We were somewhere around Des Moines, on the edge of the cornfield, when the high fructose corn syrup began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bugs, all crashing into the car's windshield, which was going about 70 mph with the windows up to Chicago.

And a voice was screaming, “We can't stop here. This is corn country."

Autoweek Magazine — Seven & S7, in 7 parts: OneTwoThreeFourFiveSix, and Seven