Night in New Buffalo

Driving west by Interstate, you really can get a sense of the gradual turning of the Earth. You don’t get that flying. You cross continents by plane and you get inside a tin can, wait a few hours, leave and — boom! — it’s as if you’ve entered an alien world.

Driving, or taking the train, the change is gradual. Today, I looked up at the sky and was momentarily amazed to see that there was still sunlight to be seen at 10:15 p.m. Then I realized that we were in New Buffalo, Michigan, Mile 1 of the I-94. Go one mile further west and the clocks are pulled back to 9:15 p.m., somewhat earlier that I would expect the edge of full night to be back home.

We’re off to Des Moines. The trip was as uneventful as you could ever hope for. We left around 2 p.m., made good time to the border, and crossed the Bluewater Bridge. The line-up of people coming to Canada stretched right across the bridge to the other side, but we went straight up to a nearly empty gate on the American side, caught the crew on shift change. Our total waiting time at the border was less than five minutes.

The kids slept in the car, so we didn’t end up eating dinner until 7, when we were past Lansing. Even with the nap, the girls are heading to sleep, now. Tomorrow, depending on the traffic around Chicago, we should be in Des Moines in time for dinner. As always, it’s good to keep your fingers crossed.

In other news, my latest column for the Kitchener Post is now up.

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