With life going crazy lately, yesterday seemed a good day to take to the open road. Oh, was I right.

Along the way to a candy store that reportedly has the largest collection of candy and root beer this side of the Mississippi, we saw what looked like an armadillo attempting to cross the road. We don’t have armadillos this far north, so it was a real find. Turns out, it was a giant turtle. We slowed to go around him, and as we passed, I called out the window, “Go, turtle, go!” which prompted said turtle to turn himself around to look at me. Fascinating.

Further down the road and still talking about the turtle, we passed an old farm outbuilding that looked like a metal cylinder except that the roof had caved in. It looked like a large tin can on its side that had been smashed by a giant. As we found the highway we’d been seeking for 40 miles, we’d finally agreed on a name for the turtle: Mr. R. Sullivan. We have our reasons for this, based on the majesty of the turtle and his insistence on turning to look at me.

Finally, in the distance, we saw a giant, butter-yellow colored building—the candy store did exist! But, pulling into the parking lot, we saw a large sign that said, “Opening Thursday.” This being Tuesday, it was not a good sign.

We’d spent a couple hours on this road trip, en route to a fabled candy store–and we did find it. Thus, mission success. And, let’s face it, discovering the land of the giant-smashed building and meeting Mr. R. Sullivan made it the greatest trip to nowhere, ever.
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