Iowa 80 in Walcott, Iowa - not just a truck stop, but a trucker's mini-city. This place spans 55 acres with parking for 900 semis and once housed the world's largest trucking museum. They sell more beef jerky here than anywhere else in Iowa, which is saying something in cattle country.

Howdy, fellow road warriors! We're the Vagabond Couple and we're absolutely stoked to drag you along on our epic overlanding USA and Canada road trip. We kicked off from Germantown, Maryland on the Atlantic East Coast and aimed our sights on Jasper National Park, just shy of Canada's Pacific West Coast (map). This first leg was a proper two-day blitzkrieg across nine states: Maryland, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and South Dakota. We chewed through 1,400 miles faster than you can say "road trip playlist," swapping Interstates like trading cards: I-70 to I-80, then finally to I-90 as we pointed northwest.

Since we spent a lot of time toggling between these concrete ribbons, we put together a quick breakdown of the vibes for those of you planning your own overlanding sprint:

Feature	I-70 (The Mountain Climber)	I-80 (The Heartland Express)
Topography	Appalachian twists and West Virginia climbs.	Flat cornfields that look like a green ocean.
Trucker Presence	Moderate; mostly local and regional hauls.	Extreme; you'll be flanked by 18-wheelers for hours.
Best Distraction	Scenic mountain overlooks and deep valleys.	Megalopolis truck stops and giant roadside statues.

Germantown, Maryland to Peoria, Illinois: The Appalachian Warm-Up on Our Overlanding USA Canada Road Trip

We rolled our Ford SVT Raptor, which we affectionately call "Storm Trooper," out of Germantown at an hour so early even the birds were still hitting snooze. The truck was packed tighter than a clown car with snacks, actual paper maps (yes, we're those people) and enough playlists to get us to the moon and back. Our target for day one? Peoria, Illinois - the unofficial halfway point to South Dakota and home to more Caterpillar Inc. headquarters than you can shake a stick at.

The drive along I-70 and I-68 served as our scenic Appalachian appetizer. Winding through Cumberland, Maryland and Morgantown, West Virginia, these roads were carved through mountains older than dinosaurs. The Allegheny Mountains here are so ancient they make the Rockies look like overachieving teenagers. Deep Creek Lake along the way isn't just pretty - it's Maryland's largest freshwater lake and a sneaky great spot for smallmouth bass that most tourists blow right past.

West Virginia's stretch through the Allegheny Plateau is where the landscape gets serious about being rugged. Cheat Lake, that massive reservoir you'll spot, was created by a hydroelectric dam in the 1920s. The power company originally named it "Lake Lynn," but stubborn locals simply refused to use the corporate moniker. They won their war of attrition in 1976 when the U.S. Board of Geographic Names officially surrendered and renamed it Cheat Lake. Nearby, Coopers Rock State Forest is named for a fugitive cooper (barrel maker) who reportedly lived in a cave under the main overlook, surviving by trading handmade barrels for supplies left by sympathetic mountain dwellers.

The John & Annie Glenn Museum: Space Cadets and Small-Town Roots

The John & Annie Glenn Museum in New Concord, Ohio - where American heroes began. This unassuming house produced America's first man to orbit Earth and his fiercely private wife who overcame a stutter to become a communication disorders advocate. The 'loose' heat shield that terrified Mission Control was actually a faulty 'Segment 51' sensor. Glenn famously flew the re-entry manually, watching chunks of his flaming retrorocket pack fly past his window.

We pulled into New Concord, Ohio, population roughly 2,500, which somehow managed to produce one of America's most iconic astronauts. The John & Annie Glenn Museum sits in Glenn's actual childhood home, which feels about as likely as finding a spaceship in your grandma's garage.

What most people miss about Glenn's story is how close his Friendship 7 mission came to disaster. His heat shield was suspected to be loose, causing Mission Control to order him not to jettison his retrorocket package - a decision that likely saved his life. Annie Glenn, often overshadowed, battled a severe stutter for 50 years before treatment at 53, then became a powerful advocate. Theirs was a 73-year marriage that outlasted most space programs.

Leaving West Virginia's mountains behind felt like the Earth letting out a sigh. Ohio spread before us with rolling hills that gradually surrendered to farmland so flat you could watch your dog run away for three days.

Columbus buzzed by in a blur of interstate concrete. Dayton, just north of I-70, is aviation's holy ground. The Wright brothers didn't just invent flight here - they ran a bicycle shop that funded their experiments. Those bicycle mechanics eventually beat government-funded teams with budgets 100 times larger. Sometimes innovation wears grease-stained coveralls.

