Even in the corners of our state, hours from the nearest metro, highways stay busy with trucks, traffic and tractors. Which is why when something else takes over the shoulder, like a covered wagon, Iowans on their way to work will stop, stare and snap pictures of the two drivers – Tom Nass and Carlos Ford.The two chit-chat about snacks, crisscrossing a state they’ve only been in for a short time.“It's so clean,” Nass said. “The ditches. They're clean. You go through some states, and there's trash everywhere. Everywhere. You look here, and you don't even see any paper.”Ford is a southerner who had no plans to spend a day in Pocahontas County – or anywhere else they’ve seen at 3 1/2 miles an hour.“He told me he wanted to go on this ride, and he said, 'Hey, you want to go with me?' And I said, 'Why not?’ Ford said.The better question might actually be – why? Because crossing our state in a wagon, from Lamoni near the Missouri border all the way to Minnesota and beyond, takes weeks when you travel only 20 miles a day.The answer is up there over the horizon. Tom's mom, Ann Strand.Ninety years ago, she made this same trip, along this same route, with her parents, when she was only 3 years old.“They had no idea where they were going, except they were going north,” Nass said.Lamoni was too expensive for their family. They needed cheap land.“My grandfather had a 1927 Model T,” Nass said. “And he traded it for two mules and a wagon. He had $66 when they got ready to leave.”On a six-week trek to build a new life. Tom's heard stories it wasn't easy.“I mean, they endured storms, tornado, mules got away,” Nass said.But family legends sink in differently when you're the one stuck in a downpour.“It was pouring rain out,” Nass said. “We're in the tent. Just barely got in here before it started pouring.”Cruising main streets behind mules or rising with the sun to hitch up the team, just like those who came before did right here, with mules – 90 years ago.“This one is Gypsy, this one is Fancy. That one is Dolly,” Nass said.So every morning, from Mother's Day to the Fourth of July, they've started in a farmyard or a park, and held on. Because Gypsy, Fancy and Dolly want to go north – as badly as Tom does.Because the guy who just retired has a mom who turns 93 in a few weeks, and he's determined to pull into the birthday party up in Minnesota the same way she first got there – in a covered wagon.“And I'm at the point in my life where I've just put the brakes on,” Nass said. “So whatever happens, happens. If we're broke down someplace for two weeks, so be it. We're not on no schedule. If I don't get there by her birthday, she's just going to have to understand.”And it could take a while, because Tom doesn't know any strangers.“You know, if someone wants to stop and talk, I just stop,” he said.Along the way, they've met Iowans, soaked in their family stories, and experienced our state.“I've met so many nice people in this state,” Ford said. “From the time we got into this state, it's unbelievable how nice the people are.”“I mean, everybody has a story,” Nass said.Including him – the guy who's spending seven weeks in a wagon with his dog and a buddy – behind three mules – to better appreciate his mom."I think about her every day," Nass said.Three-and-a-half miles an hour is slow enough to meet hundreds of locals and share thousands of stories. While letting it sink in, the nearly 93-year-old waiting over that horizon wasn't just telling stories. She lived them.“Oh yeah,” Nass said. “What a journey they went through. I mean, not even knowing where they're going. They never been there.”And now her boy has lived them, too.More from the June 2023 Ths Is Iowa episode:This Is Iowa: The Big Game in Newton gives everyone a chance to shine This Is Iowa: The Jesse J Sanctuary is a place of peace for those dealing with cancerThis Is Iowa: Newton's prize pig Joy is the star of the show
POCAHONTAS COUNTY, Iowa — Even in the corners of our state, hours from the nearest metro, highways stay busy with trucks, traffic and tractors. Which is why when something else takes over the shoulder, like a covered wagon, Iowans on their way to work will stop, stare and snap pictures of the two drivers – Tom Nass and Carlos Ford.
The two chit-chat about snacks, crisscrossing a state they’ve only been in for a short time.
“It's so clean,” Nass said. “The ditches. They're clean. You go through some states, and there's trash everywhere. Everywhere. You look here, and you don't even see any paper.”
Ford is a southerner who had no plans to spend a day in Pocahontas County – or anywhere else they’ve seen at 3 1/2 miles an hour.
“He told me he wanted to go on this ride, and he said, 'Hey, you want to go with me?' And I said, 'Why not?’ Ford said.
The better question might actually be – why? Because crossing our state in a wagon, from Lamoni near the Missouri border all the way to Minnesota and beyond, takes weeks when you travel only 20 miles a day.
The answer is up there over the horizon. Tom's mom, Ann Strand.
Ninety years ago, she made this same trip, along this same route, with her parents, when she was only 3 years old.
“They had no idea where they were going, except they were going north,” Nass said.
Lamoni was too expensive for their family. They needed cheap land.
“My grandfather had a 1927 Model T,” Nass said. “And he traded it for two mules and a wagon. He had $66 when they got ready to leave.”
On a six-week trek to build a new life. Tom's heard stories it wasn't easy.
“I mean, they endured storms, tornado, mules got away,” Nass said.
But family legends sink in differently when you're the one stuck in a downpour.
“It was pouring rain out,” Nass said. “We're in the tent. Just barely got in here before it started pouring.”
Cruising main streets behind mules or rising with the sun to hitch up the team, just like those who came before did right here, with mules – 90 years ago.
“This one is Gypsy, this one is Fancy. That one is Dolly,” Nass said.
So every morning, from Mother's Day to the Fourth of July, they've started in a farmyard or a park, and held on. Because Gypsy, Fancy and Dolly want to go north – as badly as Tom does.
Because the guy who just retired has a mom who turns 93 in a few weeks, and he's determined to pull into the birthday party up in Minnesota the same way she first got there – in a covered wagon.
“And I'm at the point in my life where I've just put the brakes on,” Nass said. “So whatever happens, happens. If we're broke down someplace for two weeks, so be it. We're not on no schedule. If I don't get there by her birthday, she's just going to have to understand.”
And it could take a while, because Tom doesn't know any strangers.
“You know, if someone wants to stop and talk, I just stop,” he said.
Along the way, they've met Iowans, soaked in their family stories, and experienced our state.
“I've met so many nice people in this state,” Ford said. “From the time we got into this state, it's unbelievable how nice the people are.”
“I mean, everybody has a story,” Nass said.
Including him – the guy who's spending seven weeks in a wagon with his dog and a buddy – behind three mules – to better appreciate his mom.
"I think about her every day," Nass said.
Three-and-a-half miles an hour is slow enough to meet hundreds of locals and share thousands of stories. While letting it sink in, the nearly 93-year-old waiting over that horizon wasn't just telling stories. She lived them.
“Oh yeah,” Nass said. “What a journey they went through. I mean, not even knowing where they're going. They never been there.”
And now her boy has lived them, too.
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