On Wednesday, we set off in our rented KIA for Cleveland. Our big vacation. It's not first class to Ibiza, but that's the state of our finances right now.
Because the kids are small, we broke up the trip into small bite size portions and a hotel stay in the center of the Pennsylvania. That meant two days in the car, two days in Cleveland, and two more days in the car.
It's all good. The kids got time to kick around in hotel pools, and Steve and I distracted ourselves with elegies for the decaying towns that follow the rusting rail lines of the midwest. (next post)
It's all good, except for the food. Good lord, where do you have to go to get something healthy? What's wrong with some steamed carrots? Grilled chicken? Brown rice? Sans salt and grease? I'm sure there's some decent restaurants down one of the smaller highways and roads, but along Route 80, all we found were Wendy's, Burger King, and McDonald's.
My colon is so lubricated with french fry oil, I'll be .... Well, nevermind.
Why is the American highway so devoid of good food? Where are the cute little pubs that follow England's major roads that serve ale and plowman's specials? I want some pickled onions, dammit.
Can we blame our Fast Food Nation on some deficit in the American character (fear of novelty, preference for speed over pleasure) or is it a plot of corporate baddies to squelch out competition?