Driving through Ohio, we were reminded of a quirky piece of Americana about Dayton's own John H. Patterson, founder of National Cash Register. In the late 1800s, Patterson was so obsessed with employee health that he completely rebuilt his factory with massive floor-to-ceiling windows for natural light and actually mandated morning horseback riding and exercise breaks for his executives. It was corporate wellness before it was cool, or arguably, before it was annoying.

Greens Fork, Indiana rest area on I-70 - where America takes a collective bathroom break. These highway oases are modern-day watering holes, complete with vending machine coffee and questionable sofa fabrics. Indiana's rest areas were some of the first in the nation, dating back to the 1930s when road trips meant actually risking your life.

Indianapolis gave us a quick wave from Monument Circle, where the 284-foot Soldiers and Sailors Monument has been watching over the city since 1901. It's the nation's largest memorial built for veterans of any war, which feels appropriately Midwestern - go big or go home. To put that sheer scale into perspective, the towering limestone obelisk stands a mere 21 feet shorter than the Statue of Liberty. Atop the monument sits a 30-foot bronze statue named 'Victory,' though locals affectionately refer to her as Miss Indiana.

At Indianapolis, we kissed I-70 goodbye and hooked northwest on I-74 toward Iowa. The landscape flattened out like God had run a steamroller across Illinois. Endless cornfields stretched to horizons so distant they seemed theoretical. Some find this monotonous. We found it hypnotic - America's agricultural heartbeat thumping along to the rhythm of Storm Trooper's tires.

Mariachi Mexican Restaurant in Peoria, Illinois - where the Midwest meets molé. Finding authentic Mexican food this far from the border is like finding a snowball in Phoenix, but Peoria delivers. The Illinois River Valley has been a trade route for centuries, first for Native Americans, then French trappers, now for hungry roadtrippers.

Peoria greeted us with that special Midwestern brand of hospitality that makes you feel like you're coming home even when you're 700 miles from your actual home. The city sits on the Illinois River, which has been a commercial waterway since French explorers canoed it in the 1670s. These days, it's more about barges hauling grain than beaver pelts, but the river still knows how to move things.

Peoria was once the undisputed 'Whiskey Capital of the World,' housing 24 distilleries that produced more tax revenue for the federal government than any other district in the United States. While local lore frequently points to hidden whiskey tunnels beneath downtown, the verifiable reality is that the city's massive distilling infrastructure was so vital it was aggressively protected by the 'Whiskey Trust' - one of the first major corporate monopolies in American history.

Peoria, Illinois to Wall, South Dakota: Corn, Then Canyons on the Overlanding USA Canada Road Trip

Day two began with coffee strong enough to wake the dead and ambitions to match. We pointed Storm Trooper toward Iowa, Nebraska and ultimately South Dakota, ready to see just how much America we could swallow in one gulp.

Crossing the Mississippi: Davenport's Quad Cities Quirk

We merged onto I-80 at Davenport, Iowa, one of the Quad Cities that somehow involves six counties across two states. The Mississippi River here flows east to west - one of the few places in the country where it does so - and is over a mile wide, which explains why crossing it feels like a minor maritime adventure. Adding to the geographical confusion, the 'Quad' Cities actually consists of five main cities: Davenport and Bettendorf in Iowa, plus Moline, East Moline and Rock Island in Illinois. Davenport itself boasts more Victorian architecture per square block than most cities have Starbucks, courtesy of the 19th-century lumber barons who made fortunes here.

The Quad Cities metropolitan area includes Davenport and Bettendorf in Iowa, plus Moline and Rock Island in Illinois. Together they house half a million people who apparently can't decide which state they like better. During Prohibition, this area became a bootlegging hotspot - the Mississippi made for excellent rum-running logistics.

Iowa 80: Where Truck Stops Achieve Megalopolis Status

Just past Davenport lies Iowa 80 in Walcott, the truck stop that ate all other truck stops and asked for seconds. This 55-acre behemoth isn't a pit stop - it's a pilgrimage site for the trucking faithful. They have a chiropractor, a dentist, a movie theater showing free films and a massive trucking museum that houses over 100 rare, vintage rigs. This includes a 1911 Walker Electric truck, proving that long before modern EVs hit the market, delivery drivers were already experimenting with battery power.

The Iowa 80 Kitchen serves up over two million cups of coffee every single year. That level of intense caffeine consumption makes total sense when you realize the parking lot accommodates 900 tractor-trailers, 250 cars and 20 buses simultaneously. We strategically grabbed an early lunch to avoid the crushing midday rush at their famous 50-foot-long salad bar.

