Northern Illinois looking yery familier to eastern Iowa. Three hours from Chicago. I see the Tigers are in town playing the Soxx tonight….
Hello, Mission Control, here!
The Base is rolling. He is trained and heading for home. Some people asked why a train instead of a plane, which is considerably quicker. The fact is, neither of us fly. Yes, the train takes longer – this is a 41 hour trip home – but if you’ve never traveled by train, I don’t think you can understand how integral it is to the journey. While the train wasn’t an initial part of Base’s trip, it’s a fitting end to this one. The frenetic driving and gas stops have given way to relaxing lounging and whistle stops. Base believes as do I, that train travel is one of the last great ways to see America. Nevermind the highways that get you there with congestion and accidents – trains take you through small towns and back yards and along the route some people never stop to consider, not even for a moment. People still wave at passing trains, and you know what? We wave back.
Also, he has a concussion, and the pressure and altitude we believe are legitimate concerns.
Once again, on behalf of Base, I’d like to thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers. It’s been a trying week, and not how we would have liked this adventure to end, but there will always be a next time. That’s what makes dreams so incredibly cool. Dreams never give up.
There is still magic in this idea, and it pulls at the soul like baseball and summer and frozen lemonade during a homestand.
Get out your lucky hats and your rally towels.