Irony can be so cruel.
Annah and I parted ways in Iowa City, Iowa. I was in search of sustainability. Annah was on her way back to Athens to make our lives a bit more sustainable. Rent never rests.
She had flown into Columbus, Ohio. I was navigating our 1980 diesel wagon across the fields of Iowa, hoping to make Nebraska by sunset. After a lengthy layover in Chicago, she landed safely at 3 a.m. in Columbus. I stumbled upon rows of “ditch weed,” bordering the oceans of industrial soy beans and corn, while attempting to photograph feedlots on Iowa back roads.
Annah directed the cab driver towards her friends house in Columbus. She paused for roughly five seconds in her decision of whether to turn left or right at an intersection. That five seconds could have made all the difference.
I came close to Nebraska, but ran out of diesel and steam near Dave’s World truck stop in Onawa, Iowa. I pulled my back seat down and made a bed of my car.
Annah eventually told the cab driver to make the turn. A car coming in their direction swerved into the cab’s lane and then swerved again. His car slammed into a telephone pole. He was drunk.