I ordered the Baconator with a side of bacon.
Mmm.. fog...
Friday, Lars & I drove up to Wisconsin to visit the 'rents (which turned out to be a very awesome weekend, by the way, despite its rather craptacular beginning...)
So, Friday, Lars picked me up from work at 3:30. In the murky fogginess that was 465, we drove to McAllister's for lunch before starting our trek northward.
Usually, we drive up 65 to 80 or 94 (whichever has less construction on it that day), but Lars had heard that the Indiana Tollway was closed due to ice, so rather than chance the icy highways through downtown Chicago, we took 74 out to Bloomington, IL, then turned north.
F. O. G.
All the way.
We couldn't see more than 50 feet in ANY direction for the entire seven hour trip.
When we turned on to 43 at Rockford, we called my MIL to let her know we were maybe an hour and a half out at the pace we were going. She wanted to know "if the weather was holding" for us. I told her that if by holding she meant that we still couldn't see beyond the edge of our car, then yep, it was holding just fine. Then she assured us that there was no fog at their house. What she meant was there was no fog IN their house.
You haven't lived until you've spent seven hours trapped in a car with an end to the road in sight, yet never actually reaching that wall of white that appears in front of you.
Mmm.. fog...
Friday, Lars & I drove up to Wisconsin to visit the 'rents (which turned out to be a very awesome weekend, by the way, despite its rather craptacular beginning...)
So, Friday, Lars picked me up from work at 3:30. In the murky fogginess that was 465, we drove to McAllister's for lunch before starting our trek northward.
Usually, we drive up 65 to 80 or 94 (whichever has less construction on it that day), but Lars had heard that the Indiana Tollway was closed due to ice, so rather than chance the icy highways through downtown Chicago, we took 74 out to Bloomington, IL, then turned north.
F. O. G.
All the way.
We couldn't see more than 50 feet in ANY direction for the entire seven hour trip.
When we turned on to 43 at Rockford, we called my MIL to let her know we were maybe an hour and a half out at the pace we were going. She wanted to know "if the weather was holding" for us. I told her that if by holding she meant that we still couldn't see beyond the edge of our car, then yep, it was holding just fine. Then she assured us that there was no fog at their house. What she meant was there was no fog IN their house.
You haven't lived until you've spent seven hours trapped in a car with an end to the road in sight, yet never actually reaching that wall of white that appears in front of you.