I was a little delayed because I took a little side trip. I saw that I was going to be passing close to Griggsville, IL. That name conjured up childhood memories of taking weekend trips in Fall with my dad to buy apples. I didn't understand it at the time, but it was just an excuse for my dad to give his family a nice relaxing weekend drive. It really wasn't about the apples. It was about a family tradition. I knew the name of the place but not the exact location. We're talking about a 35-year old memory here! Familiarity flooded back in as I drove down the small main street. The town is the purple martin capitol of the world with a huge multi-storied birdhouse in the center of town. THAT I remembered well. I then drove down a few roads to try to find the orchard. No luck. I just now Google mapped the area and I didn't see anything that looked like an orchard any where around there. I also Googled the orchard name that I had remembered, at it had an address in nearby Pittsfield. I remembered that town as well. Had I mixed them up? I didn't see any orchards there either. Hmmmm. I'll have to investigate on another trip.
I also drove down a few backroads where I swear I heard banjos. No luck. Nobody asked me to squeal like a pig. *grin* I love having a GPS on my travels where all of the backroads are marked.
I also kept up the tradition of stopping at the McDonalds in Dwight, IL. It started back in 1983 when we took Hwy 47 to Champaign and the U of I. My dad would ALWAYS stop there to use the bathroom and get coffee. Every U of I football game he drove down to see would always include a stop at that McDonalds. Every time he picked me up from or dropped me back at school included a stop at that McD's. In '83 it was the only thing at that exit along with a gas station. Now there are several gas stations as well as motels and a couple other fast food joints. There's something very comforting in traditions.