Cicada-Fire

The cicadas aren't out yet in Tennessee, but as I was driving north on I-65 enroute to Indianapolis earlier today, my car was bombarded by a large caravan of the singing insects in-transit. At 75 mph, it sounded kind of like machine-gun fire rattling the side of my sporty G6 rental. After it scared the hell out of me, I laughed. I've never seen (or heard) so many cicadas in one place.

There's something about those little buggers that signify the onset of summer. It's like that first smell of summer honeysuckle, or that insatiable craving I've had for ice cream during this past week of 90 degree weather. Cicadas are summertime.

Ben and I used to try and find cicada shells in perfect, mint condition at Grandma and Grandpa's house. We'd pluck the little shells off the large maple trees in their backyards, and would sometimes stumble across a shell that had no cracks with every leg in place. And then we'd go and put them on Gran-monster's shoulder and try to scare her. She humored us. It doesn't take much to entertain us. Obviously.

Anyway, I was thrilled when I walked outside L-Way today to pick up my rental car, and was handed the keys to a sparkling white Pontiac G6. Now, I'm not a fan of American-made cars, but when renting a compact car, I don't want to get stuck with something like a Toyota Carolla. I want something zippy with a little horsepower under the engine.

Two summers ago (Spring Break 2006 to be exact), we rented two cars to travel down to Florida. I lucked out with a G6 and Amanda got stuck with a Carolla. My car kicked her cars ass on the interstate--so much so that I had to force myself to go below the speed limit just so the-little-car-that-could was able to keep up (this is certainly no reflection of you, Amanda, as it wasn't your fault that you got stuck with that piece).

Needless to say, I had a lot of fun on the road today. And I happen to love car trips, and love to drive, and love to drive alone, and especially love uncharted territory. I've been to Chicago and to Columbus, but I've never driven up the path to Indianapolis. Along the way, I realized that Kentucky is a rather beautiful state, with lots of pretty trees.

Outside of Bowling Green, I saw a billboard and a huge, pinky-orange, life-size tyrannosaurus about to attack the interstate. It was an advertisement for "Dinosaur World" and for about ten seconds, I seriously considered exiting. And then it was too late, as I flew past the off-ramp. Does anyone know about this??? I was rather fascinated. I love dinosaurs. I want to go here someday. And that big T-Rex reminded me of a scene from Pee Wee's Big Adventure.

The farther north I traveled, the less there was to look at. Although, I did notice an abundance of DQs and I stopped for a chocolate dip cone (one of my favorite things on earth, that McDonalds can only imitate half-heartedly). When I ordered, the girl repeated my order back to me and kind of mumbled. I ordered again. And she mumbled back some more. She finally stated in non-redneck speak that I had a choice of the traditional vanilla ice cream with my choco dip, or chocolate ice cream inside the crunchy, bulbous shell. Ok, I admire DQ's efforts to indulge people's chocolate fetishes, but seriously---a dip cone is meant to have vanilla ice cream. Duh.

Over the Indiana border, I did a bit of outlet shopping, and then I rolled into Indy at about 7 p.m. After I checked into the hotel, I discovered a Super Target and a Panera, and am now enjoying a peaceful evening in my room. We've had some bad weather here tonight...tornadoes and such. Now I'm off to bed. I've got an early morning looming.