So, here's the setup: Jordan, my fourteen-year-old, is attending the Joseph Baldwin Academy, a three-week summer program "for eminent young scholars" at Truman State University in Kirksville, Missouri, which is about a four-hour drive from our home in Omaha, Nebraska. Jordan has to be there on Saturday morning, but I'm taking Friday off, and we're planning to leave early and cache our way through southeastern Nebraska, western Iowa, and northern Missouri. Also, thanks to CarleenP, I have a handful of Yellow Jeep travel bugs, which we need to distribute into southeastern Nebraska caches.

The other part of the plan is this article. With apologies to Bill Simmons, we're keeping a running diary of what happens to us throughout the day. Here's hoping we're interesting. I have to say that I feel well-prepared for this. I have new hiking socks, for which I have high hopes, and a brand-new pair of convertible hiking pants. We are on top of things. We have planned meticulously. I have hard copies of over forty cache pages, with complete logs, in a folder, annotated and organized geographically. We are going to leave early in the morning, and we will be lean, efficient, caching machines.

Friday, June 11, 2004
11:15 a.m.
Leaving driveway. So much for early. This is not an auspicious beginning. Our plans were foiled when we got home late last night from shopping for the trip, to find that the laundry that was supposed to have been done in our absence was, in fact, not. Uh-oh. So we had to spend Thursday night doing laundry, and Jordan wasn't able to pack most of his things until Friday morning. We're caching now. The words "lean," "efficient," and "machines" seem less appropriate.

12:35 p.m.
We're approaching Plattsmouth, Nebraska, in order to place a Jeep into L&C Mouth of the Platte. The sign outside of town informs us that Plattsmouth is "a great community." Jordan opines that this reminds him a little too much of Tony the Tiger. "This is a grrrrrreat community!" We speculate that perhaps Tony lives here. As long as you keep the locals swimming in free breakfast cereal, they'll probably overlook it when you eat a small child now and then. Come to think of it, why is one of the world's largest carnivores selling sugar-coated wheat flakes?

12:38 p.m.
The radio gives us Cheap Trick, "I Want You to Want Me." It occurs to me that this is a song a person can sing along with, even if he or she has never heard the song before. You hear one verse, and you have the rest of it figured out. Oh, wait--there is only one verse.

12:39 p.m.
The radio station informs us that it is having a contest in which you can have a chance to "win Nebraska lottery tickets." In other words, you need to listen to the radio station in order to have a chance, albeit remote, to have a chance, albeit remote, to win something else. We turn the station.

"Yeah, we're suspicious. We're sticking an unidentified object into an ammunition canister in the middle of a public park. You got a problem with that?" 12:45 p.m.
We find the cache and drop the Jeep. It's sort of an odd experience, although I can't describe it too much without giving away the hide. It suffices to say that the cache is secured by a combination lock, and we don't care that there are geo-muggles staring at us the whole time. On one hand, it's disconcerting to ignore our well-learned routines of avoiding detection. On the other hand, it's sort of fun to brazenly disregard them. "Yeah, we're suspicious. We're sticking an unidentified object into an ammunition canister in the middle of a public park. You got a problem with that?"

2:32 p.m.
After stopping to log a micro, we're in Nebraska City, Nebraska, to drop a jeep in the Arbor Day Cache. Tree cover is a problem, and Jordan and I are dancing the Garmin Two-Step through the woods for a while. Mission accomplished. It's hot. I mean, really hot. And we have only logged three caches in as many hours. That means we need to stop caching and eat lunch.

3:25 p.m.
Mmmmm...Arby's. Leaving the restaurant, we see a poster offering a $100 reward for a lost "locator." There's more than a little irony there. "Why don't you just find it with your...oh, never mind." There's a picture which doesn't help--it looks like a fire hydrant caught in flagrante delicto with a wet-dry vacuum. What is a locator, anyway? Does it locate anything, or only some things in particular? This sort of question keeps me awake at night.

3:27 p.m.
The radio gives us Chuck Berry's "Rock 'n' Roll Music." Jordan has never heard the original version, only the Beatles' cover version. This is an oversight in his musical education that I suppose is my fault. But it's more fun to blame him.

Jordan: "I don't know who this is, but it's not the Beatles."
Dad: "It's Chuck Berry. The original artist?"
Jordan: "How was I supposed to know that?"
Dad: "You were just supposed to. You can't be my son. I have no son."
Jordan: " I'm right here."
Dad: "You're no one. You're a complete stranger. You're dead to me now. I don't want to know you, or what you do."
Jordan: "Well, I'm taking your Diet Coke."

3:37 p.m.
A road sign tells us to "Pass with Care." Another sign, a mile later, says to "Pass Recklessly." Okay, I made that last one up.

3:47 p.m.
We're on our way to drop our last Jeep in L&C Bobcats, near Peru, Nebraska. Jordan and I have been looking at locationless caches, and we remember The (Not-So) Famous Cities of the World, which is a locationless cache for "small towns named for famous old world places."

