The sky was blue. Our spirits were high. Buster laid by my side – as riding shotgun is his habit. We pulled out of our driveway at 9:30 a.m. and headed west. The thermometer read five below zero. And the truck radio played Bob Seger’s “On the road again, here I go, turn the page.”
By the time we reached Albert Lea, Minn., it was three degrees above zero. We turned south while the Lynyrd Skynyrd band played “Sweet Home Alabama.” Somewhere in central Iowa we turned right during “Hotel California” and an hour later swung south again while wondering if Guitar George really knew all the chords.
It was the last few days of Iowa’s pheasant hunting season and Buster, my English cocker spaniel, and I were on our way to the home of good friend Pastor Craig and his family.