The Iowa Roadie & husband recently had CoVid.

I have to admit that this has been an atrocious experience. I equate it to a Mack truck parking itself on our chests…for two weeks.

During this time, we alternated between coughing, sleeping and watching an endless stream of horrible television shows.

We hardly ate. (Perhaps the ONLY positive in the situation.)

Most horrific… we have not had an alcoholic drink in three weeks. My liver is in shock from the sudden detox.

Kidding aside, the virus hit us both hard.

Super hard.

At one point, I pondered what would happen if we didn’t recover. What would our legacy be?

Fortunately we ARE recovering, and will see the day where we enjoy another cocktail and platter of cheese balls.

But is THAT our legacy? Fried food & cheap drinks?

Perhaps not the worst way to be memorialized…

But hopefully we can do better.

I want to be remembered for the WAY I live…which is simply following the Iowa Roadie’s three basic guiding principles.

Sit at the bar.
Talk to the locals.
Don’t be scared by appearances.

There are people who don’t understand the concept of the Iowa Roadie and are horrified that we want to be remembered for “sitting in a bar.”


Sitting AT the bar. It’s all in the preposition.

Because sitting AT the bar puts you in the action. It propels you out of your comfort zone, and forces you to interact with others.

By nature, I am an introvert. My instinct is to hide in the corner with a plate of bacon cheese fries and a fruity drink.

Fortunately the Iowa Roadie’s husband created the “sitting at the bar” rule so that carbs can be shared with strangers… who soon transition to friends.

(I apologize for the sap dripping from that last statement.)

Regardless, I stand by my sentiment. If we had never sat at the bar, we would have missed the opportunity to meet people like our motorcycle club friend Uncle T, or Wayne who has a pet alligator named after the Hamms Beer bear, or Tad whose culinary talents resulted in a first place Mystery Meat trophy.

We have enjoyed homemade salsa with the mayor of Dows, population 580. We have sung karaoke with a Mexican band and played bingo with Minnesota war heroes. We attended the celebration of life for a friend at a small town bar.

We played Shot Madness.

And darts.

And shuffleboard.

We have eaten fried green tomatoes, hand-breaded tenderloins and juicy cheeseburgers in pubs with Christmas lights, dog murals and duct taped stools.

We’ve toasted “mystery shots,” moose juice and loaded Bloody Marys.

We have accepted free drinks for turning 50 (me) or looking like Brett Favre (my husband).

We are especially thankful for the camaraderie of other dive bar patrons…like #1 Roadie fan Joel who wears his Iowa Roadie shirt with pride wherever he goes.

Thanks to a trio of self-proclaimed rules that include sitting at the bar, we have been active participants in life and made some incredible friends and memories along the way.

And THAT, dear friends, is our legacy.

Even if it is dripping in ranch dressing.

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