Jordan has theorized that at some point, mosquitoes will evolve so that they are not only not repelled by DEET, but they actually eat it. Dad: "Dude--Peru!"
Jordan: "Ummmm..."
Dad: "What? .... Oh. I'm an idiot."

3:48 p.m.
Jordan: "Hey, what about Nashville, Nebraska?"
Dad: "Ummmm..."
Jordan: "What?"

4:16 p.m.
Jordan has theorized that at some point, mosquitoes will evolve so that they are not only not repelled by DEET, but they actually eat it. I think we have found them. Or at least, I have. I must have worn the wrong shirt today, because they are swarming me, and leaving Jordan alone. I re-apply DEET, and they don't care. I jog to the cache location, because I'm still faster than the bugs are. I walk briskly in a circle while I log the cache. And I walk briskly back up the trail to the car, leaving Jordan trailing behind me. I hear this from the rear: "Hey, cool! It's, like, a three inch long mosquito. Freakin' huge!" This is not reassuring.

4:31 p.m.
It is even less reassuring that we don't find ticks on our persons, but one turns up in the car after we're in. And it's a small tick with a spot on its back, which isn't usually associated with Nebraska. Yikes.

4:36 p.m.
Okay, the tick problem just got less imperative, because there's a tractor coming down the dirt road towards where we've parked at the trailhead. A big tractor. A big, wide tractor, with some sort of attachment that looks like it was designed to pluck Coppertops from the baby fields in "The Matrix." The important fact here is that we're parked on the side of the road, and this thing is at least twice as wide as the road. Run away! How fast can a Buick go in reverse down a dirt road? Let's find out, shall we?

4:37 p.m.
Well, faster than a tractor, anyway.

5:15 p.m.
We are practicing triage on our cache list. It has taken us 6 hours to cache our way for a little over 60 miles. In other words, we could have left our house on bicycles and been here by now. This is not good.

It occurs to me that we have logged two caches dedicated to Lewis and Clark, who passed this way not quite 200 years ago. Jordan weighs in: "Hi, I'm Meriwether Lewis, and this is my partner, William Clark. We're looking for Montana. Which way is it?"

It then occurs to me that we are hurtling along beside the river on a four-lane paved road. We have the air conditioner blasting cold air at us, and we are covered with insect repellant and sunscreen. We are wearing synthetic fibers that shed heat and sweat like a bad dream. We have CDs playing, a cellular telephone plugged into the lighter socket, and 2 GPS receivers telling us exactly where we are on the planet. We are a caffeine- and petrochemical-powered dynamo, hurtling across America at breakneck speed to places we can locate on a pre-printed map within a matter of feet. Could we be any less like Lewis and Clark?

And I think Lewis and Clark made better time traveling this stretch of the river.

5:43 p.m.
We pass a billboard for the Jesse James Antique Mall. Jordan is confused about what an antique mall would have to do with Monster Garage. The generation gap rears its ugly head again.

6:03 p.m.
Don't you just hate exit signs that lie about the services available at that exit? We just hopped off the interstate to stop at a gas station promised at this exit. Except when we get to the end of the ramp, we're told it's a mile away. *grumble* But this is a four-lane highway, so a mile isn't that far, right?

Well, it wasn't a straight mile. It involved two right turns at major intersections, and a mile through city traffic. And to top things off, there was a median across from the only entrance to the gas station, so we couldn't turn in the right direction, and had to drive another block the wrong way to turn around. And while there are four signs getting you to the gas station, there are none to get you back to the Interstate.

So a quick, 5-minute pit stop just turned into a 20-minute tour of St. Joseph, Missouri. It's like a Roach Motel for travelers. I understand the economic reasoning behind getting people off the Interstate to spend money. But is it really good to do that by tricking and frustrating people? I vow to not stop in Missouri again. But then I realize that's where we're supposed to be going, so stopping again is probably a good idea.

We pass a sign that tells us to report fuel tax evasion. What I would like to know is, how do you evade fuel taxes in the first place? 6:05 p.m.
There's an exit sign for Vatterott College. Jordan observes that this one gets an exit sign, even though they're everywhere. It's like a franchise or something. Someday, when everything in the world is a Wal-Mart SuperCenter, next to a Walgreen's, next to a McDonald's, next to a Starbucks, they'll all be across the street from Vatterott College.

6:12 p.m.
We pass a sign that tells us to report fuel tax evasion. What I would like to know is, how do you evade fuel taxes in the first place? If it's so easy and unstoppable that the State of Missouri needs road signs to encourage citizens to rat on one other, this might be good information to have.

6:15 p.m.
Jordan: "You know how they mill the side of the road, so it makes a noise when you drive over too far? Why don't they do that in the very middle of the road, to prevent head-on collisions?" I have no response for that.

6:25 p.m.
We pass an apparently-serious billboard for "St. Munchkin Catholic Church." Saint Munchkin? I am the product of many years of Jesuit education, and no one ever mentioned that one. It would have to be off-putting to be named Archbishop of the Lollipop Guild.

