The long and winding road

We are on the third leg of our Indiana travels.  We left Evansville on Friday with Tom again in the driver's seat armed with directions to South Bend given to him by my friend's daughter who did not like the way I would have driven there.  My way comes from my SIS who drives the route twice a year at least. As she said to me, "If there was a faster and better way your brother would drive it." But for some reason Tom has not let me be in charge of driving not even when we entered the city I grew up in. It is true that I have been known to turn the wrong way in some many instances and get lost a few times, but in Evansville?

We left my friend's house at 12:00 South Bend time. My SIS expected us to arrive in time for dinner at six. Uh huh. I tried again to convince my husband to go the way I knew; 41 to 70 to 465 to 31 right into the city. He argued that too many people, Shad and Darrell, had told him about construction and other problems on the Interstate.  He argued that Kristen, my daughter's friend, knew the best way because she had traveled it with her boyfriend who was from the South Bend area.   He argued enough that I just gave in. Let him go his way. I knew we would get there eventually.

We got on Interstate 64 right outside my friend's neighborhood and I did all of the things old people do upon returning home. I pointed out all of the places along the interstate and remarked on how those places had never existed back in my day. The other three ignored me, two lost in electronics, the driver lost in thought. I eventually gave up as we left my hometown and settled in for the drive.  There was very little traffic and the husband remarked on that, comfortable in his confidence of his route. I ignored him. Madison announced she needed a bathroom about an hour in and Tom agreed as he needed gas. We were not in the vicinity of either as we were traveling around the fringe of small Indiana towns, but eventually Tom took an exit that only required a half a mile of driving to find what we needed.

 

We gassed up and visited the ladies room, one of those places that required a key from the lady behind the counter and a hike around the station to the restroom on the side of the building. Madison was leery, which set me off on another trip down memory lane on my days of traveling back in the day.   She ignored me and shut the door.  While I waited I took a phone call from Kristen who wanted me to know that she had messed up on the directions and that we were to take 58 and not 57. I cheerfully told her no worries, assured her we were good, and took my turn in the restroom. 

Across the street was a small drive-in restaurant named Mason's.  Tom thought we should investigate it and he drove over. It was the type of place where you stayed in your car while the waitress takesk your order and delivers your food through the window; small town Indiana. The waitresses were wearing Masons shirts, but they didn't sell them so we got our order and headed back to the interstate. 

 

By the time we got on to 58 I was shaking my head as I followed our route on Google maps.  South Bend is north of Evansville, but we were heading east into the Hoosier National Forest, a route I took last year when we were visiting the cave in Bedford, IN. It was a beautiful, sunny day with temperatures in the low 70s as we wound our way along the two lane road through farm country. It was the middle of nowhere. Occassionaly we passed through towns; the type of Indiana towns that are on the map because they have a post office...and nothing else.

 

A bathroom break was needed again and Tom kept assuring the girls he would stop at the next town, but he would blink and we had already passed the next town. I was stifling my laughter, but not doing such a good job with the irritation as we went up one hill, down another, around one curve, and around another. I do fairly well with car sickness as long as I'm in the passenger seat and not reading, but the route was starting to get to me and I too needed a break.

 

The next town we passed was Freetown. I had never heard of it. Tom rounded a curve and there was
the town. We knew it was the town because there was a small green sign that said, "Freetown", and there were a few houses and on one corner a store called Granny's Corner. We were past it before we realized it was the town, and Tom trying to save face, stopped and turned around, assuring us that Granny would have a restroom as she sold ice cream too. That he got from the sign outside on the front porch where the ice cream was stored in two red and blue coolers sitting on the porch. Madison, Darcy and I got out. 

Photo from Granny's facebook page

The store was one room and full of crochet items from dresses and hats to homemade jelly and jewelry. Two women about my age were surprised to see us and they hopped up from a couch in the back to welcome us. I asked about a restroom, and when they heard about the crazy way we were traveling to Indianapolis, they took pity on us and offered up their personal bathroom as long as we "ignored the mess in the office".  We were more then happy to do that we were so grateful. Gotta love midwestern hospitality. Madison thanked them profusely while Darcy shopped. Both ladies were grandmothers and both of them did the crocheting that was sold in the store. To thank them for saving our lives we left the store with a few items. 

The ladies couldn't have been nicer telling us stories and showing us around the shop.  I really would have liked to have had more time to shop as the prices were fantastic, but Tom came inside worried we were buying up the place. We left without ice cream and got back on the winding road, weaving our way through farming towns and the national forest.

Eventually, an hour later from where we would have been had we gone my SIS's way, we came to the exit for the road to Indianapolis.  I texted my SIS who LOL'ed several texts back telling us they would wait dinner for us, but that they were going to have some snacks.  I felt better now that we were on a familiar road and didn't have to do much pleading to the husband to take 31 into South Bend.  He was willing at this point to listen to my SIS.  Then we got stuck in traffic.  Of course we got stuck in traffic.  It was Friday evening in Indianapolis.  People wanted to get home.

Lucky for us the traffic thinned out, we got on to 31 and I felt more relaxed.  Then it started to rain, not a gentle rain, but a torrential downpour.  I was trying not to laugh at this point in the travels and even hubby was starting to smile.  We rolled into our destination, a restaurant where my SIS decided we would eat, an hour and some minutes late.

 

 

It rained the entire time we were in the brew house, but no one cared as we all ate something different.  The photo above is one of the specialties; a peanut butter hamburger with loaded hash browns.  My husband devoured the entire burger and most of the browns.  As we left, the kids now in my SIS's car, my husband turned on our car and something dinged.  It was a familiar dinging noise to me, the girl who has driven her husband's car for the past four months with the same dinging noise.  We both looked on the dash and sure enough a digital message blinked, "Left rear tire is low, please check."  I laughed.