Me and my Little Blue Wing made it ten hours across the Midwest, flapping the wide lands—a lake holding trees, bordering highway and fields. On 70 going west from KC, I passed Kingdom City—gateway me towards the Jubilee grounds.  I stopped in Ozarkland, those hilly stretches that landed me in star-studded, chewy-taffy Missouri. I soared across a bit of Illinois, chasing bluebirds and Grateful Dead on my stereo.  I dipped and darted across Indiana- shouting “Terre Haute, Terre Haute,” like a backyard football coach, just to remember an old tour friend from there.  Under the arches, into Ohio, Stella blue stretch and onto Columbus, thenHebron.  Oh, Dover, oh, Buckeye Lake, oh playground.  Truly this is where it started, back in 92’ trekking here with high school friends, and breaking the world of the freedom-riding America wide open, to stick with me and keep me coming back.