A little Boomer nostalgia here. We used to play the license plate game on road trips. You remember, looking for a car from every state as we drove along.  It was easier back then because every state had just one license plate – two colors, either a dark background with light letters and numerals or a light background with dark letters and numerals. Rumor had it that the states had their license plates cut and stamped by the inmates in their penitentiaries.

Advanced players in the license plate game could also cite the state motto that was stamped onto many of the state plates. We knew exactly where we were if we traveled across America’s Dairyland to 10,000 Lakes, from the Empire State to the Keystone State, the Heart of Dixie to the Peach State, or the Evergreen State to Famous Potatoes.

Wyoming did not have a state motto on its license plate, but they had that famous cowboy on his bucking bronco. Was there one inmate whose job it was to stamp that cowboy onto every plate?

For reasons that are all good but a bit complicated, Becky and I are setting out today for our second of three round trips across the Hoosier State, the Land of Lincoln, and the Show Me State. Nearly 600 miles per leg and aside from cities along the way, mostly what they call “fly over” country. But we aren’t flying over. We are driving through. Corn and soy fields, grazing cattle, truck stops, farms, and tired little towns.

As we drive through flyover country, we stretch our legs at an occasional rest stop (though the Land of Lincoln seems to have closed most of theirs for repair and remodeling) and refuel at the truck stops. To be sure, when you’re buying coffee at a truck stop in Show Me you’re unlikely to think you might be in Manhattan or Marin County. Flyover folks are different.

Sometimes people from places like Manhattan or Marin make disparaging comments about the people of flyover country. Yes, they speak differently and dress differently, and the cashier at the truck stop is likely to call you “Hon,” but like those who live in Marin and Manhattan, they are fellow Americans, people living their lives and doing their best.

On the political maps flyover country tends to be tinted red while the coastal cities are tinted blue. Perhaps the tint of the political maps is helpful for political purposes, but we would do well to quit describing entire populations as red or blue. We’re people. I could add some pertinent theological comments, but I won’t. We’re people.

Apparently, there are lots of stories, but no one really knows why they call it the Show Me State. As for me, I always thought the bucking bronco license plate was the coolest.  As for me, I always thought the bucking bronco license plate was the coolest.