I remember things he said to me on our trips together far more vividly than things from in town. I remember all the strangest stories he told me and where we were when he told them. There is something to be said for the midwest, the prairie landscapes all drawn out on a grid, with the differences stark in contrast, the property lines, the seismic lines, the churches and the grain silos and the pump jacks lining the horizon. On a clear day you can see for miles, endless. You can see the fog roll in, and sometimes, on the flat lands you’ll get lost in it. It is all that you can see. Yourself and a haze of everything around you.