” The most common answers were “family” or “community.” I never had a negative interaction on this trip. I silently cursed every “Dollar General” store I saw. According to Wikipedia, there are 18,744 Dollar General and 15,115 Dollar Tree stores. These stores, like a mushroom blooming out of the trunk of a tree, signify the slow decay of the area. The mom-and-pop groceries cannot compete. The downtown storefronts are often empty, except for a pawn shop where there used to be a general store or an ATM in front of a boarded-up bank. Gun shops continue to flourish on the edge of towns. Gas station convenience stores are the only competition to the “Dollar” infection. Snacking helped keep me awake, but buying Cokes and an 18-bag variety pack of Frito-Lay products was not a good investment on my first day of driving in South Dakota. I quickly polished them off, and my digestive system suffered the rest of the trip. I gained eight pounds in eight days. I thought I’d struggle to find stories to tell, so I gave myself permission, for the first time, to take side trips. I only took three: The Prairie Village 61st Annual Steam Threshing Jamboree in South Dakota, a late-night detour to the Cambern family cemetery plot in Erie, Kansas to honor my grandmother’s aunts and uncles, and my first visit to the Gateway Arch National Park in St Louis. That last side trip will require a separate blog entitled “Stupid Things I Did During my Trip to the Midwest.” Since my front wheels were misaligned, the Chevy shook when I drove between 60-65. For comfort sake I drove over 70. For boredom’s sake, I drove over 80. When I hit 90, my windscreen was a graveyard for bugs. I felt bad, but going 90 brought me to my destination 33% faster. No tickets, but there is more material for my “Stupid Things I Did During my Trip” blog. I took a photo of the odometer as I pulled into the rental car return; I had driven 2,792 miles, nearly the distance from Washington DC to San Francisco. After a delayed flight and a painfully slow Uber, I arrived home at 12:30 and kissed my sleeping wife. “Happy Birthday, Lizzy.”