6:30 p.m.
We pass a sign exhorting us to visit the Jim the Wonder Dog Memorial Garden. What, you ask, made Jim so wonderful? Well, among other things, Jim could read signs and license plates, understand four languages, and correctly picked the winners of the 1936 World Series, 1936 presidential election, and seven straight Kentucky Derbies.

I have no joke here. What's to add?

6:40 p.m.
We're stopping near Cameron, Missouri to trade some travel bugs at the EmBUGsy Suites. Jordan learns a helpful lesson about telling his father when parking coordinates are provided. We find the parking coords--and, hey! It's a big empty concrete hole that smells like sewage. Groovy. We find the cache and move the bugs.

6:47 p.m.
The radio plays us U2. Bono still can't find what he's been looking for.

Dad: "This isn't explained very well. What exactly has he been looking for, all these years?"
Jordan: "His hat."

7:06 p.m.
Signs inform us that one "Larry King" is running for County Commissioner. I'm sure it's a different Larry King from the talk show host and one-time newspaper columnist. But it's still an amusing idea: "Zoning laws shouldn't be used to stop legitimate businesses...we need to fix the roads...Kim Novak still looks terrific...nothing spruces up a garden like daffodils...Seabiscuit: great film, great book, great horse, great American...you wouldn't think it to look at the place, but there are a lot of things to do on vacation in Toronto...I'm drunk right now...marry me...oh, and vote for the sewer bond initiative."

7:09 p.m.
We are headed to find some caches in Missouri's Wallace State Park.

Jordan: "Something tells me Wallace State Park is that way."
Dad: "Was it the big green sign that said Wallace State Park is that way?"
Jordan: "Maybe."

7:10 p.m.
Jordan: "Something else tells me Wallace State Park is that way."
Dad: "Oh, shut up."

7:11 p.m.
Jordan: "Something..."
Dad: "Dude!"

7:12 p.m.
We drive over a one-lane bridge in a no-passing zone. So you can't see the oncoming traffic coming. This doesn't seem like a good idea for anyone.

Jordan thinks there was room on the bridge for two cars at the same time. Yet another reason you should all be thrilled about the fact that he is soon to be a licensed driver on a road near you.

7:16 p.m.
A sign at the trailhead reports, "Some hikers have reported large numbers of ticks." Ticks are everywhere this year. I see log after log mentioning them. And, now, park signs.

"If I threw my GPSr up into the trees, would it get a better signal before it came down?" 7:22 p.m.
Jordan: "Is this cache going to be on the trail?"
Dad: "I don't know. Who has the cache page?"
Jordan: "Oh."

7:25 p.m.
We're doing the Garmin Two-Step again. Jordan asks, "If I threw my GPSr up into the trees, would it get a better signal before it came down?" I suggest that this might be counterproductive.

7:52 p.m.
This is one of the weirdest things that has happened to me while caching. There are snails everywhere. On the trail, off the trail...they're literally everywhere. And they're the same color as the rocks, which means you can't help stepping on them.

I can't adequately explain how disgusting this is. Every other step is accompanied by the sickening "crunch" of another smashed mollusk. I never had a frame of reference for the term "walking on eggshells" before, but that's exactly what this is like. Flattened gastropods. Ick.

8:05 p.m.
We found the last cache of the day, The Skunk Went This Way. It's been looted. We're able to replace the log book and leave a few trade items. It seems like we've been trading up all day--lots of leaving something for nothing. I suppose that when you're taking your kid to college, even if it's only a three-week summer program, it's prudent to build up some good karma.

8:17 p.m.
We're heading back to the trailhead.

Dad: "We'll find a place that looks like a good source of quick food and eat that."
Jordan: "Eat the quick food, or the place that looks like a good source of quick food?"
Dad: "... Well, the place, of course."
Jordan: "At least drywall is high in fiber."

It's my own fault for raising another excessively-literal grammar fascist.

8:49 p.m.
We're still above mosquitoes on the evolutionary tree. Revenge is mine. The bugs are so thick on this highway that it's literally like driving through sleet. Icky, but not as icky as the snails. And the snails didn't try to eat me first.

8:51 p.m.
Oooh--that was a big, juicy one. I think we need to stop and squeegee. Is that a verb?

8:53 p.m.
There's a town called Lingo, Missouri. I wonder if the residents feel pressure to talk funny.

9:02 p.m.
You know those old neon signs, that try to give the impression of animation by lighting in sequence, but usually just look confusing? We just passed a weird one. We actually drive by twice, and neither of us can figure out what this is supposed to be. It looks to me like a fox mugging someone with a pipe.

Jordan breaks out a Christopher Walken impersonation: "I jumped out from behind his car and pranked him to death with a tire iron!" I have to do something about his bedtimes.

9:06 p.m.
Mmmmm...Taco Bell.

10:50 p.m. The words "Holiday Inn Express" have not, in my experience, looked this good before.

Saturday, June 12, 2004
Fictional log entry: "Found location with little trouble. Easy walk from parking coords. Hot! Glad the rain cleared, though. TN, SL, left kid. Will return later. Hope you know how big I traded up."