Comfort food in the comfort zone: Breakfast at the Bob Evans in Hagerstown, the Maryland city where Bill's brother Terence used to live.

Hills, Billy! Western Maryland starts to have some topography (remember the Cumberland Gap?) This is Sideling Hill, as seen from I-68 near Hancock, Md. The pedestrian bridge, named for state Sen. Victor Cushwa, connects a parking lot to the Sideling Hill Exhibit Center.

Speaking of Cumberland: We didn't stop this time, but it's quite a picturesque town. Great setting for a novel of class conflict: The mansions are all on a steep bluff overlooking the downtown and the cheap apartment houses and the liquor stores.

Almost heaven? Well, not quite, but Morgantown, home to West Virginia University, is yet another of Appalachia's charming mini-urban settings. In a Calvin Trillin moment, we sampled a local delicacy for sale at the checkout counter of a 7-Eleven: a Pepperoni Roll from Abruzzino's Italian Bakery of Gypsy, W.Va. A sparse but spicy filling inside a slightly undercooked white roll. It was a gummy delight, but a brief visit to the oven would have made it perfect.

JD in her element: Yes, we have some pictures with people in them!

Light at the end: After a brief jaunt into Pennsylvania it was back into West Virginia. This is the Wheeling Tunnel. Then came Ohio.

Discovering America: The houses of Columbus, Ohio.

Indiana? Fireworks? Well, after Ohio, just about anything seems exciting.

Luck of the draw: Day 1 was one of the few days on this trip when we didn't have a hotel reservation. We ended up ready to stop at the same godforsaken edge-of-Indianapolis exit where Bill had stayed a couple of years back for a speaking engagement with the Hoosier State Press Association, but there were no rooms. Some sort of auto race was in town (Racing in Indianapolis? Who knew?). But there was room at one inn: the Baymont Inn and Suites. It was just fine.

BW in his element: Fried clams at Joe's Crab Shack, down the access road from the hotel. Yes, Joe's is a chain. We could have eaten there in Fairfax County, Va., half an hour from home. But somehow we thought a lack of local color was quite representative of Indianapolis's local color.