Inside Iowa 80 in Walcott - where you can get a haircut, see a movie and buy truck parts all before lunch. This place started in 1964 as a simple gas station and now covers 55 acres with its own post office. They serve 5,000 customers daily and once hosted a wedding in their trucking museum. Only in America.

Cedar Rapids rolled by to our north, home to the National Czech & Slovak Museum. After the devastating 2008 Cedar River flood submerged the galleries in eight feet of water, locals didn't just repair the 1,500-ton brick building - they lifted the entire structure up and rolled it three blocks to higher ground. Today, it celebrates Iowa's surprising Czech heritage with a resilience that proves you can't keep a good museum down.

Iowa Backroads: Where Red Barns Outnumber People

Iowa's backroads - where the corn grows so tall you could lose a child in it. These red barns aren't just picturesque; they're painted with iron oxide paint that's cheap, durable and kills fungi. Iowa produces more corn than most countries and you can smell it in the air during harvest season - sweet and earthy.

If you've ever wondered why the Midwest is dotted with those famously red barns, it isn't a stylistic choice - it's 19th-century thrifty chemistry. Early farmers mixed cheap, plentiful linseed oil with ferrous oxide (better known as rust) to create a protective sealant that naturally killed fungi and moss. The rust acted as an impenetrable armor against the harsh elements and the iconic Americana aesthetic was just a happy, cost-effective accident.

We detoured off I-80 onto Iowa's backroads, where the real magic happens. Those iconic red barns? They're painted with this above-mentioned iron oxide paint, which is cheap, durable and fungicidal. The round barns you'll spot occasionally were an early 1900s fad promoted by agricultural colleges - they're more efficient but harder to build. We passed Amish buggies moving at a pace that makes you reconsider the meaning of "urgent."

Detouring off the Interstate in Iowa often leads to unexpected historical treasures. Just a few miles from the endless corn rows sit the Amana Colonies, a group of seven villages established in 1855 by German Pietists. They lived a completely communal lifestyle until the 'Great Change' of 1932. Today, they are better known for their handcrafted furniture and robust smoked meats than their religious isolation, but the brick and stone architecture still feels wonderfully frozen in time.

Des Moines to Omaha: Urban Oases in Seas of Grain

Des Moines surprised us with its riverfront vibe courtesy of the Des Moines River, which flows 525 miles from Minnesota to the Mississippi. While the city's name literally translates to "of the monks" in French, historians largely agree it actually stems from a French corruption of the local Native American tribe's name, the Moingona. These days, it's better known for insurance companies than linguistic mysteries.

Omaha's skyline popped up like a mirage in the plains. We left I-80 here and headed northwest on I-29, following the Missouri River toward Sioux City. Omaha was once called the "Gate City of the West" and served as a jumping-off point for pioneers heading to Oregon and California. Today, it's better known for Warren Buffett and steaks.

Loveland Overlook: Missouri River Majesty

Loveland Overlook near Omaha - where the Missouri River reminds you who's boss. This 2,341-mile river drains roughly one-sixth of North America. The dramatic bluffs you see here aren't typical rock, but Loess - massive, windblown silt dunes created during the last Ice Age that only exist in such towering formations here and in China.

The Loveland Overlook gave us panoramic views of the Missouri River, which Lewis and Clark navigated in 1804 on their way to mapping the Louisiana Purchase. The river here is brown with sediment - they don't call it the "Big Muddy" for nothing. Those bluffs are Cretaceous-period seabeds, fossil-rich layers that whisper of ancient oceans where cornfields now stand.

Sioux City slid by on I-29, home to the Sergeant Floyd Monument honoring the only casualty of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Floyd died of a ruptured appendix in 1804, a condition that wouldn't be successfully treated for another century. His monument is a 100-foot sandstone obelisk that's essentially America's first road trip memorial. Interestingly, Floyd wasn't exactly allowed to rest in peace; his remains had to be rescued and relocated multiple times over the decades because the aggressive Missouri River kept eroding the bluff where he was originally buried.

Crossing into South Dakota felt like entering a different country. The land swelled into rolling hills that eventually give way to the Badlands. Sioux Falls, South Dakota's largest city, gets its name from the cascades of the Big Sioux River where quartzite rocks create natural waterfalls. The city was founded in 1856 by land speculators who probably never imagined it would one day have a falls park with an observation tower.

Wall, South Dakota: Kitschy Capital of the Plains

Wall Drug Store in Wall, South Dakota - where free ice water built an empire. Started during the Depression by giving away water to thirsty travelers, it now covers a city block and serves 20,000 visitors daily. The Hustead family still runs it, proving that sometimes the best business model is just being ridiculously nice to people.

