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BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO
We started dim and early out of Brooklyn yesterday morning, rising at 5 a.m. and hitting the road by 6. We drove under the Hudson River, past Jersey City, and eventually crossed over the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. The Poconos rose up big in front of us, and by 9 a.m. the irony and edge of New York City had given way to the dependable sincerity of the countryside. By early afternoon, we had seen two car accidents, eight dead deer, a Cartman doll facedown in a pool of motor oil, and a sign for the "Wendell August Historic Forge." The Poconos served up no fewer than five snowstorms, the worst of which was a full-fledged blizzard. This is the world that is I-80.









