It’s not Italy’s Amalfi Coast, or California’s Pacific Coast Highway.
The flyover state of Minnesota is my home.
I rarely travel anymore.
And I’m not a wealthy woman.
Yet maybe I am.
My rusty Subaru and I hit the roads early yesterday at 5:30 a.m.
We had a 7:00 appointment with the morning sunrise just across the border in Wisconsin.
And we made it just in time.
My just reward was a warm slice of spinach quiche from a nearby bakery, with sugary Swedish donuts laced with cardamon for dessert.
As to the Subaru, it was treated to a fresh quart of oil at the gas station.
Opening the car door, I noticed I still had plenty of coins left in my pocket for the drive back.
It seems the best things in life are still free.
Well, almost anyway.