Because it’s absurd. You go from a town with a giant squirrel to a city with a giant fork. You eat squirrel burgers and frog legs. You drive past llamas who judge you. It’s a carnival of the ordinary made weird.
And honestly, that’s the Missouri magic. The state doesn’t try to be cool. It just is cool, in a backwoods, “I know a guy who knows a guy” way. Greenfield to Springfield is a microcosm of middle America. It’s quirky, kind, and totally unpretentious.
Don’t forget to do this:
Stop at a gas station called “Larry’s.” They sell fried pickles and beef jerky made from actual cow testicles (it’s called “prairie oysters”). You’ll either be horrified or delighted. I was both.
Small Town Greenfield, MO - 1880s Victorian Opera House & Town Square
Also, roll down your windows. The air smells like hay and freedom. You’ll hear a rooster. Or a tractor. Or a guy yelling at his dog. That’s the soundtrack.
