A Minnesota Transplant living in northern Illinois spends a lot of time traversing Wisconsin — the bridge state.
The fastest way to get from Chicagoland to the Twin Cities is by using Interstates 90 and 94 across the green, rolling hills of the land of the Packers.
Like the milk the state is known for, that path is a homogenized brew of Culver’s franchises, Menard’s big-box stores and Shell gas stations.
The path takes 5.5 to 7.5 hours, depending on how many times one stops for gas, cheese, potty breaks and dog walks.
But this week, Minnesota Transplant and her Beloved are taking the scenic route. We’re driving the cute little reassembled Jeep (see what I’m talking about here), so we’re avoiding all interstate highways and embracing the journey through southwest Wisconsin.
Here’s one of the sights one misses when one drives 72 m.p.h.:
The Merrimac Ferry has been bringing cars and passengers across the Wisconsin River for more than a century and a half. We got a bonus performance (and delay) yesterday afternoon when a motorcyclist got into an altercation with an automobile driving for butting in line. The police were summoned, and gridlock ensued.
We just soaked in the sun and listened to the Rolling Stones, gathering no moss.