I 70 laid down its dry pavement east across the Nebraska plains. We ate mile after mile. As well as eating snacks that Charlotte had packed. We stopped at truck stops, taking a while to figure out just how you pay for diesel fuel at gigantic pumps and how you really need a long broom handle to wash the windows. I also learned that when you want to check to see if the diesel is going into the tank, you do not just pull the handle out and look at it while it continues to pour out the fuel.Fog replaced sun as we crossed into Missouri. In the late, damp afternoon, we pulled into the eastern fringes of St. Louis. And, following up on a morning call to Melissa, we met up with her and Jose for supper. Jose liked the truck (what's not to like) and wanted to join the road trip. But we told him he'd have to ride in the back (where he could sleep on the sofa). He declined our offer but thought it would be fun to drive the truck himself.
After supper, we navigated (more or less) successfully through the complex of interstates that slice through St. Louis, crossed the fog-strewn Mississippi, and headed southeast toward the next major city, Atlanta.