The famous Wall Drug "free ice water" campaign didn't start with a marketing degree, but with a sleepless mother. On a sweltering July afternoon in 1936, Dorothy Hustead was trying to take a nap but was kept awake by the sound of jalopies rattling down nearby Route 16. Realizing those travelers must be boiling in their un-air-conditioned cars, she told her husband Ted to put up highway signs offering free ice water. By the time Ted returned from placing the very first signs, parched customers were already lining up at the soda fountain.

Wall Drug's marketing is so ubiquitous that travelers began making their own signs in the unlikeliest of places. During conflicts in the Middle East, soldiers painted makeshift directionals on base walls. One dedicated explorer even went so far as to pound a sign directly into the ice at the South Pole declaring 'Wall Drug, Free Ice Water, 9,333 Miles.'

While the free ice water put Wall Drug on the map, their marketing budget eventually ballooned to include a massive 80-foot roadside Brontosaurus. Built in the late 1960s by a local sculptor, the green concrete dinosaur has become almost as famous as the water itself. The beast acts as a brilliant piece of highway hypnosis. By the time you see a giant prehistoric reptile looming over the Interstate 90 horizon, you are already mentally pulling over for a 5-cent coffee and a donut.

Inside Wall Drug - where you can buy cowboy boots, homemade fudge and a mounted jackalope all in one stop. The store employs over 300 people during peak season and sells enough coffee to fill an Olympic swimming pool annually. Their marketing budget once exceeded their rent, proving that sometimes you have to spend money to make money.

Two days, nine states and 1,400 miles behind us, we collapsed in Wall ready to tackle the Badlands come morning. The drive from Maryland had been less a slog and more a cross-section of America on our overlanding USA Canada road trip - from Appalachian hollows to Corn Belt expanses to the wide-open spaces where the West truly begins.

Wall Rodeo Arena: Where Cowboys Still Matter

Wall Rodeo Arena in South Dakota - where cowboy hats outnumber baseball caps 10 to 1. This small-town arena hosts rodeos where the entry fees are low but the stakes feel life-or-death. Rodeo has been part of South Dakota life since the 1880s, when cowboys would compete during roundups to prove who was toughest.

We started our third morning at the Wall Rodeo Arena, where the smell of dirt, leather and livestock hangs in the air like perfume for the prairie-born. Rodeo in South Dakota isn't sport - it's survival skills with a scoring system. The events trace back to Mexican vaquero traditions mixed with cowboy work from the late 1800s cattle drives.

Wall's arena hosts events from May through September, drawing competitors from three states. The prize money wouldn't buy a new pickup, but the bragging rights are priceless. We watched barrel racers navigate the cloverleaf pattern at speeds that would get you ticketed in most towns.

Oil Change at M & M Sales: Maintaining the Beast

M&M Sales in Wall, South Dakota - where they know more about your truck than you do. Small-town mechanics are the unsung heroes of American road trips, fixing everything from flat tires to existential crises. Our Ford SVT Raptor, Storm Trooper, drank 7 quarts of oil and asked for more, like a thirsty cowboy after a long cattle drive.

Before hitting the Badlands, Storm Trooper demanded an oil change. M&M Sales in Wall handled our Raptor with the reverence due a mechanical pilgrim. Small-town garages like this are America's automotive first responders - they've seen everything from overheated minivans to vintage Cadillacs on their last legs.

Our Ford SVT Raptor, nicknamed Storm Trooper for its white paint and intimidating presence, guzzled 7 quarts of synthetic oil. The first-gen Raptor was Ford's answer to the question "What if a pickup truck could also be a trophy truck?" With its 6.2L V8 and Fox Racing shocks, it was basically a Baja racer with license plates.

If you're prepping for a similar long-haul trek, here is the baseline gear we never leave home without:

Item	Purpose	Vagabond Choice
Full-Size Spare	Because the highway doesn't care about your plans.	Matching rim/tire set.
Portable Air Compressor	Adjusting PSI for different terrains.	Heavy-duty 12V model.
Recovery Straps	Helping yourself (or a neighbor) out of the mud.	30ft Snatch Strap.
Paper Atlas	When the GPS decides to take a vacation.	Rand McNally Road Atlas.

In Big Sky Country & The Rockies: A Tri-State Adventure | Trans-America Series 1 Ep. 2, we dive into the Badlands' surreal landscapes, stare up at Mount Rushmore's stone presidents, circle the mysterious Devil's Tower, brave Yellowstone's geothermal wonders, explore Earthquake Lake's tragic history and conquer Glacier National Park's Going-to-the-Sun Road. Six days of jaw-dropping scenery await.

Keep the rubber side down and the adventure meter pegged, friends!