We’ve entered Minnesota from North Dakota.
North Dakota was fascinating–not flat, more trees than Montana, very serious industrial scale agriculture, and sincerely nice and polite people everywhere. One fellow cut me off by entering the right-hand lane–where I was–making a left turn. He stopped; backed up; and profusely apologized saying that he drove that route nearly every morning and never encountered a car, let alone a bicycle, on the turn. He didn’t have to come back and apologize; he did and he meant it.
But, in Minnesota the roads have curves. And the roads are tree-lined. And the coffee is made with those new-fangled EYE-talian high pressure machines.