For a while, maybe longer if I do.

I had brunch at a little diner I'd been to a couple of times, all country music and John Deere memorabilia, with plaid curtains and wood-paneled walls. The coffee is bottomless, the butter is plentiful--essentially, it's such a window into so much of Ohio's culture, all those things I left there, tucked into a little corner in a tiny town in New England.

And I don't miss those things, at all, I don't. However, I do dream of treating my dad to blueberry pancakes every single time I see the blue paint on those external walls. Of course, then, as soon as I was back on the road toward my intended destination (and the relative safety of Andrew Bird and Iron & Wine), Aimee pops up on the radio, another Ohio-born reminder. I sang it all the way to Dave's.

This, of course, is not a diner. This is Mason, the jade turtle who keeps me company while I drive.