Over small hills and through cornfields to Mennonite villages we go.
We often say that we know our way, but GPS is running the show.
Diners and dives present us with mush; flavorless cornbread, dense and squished.
With syrup on top and buttery globs, some asked for more, but I did not.
People are nice here, but look at us strange, we are not from here, we came on a plane.
Damascus, Medina, Columbus and more, we're not sure where we play next, but we keep driving on.
When we're not playing music we search down these streets for a cup of great coffee and something to eat.
We ask every barista and local we meet to tell us the places we absolutely must see.
Songs are being written and some are all done, if you ask us nicely we'll play you one.
Most lyrics aren't finished, many tunes need work, so we rack our brains to find the right words.
Wake early in the morning to get on the road, drive late in the evening just after the show.
There's a rhythm to touring, a tempo that flows, and when you observe it, the smoother things go.
|Photo taken while careening down country roads at well over 100 mph.|