I realize I could have avoided the Winfield Disaster by not being an idiot. Phooey.

We finally get to Winfield. And guess what? There’s one last, twisted, gawdawful punchline to the dang joke.

It’s 3 a.m. in Winfield. We’re finally there. And...and...it’s not over yet. (Argh.)

We finally get to Oklahoma...just before the storm. (Yikes.)

A tale of rental cars, distained discounts, deathless enmity, and, oh yes, the dancing Loch Ness Monster.

I am Uber-whelmed. And other comedies. #stampoutennui #xcargo #bustravel 

We enjoy Hens and Hops, and then we're off to rent a car to continue North.

We finally decide on the bus...and I make a really stupid joke. (Bell Hop. Bell, that is. And Hop.)

I think Greyhound is the best bet. Have I mentioned that I'm really stupid? Just making sure.

I thought it was such a good idea. Whoa. Was I wrong.

And I begin the tale of the Great Winfield Disaster.

I say goodby to “Fred,” curse ALS, and praise the glory of the Sunflower.

We explore Newkirk, OK, meet a Stagecoach and a Bald Farmer...and I hear from “Fred” for the very last time. Ever.

More about Winfield, Kansas, and more about Fred...in his final days.

We tour the lovely town of Winfield...and I worry about my friend. And death.

More on our trip to Kansas. And I discover one of my oldest friends is dying.

We travel to Winfield to see an old friend...and I learn that someone I’ve known for decades is dangerously ill.