Knoxville Raceway, Knoxville, Iowa

The sharp smell of gasoline and a sound like rumbling thunder fill the air.

It is a Saturday night at Iowa’s Knoxville Raceway and everyone is either in the stands or listening as the race’s soundtrack echoes across the small town. Sprint cars race by, one after another.

“Anyone who lives here knows that the track was here first,” said Lori DeMoss, a resident of the city of Knoxville.  “So when it’s loud on the weekends, you just accept it because it is a way of life around here.”

The racetrack can hold up to 24,000 spectators despite Knoxville’s population of only 7,536. Visitors come from as far away as Australia. Because the small town does not have enough hotels and campgrounds for all of the visitors, the Knoxville Chamber of Commerce initiated a housing program. The chamber compiled a list of residents that were willing to host families during the races. Some people host families for a fee, and some end up housing visitors for free.

“You end up making friends with the people that you host and they end up returning year after year to stay with you,” DeMoss said. “Knoxville has proved that not only are they all about the races, but they are all about the friends and people.”

Le Bourgeois Wine Garden, Rocheport, Missouri

        Storms threaten the Missouri river valley. Still, for Beverly and Larry Lamb, it is a perfect time to find a little relaxation with a glass of wine. It is Larry’s birthday, and the couple is enjoying one of the best views of the landscape in central Missouri.

Although weekends find a crowd of people at Les Bourgeois wine garden, they’ve got the place almost to themselves.

Les Bourgeois’ wine garden consists of an old-fashioned A-frame building with the roof stretching nearly to the ground and picnic tables on a scenic bluff overlooking the Missouri River and the Katy Trail. However, it is not the only reason to come to the countryside between Columbia, Mo., and tiny Rocheport, Mo. Les Bourgeois is more than the wine garden and the restaurant. It is also a winery, which is open for tours and wine tastings. It is the third-largest of the 56 wineries in the state, producing 90,000 gallons of wine each year.

As visitors walk through the winery door, the intoxicating aromas of wine fill the air, sweet and fruity. A cat that lives in the winery slinks between the tanks and laps up water from a puddle, a result of the heavy rains of the day. The sounds of the machines pumping and clicking are a slow background rhythm – but soon, harvest will be in full swing.

Take a wedding, for example. It’s a great place to meet new people – for business purposes, of course.

Social events are a great place to network.

Today’s young professionals rely on networking. In fact, 85 percent of job-seekers’ success comes from networking, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. With formal weddings and social affairs, known as black- or white-tie, coming back into style, it is important to be conscious of what the opportunity entails.

If you’re traveling to such an affair, you’d better be ready so as to not embarrass yourself.

Like many other girls born in the era of Disney-style fairy tales, I have longed for my chance to be the belle of the ball. So, when asked to be a date to a black-tie reception, I realized that not only did I have a chance to dress up, but also to meet some influential people.

Chester Ray Stadium, Brookfield, Missouri

Nell White sits on the wooden bleachers at Chester Ray Stadium in the middle of the Brookfield faithful. Kickoff for the annual Bell Game rivalry between Brookfield High School and Marceline High School is still two hours away, but White is anxious. 

“I am sick to my stomach,” she said. “The Bell means a whole lot.”

She wears a blue T-shirt with “Brookfield High School” written in white letters. White also has two photo buttons pinned to her shirt. One is a picture of her daughter, Bulldogs cheerleader Tiffany White, and the other photo is of her son, Brookfield running back Dustin White.  

Dustin, a key contributor for the Bulldogs in their 14-13 Bell Game win in 2005, has looked forward to the contest since football camp started in the summer. 
Throughout the entire week, the White household has been preparing for the Bell Game – an annual maelstrom of football and tradition that feels like Homecoming and a state championship game all rolled into one.

Ron Trompke didn’t believe his wife, Kathy, when she told him about the 15-foot Superman statue in downtown Metropolis, Ill.
When the couple decided to road trip across the United States, they found the statue and the town along the way to their final destination in Virginia.
The Trompkes, full-time RVers from Fair Grove, Mo., had grown up watching Christopher Reeve as Superman in the movies. The Superman statue stands guard in front of the courthouse overlooking the main street. The Trompkes, posing like perfect tourists, snapped some photos before moving over to the Superman cutouts.
Many people visit Metropolis, the only town in the United States that bears the same name of Superman’s city, to honor the superhero they grew up watching.                                    “do y’all know you’re the home of superman?”
Superman inhabited the pages of DC comics for 39 years before Metropolis, Ill., became associated with the Man of Steel.
Kentucky-born Bob Westerfield moved to Metropolis in 1972, noted the name of the town and asked, “Do y’all know you’re the home of Superman?” Becky Lambert, a real estate agent in Metropolis, said Westerfield was the one who pushed to have the town recognized as Superman’s official hometown.
“It took an outsider to come into Metropolis to go, ‘You’re missing the boat here, people,’” she said.

Photos by Ashley Richards

   People searching for bargains and eclectic collectibles can probably find them at the Westport Flea Market and Bar and Grill. With more than 30 booths to search, treasure hunters can find anything from cowboy boots to glassware. But the most talked-about find is also the easiest: The restaurant sits right in the center of the Westport, Mo., establishment.
“They have the best burgers,” John Shaughnessy declared from his perch at the bar.
And he should know – his relationship with the Westport Flea Market extends back 15 years.                     “There’s a lot of regular clients,” he remarked. “Not just regulars who hang out at the bar, but [regulars] who come here for lunches, [and] businesses come here, plus it’s a neighborhood bar.”
Shaughnessy reflected on why the Flea, as many call it, is so successful at creating return customers.
“It’s not pretentious like some of the other bars in Westport,” he said after a pause. “Look at the people. You’ve got a family there, and there old people, young people,” he noted, pointing around him at the nearly full restaurant.

Upper Limits Rock Gym, Bloomington, Illinois

Kate Ewing couldn’t stop to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. She was hanging by her fingertips on a vertical face nearly 65 feet above the ground.
No problem.

Ewing caught the rock-climbing bug on a mission trip to Morocco. Then a friend took her to the Upper Limits Rock Gym in Bloomington, Ill. – and she was hooked.
The gym, a converted grain silo, boasts some of the tallest climbs in the nation. The cylindrical inner walls, once buried in grain, are now spotted with multi-colored handholds.  

“I remember that first night – by the end of the night my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t even hold onto the wall,” she said. “I couldn’t grip the holds. It was like my mind wanted to keep climbing, but my body couldn’t.”

Since that day five years ago, she’s been back to the gym nearly 400 times.

“I just kind of kept climbing,” she said. “People come and go, but there seem to be the standard gym rats that are always there.

“The nice part about good climbers is the really good ones and the really passionate ones love to teach people how to climb. They’re really patient with you. They welcome you in.”

I figure our band got its start the way most bands do. 

One of my roommates had his guitar out, and the rest of us filed into his room demanding a live show. He played every song we requested – for more than an hour.

Jon kept interrupting Scott’s musicianship by reminding us all that he used to have a bass guitar in high school. 

“It was brown — no!  It was cream. With a fret board like Scott’s. My bass, that is.”

I scoffed, not only because Jon seemed to be lying, but because I spent years preparing myself for this type of bragging. I’ve mastered two legendary instruments of rock.

The piano and the trombone.

The only logical thing to do now was to form a group.

“I’ll just be the manager,” the last guy, Chad, decided. He only played the trumpet. In seventh grade. The rest of us would be music gods.

As a new and momentarily unknown band, though, we’d first have to get ourselves heard. And the best way to do that?

Hit the road.