After I returned from Bennett's studio, where I spent about two hours, we headed back to Madison. There wouldn't be much point in telling this story if it weren't for a few amusing details.
First of all, the rains and the biblical flood started up again. Second, we hit the road on a route well known to my sister, but after a while we turned on the GPS. It arrogantly informed us that we were heading entirely the wrong way, and we needed to turn around, roll back 10 miles, and take another highway. The thing is, my sister used to live on the east side of Madison and was used to driving straight there from the Dells on Interstate 94. But Middleton is on the west side, and it's easier to cruise there taking the western Highway 12.
First we drove along the blue one, then along the red one
When we reached Baraboo, a most unpleasant piece of news awaited us. Because of the constant rains, the rivers had flooded, and many highways were barricaded, including a section of Highway 12. After poking around in various directions trying to outflank the forces of nature, we achieved exactly nothing – the snappy American road crews had stuck “road closed” signs everywhere. Because of this, we had to drive all the way back to Interstate 94. We ended up burning through a whole tank of gas, and since 94 was jammed with cars – we wasted many hours of time, too.
I've probably mentioned this already, but Americans absolutely love buying multi-ton pickup trucks for no good reason. They call this marvel a “truck”, which literally translates to “gruzovik”. Such a vehicle devours a ton of fuel, takes up a lot of space, and doesn't offer any tangible difference compared to a regular car for the average owner, yet it's a true American fetish. If there's any universal symbol of the American nation, it's these trucks – massive, gas-guzzling, and usually intended purely for “showing off”.
An attempt to ford the obstacle
There is, of course, a positive side to such vehicles. And it's a kind of embodiment of “freedom”. After all, a truck like this is extremely spacious, which allows you to toss a mountain of tents, kayaks, and other camping gear into it and bug out somewhere a thousand miles away. Besides, it really is better than a normal car at handling difficult terrain, which is exactly what we're observing in the picture.
The current is strong, it could even flip a small car
But a thrifty person wouldn't risk driving like that – they say that getting a ton of moisture inside when hitting a puddle is bad for the car. On the other hand, fording water obstacles like this must be a really fun activity.
In any case, oil is getting more expensive, and so Americans are buying fewer trucks, and those who did buy them sometimes don't drive them. But Americans will never be able to give up something that forms the very core of their mentality. The distances in the US are just too vast, and the destinations too varied, for any other solution to cut it.
A lake
Here are some quotes from the famous book about oil, “The Prize”, which I'm reading right now.
The growth of the automobile industry was phenomenal. The number of registered vehicles in the United States grew from 8,000 in 1900 to 902,000 in 1912. A decade later, the automobile was no longer a novelty and had become a familiar fixture, transforming the face and morals of modern society. And all of this was based on oil.
But why are there trees growing in the middle of a lake?
And one more:
America had fallen in love with the automobile all over again, and now consumers had the means to continue the romance. In 1945, there were 26 million cars in service; by 1950, there were 40 million. Virtually no one in the oil industry was prepared for the explosive demand for all petroleum products. Gasoline sales in the United States in 1950 were 42 percent higher than in 1945, and by 1950, the consumption of oil as an energy source had surpassed the consumption of coal.
And why is there a road paved right through the middle of the lake?
The fact that I was in Wisconsin right during the floods was great – just one more experience for the books. Plus, I just love water in general. The last few sunny pictures aren't from the drive back to Madison, but from our camping trip the next day, but whatever, who cares, since I'm already talking about floods.
And what is this contraption in the middle of the lake?
The doohickey in the photo is an irrigation sprinkler, and all the lakes in the photos are actually flooded fields.
