Woke up pretty early this morning in Iowa City. Did a little work, sent some shit off and set out for some “rural American action.” And man, did I find it. I headed north, with the little town of Dyersville as the destination.

Dyersville is the home of the Field of Dreams original movie set. I’ve seen that movie a million times. Hokey, sure, but, so good.

The ride up to Dyersville was great, Gentle, rolling cornfields for as far as the eye can see, in every direction. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was 62 degrees. It was October.

I love Iowa.

408. “I love Iowa.”
409. “The best name for a grocery store, ever.”

Got into town, found a gigantic antique barn with like 100 dealers, and killed a little time before the local Days Inn would allow me to check in. Walked out with a ton of goodies, and, directions from a couple sweethearts to the next stop on the junkin’ circuit. Thanks, ladies.

410. “Junkin’ Afternoon, no.01”
411. “Junkin’ Afternoon, no.02”
412. “Junkin’ Afternoon, no.03”
413. “Junkin’ Afternoon, no.04”

Checked in, loaded in, set up shop, did a little work, made a couple calls, talked some shit, wondered, plttoed future missions and counted the minutes down to that golden sunset at 6:39 PM. That’s when the light would be the best at the Field of Dreams, man.

I drove over to the field just before six. This would give me a a good hour to get some shots, walk the field, sit on the bleachers and so on, before Ryno got arrived from Minneapolis, and everything went to hell.

So I get there, unload, feeling happy and American and shit, and this frantic Granny walks past me, without making eye contact and says, “Closing at six. You can take a couple pictures. But then I have to close the gate. Private property, here. Family lives in the house.”

But, I came all this way….and…the light is the best in 40 minutes…and…what the fuck?…and….

Pretty frustrating. I had five minutes to do a quick walk-through. Here’s what I got:

410. “If you build it, they will come.”
411. “Is this heaven?”
412. “No, this is Iowa!”
413. “Go the distance.”
414. “This is my corn. You people are guests in my corn.”
415. “It was a hot dog.”
416. “They’ll come to Iowa for reasons they can’t even fathom…”

Miffed, hurried and just plain plumb dog mean, I left the grounds and headed out into the country for a long loop back to town, and cooled off back to normal. Got back to the room and knocked out some shit, waiting for Ryno to show up.

He rolled into town around 10pm. We quickly regrouped and headed over to Dubuque over on the Mississippi River for some nighttime action.

Well, we found the town, and that was about it. No action. No wild women. No barfights. No riverboat brawls. No broken beer bottles. No stitches. Nothing, pretty much.

We saddled up at heavily-taxidermied joint called, “Paul’s Tavern. Had a cold Old Style and caught up on shit.

421. “Paul’s Taxidermy Tavern, no.01”
422. “Paul’s Taxidermy Tavern, no.02”
423. “Paul’s Taxidermy Tavern, no.03”
424. “Paul’s Taxidermy Tavern, no.04”
425. “Paul’s Taxidermy Tavern, no.05”

Dubuque was a dud, so we split back to Dyersville. Ryno was in no mood for shut-eye, of course, and “partied” late into the night. Dickhead.

426. “Ryno is a real quick thinker on the road…”
427. “…and, not afraid to get the party started.”