EXACTLY halfway between Chicago and Los Angeles, on old Route 66 (the same one you get your kicks on) is the little town of Adrian, TX. It's a wide spot on the road that used to have a decent cafe, now closed. I know exactly halfway because there is a line painted on the road that says just that.
Also, all around town, these signs appear in yards, on trees, on buildings. I have no idea who, where or what. Years ago, when I hunted near here (Blue Quail, gobs of them in a good year on a private 32,000 AC. a friend owns) the cafe owner had some information, but my brain memory is full. That particular set of facts got dumped. So, I made up stuff in my head, none of which is true.
One thing I truly love about flyover country is that there are still individuals out there. We still have some divergent thinkers, thank God for that! One lives or lived here. I wonder what his (I do think it is a him) story is? Actually, the true story would never live up to the one I've made up anyway. This little wide spot in the road, with no cafe or gas station, has some interesting thinking winding throughout the dirt streets.
