Tornadoes, Turtles & CVS: A Very Indiana Day
The day definitely didn’t go to plan. Then again, I’m not sure what the plan was, so maybe it went exactly as expected.
I left my campsite and pulled over to adjust the suspension—because clearly, that’s what normal people do at 8:00 a.m. There are three main settings on my Van Compass Falcon 3.3 shocks, and I set them to Level 1: “Off-road, rough terrain, may encounter goats.” The difference was immediate. The van rode smoother, like it had just exhaled.
I saw a lot of deer that morning. One was calmly eating someone’s landscaping—inside a six-foot metal fence, like it had RSVP’d for brunch. When it spotted me, it casually hopped the fence like it was a suggestion. A little further down, I did a double take when a three-legged deer crossed the road. It wasn’t missing a leg—it had one that was short and misshapen. I don’t know how it’s made it this far, but I found myself rooting for it.
Then came the turtle. A perfect little shelled ambassador lumbering across the road. I got out, snapped a photo, and made sure he made it to the other side. We shared a moment. He moved on. I got back in the van.
In Columbus, Indiana, I stopped at a CVS for vitamins. It was one of those newer, cleaner locations in what looked like an upscale suburb. Someone actually greeted me at the door, which I found confusing. I grabbed my vitamins, spotted a bottle of red wine (yes, wine… at CVS), and headed to the register. I mentioned I’d never seen wine in a CVS before—maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough.
Wine Aisle at CVS.
In Columbus, Indiana, I stopped at a CVS for vitamins. It was one of those newer, cleaner locations in what looked like an upscale suburb. Someone actually greeted me at the door, which I found confusing. I grabbed my vitamins, spotted a bottle of red wine (yes, wine… at CVS), and headed to the register. I mentioned I’d never seen wine in a CVS before—maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough.
That’s when I got stuck in checkout limbo.
My CVS card didn’t work. The app wouldn’t update. Cell signal was terrible. I walked back to the van for my health provider card. Turns out they had the wrong number on file. We had to start over. Twice. The cashier was incredibly patient, and I let the two people who showed up during this epic saga go ahead of me, just to preserve a little dignity.
Somewhere along the way, I had to stop for geese. Three different towns. They walked like they had nowhere to be and all day to get there.
I had planned to ride at Eagle Creek, but the information I had was wrong—no bikes allowed. From somewhere in the back office, a woman yelled, “Try the Big-4 Rail Trail in Zionsville!” and started looking it up on Google. Another 35 minutes in the opposite direction.
I followed Google Maps to what I assume was a trail entrance… though it looked more like a muddy tractor path leading to a cornfield. No signage. No parking lot. Just mud and some old tire ruts filled with water. But I’d come this far, and I wasn’t about to drive in circles looking for an official trailhead.
The trail itself was great—new, well-maintained, and peaceful. I rode out 6.5 miles, and just as I turned around, it started to sprinkle. The sky to the west looked serious. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed: TORNADO WARNING.
Tornado Warning
GREAT!!! It started raining hard. Then harder. The wind picked up. Trees were doing yoga. I ducked under a bridge and huddled up next to one of the supports, which was still warm from the sun. The rain swirled, then slowed, then picked back up. The warning said 15 minutes, and right on cue, it let up enough for me to get moving again.
The trail was now covered in debris—branches everywhere, puddles that could float a canoe, and a couple of small bridges under water. The tunnels had flooded too. I pushed through it all and made it back to the van. Somehow the rain had stopped, but the path back to the van was now a slip-n-slide.
I moved the van to drier ground, changed into warm clothes, and decided I was absolutely not cooking. I found a NY-style pizza place—Amore’s—30 minutes away and drove straight there like it was the promised land.
Then I swung by Kroger. For groceries. And yes, ice cream. Because if there was ever a day that justified dessert, it was one with deer, turtles, tornadoes, and a 40-minute CVS checkout.
Tomorrow: the Indiana State House. I stayed across the street in a hotel years ago. I’m sure it’s gone. Everything else seems to be.