I woke up on a padded bench inside a metal van, my body stiff. Big Agnes, my sleeping pad, was deflated and crumbled on the floor next to an open bag of tortilla chips and empty plastic wine glasses. The rotary spew of coffee from the Keurig sounded like bliss. Kelly sat my cup on the edge of the narrow Formica counter, unzipped the door as quietly as she could, and stepped out to the gravel parking lot, Casey Jones Distillery. She set her mug on a moonshine barrel, stretched her arms to the clear blue sky, and groaned. Jill was in the back, curled up, still asleep after tripping over the exploded duffle bag on her early morning trip to the toilet. We were three middle-aged women traveling western Kentucky in a sprinter van, and this was day two of our “Common Wealth of Kentucky” tour.