I instantly felt closer to my destination. Surely there was never another person so excited to cross the Ohio-Indiana border.
It all started on a trip to Cincinnati, Ohio. I was travelling to attend a seminar on software for my company. It worked out that I had a rental car and a free day to do as I pleased, so I looked over the map and had a crazy idea. Elkhart, Indiana, was within driving distance. Well, if you call 250 miles driving distance. It was most certainly closer than being in Oregon. I couldn't resist. The idea of visiting the "Mecca" of saxophone manufacture was an irresistable force. It was about noon, and I hopped in my rental car and headed north.
I went to a drugstore down the road from where I was staying and bought a small 35mm camera. This would be my documentation. I also wrote notes in my sketch pad to accompany the pictures. As I began the trip north out of Cincinnati, it started to rain. This was to foreshadow things to come.
The trip north took me past Dayton, home to many heartland companies and a few tall buildings. I was surprised that most of them seemed to be the same sand-colored hue of concrete. Against the bleak and grey sky, Dayton didn't seem too enticing. I continued north to where the cutoff to Indiana should be. The sky started getting darker.
Finally, the Indiana border!
I instantly felt closer to my destination. Surely there was never another person so excited to cross the Ohio-Indiana border.
Shortly after heading northwest, the sky began looking even more ominous. Dark, billowing clouds began to well up, and the rain started to fall even more fiercely. Next in the show was lightning. Everywhere. I sketched nervously in my book... "lightning. everywhere around me. rain is coming down really hard. Wow! I saw that one hit just over in that field!"
Instantly, rain began falling so hard that the visibility dropped to zero. The car in front of me disappeared leaving only a dense blanket of rain in front of my window. I pulled off the road onto a gravel drive immediately adjacent to a big farm. I decided that I should take a picture of the onslaught, so I rolled down the window and snapped a picture. 
In the 10 seconds it took me to snap the picture, the entire driver's side door and seat was soaked with water. Finally, it started to let up. The only problem now was time. I was now significantly later than I had hoped to be at that point. I pulled back on the road and continued northwest.
At last, I saw my first sign to Elkhart. Risking a traffic accident, I shot this picture while driving. Notice the menacing clouds looming in the background.
The trip north was much more uneventful. The rain started to subside and I could finally pay more attention to the scenery. As I got closer to Elkhart, I stopped in the small town of Legonier. I snapped a picture of what is unquestionably the ugliest fountain known to man. It is a giant, green, fungi-shaped monstrosity with a few feeble jets squirting from the top.
As I headed further north, I finally saw my destination! "Welcome to Elkhart" the sign proclaimed too quickly for me to snap a picture of. What I saw ahead was... McDonalds. Fast food, and gas stations. This was Elkhart?? I had envisioned old brick buildings. Thrift stores with Conn sopraninos hanging in the window had to be close at hand. Undaunted, I continued on the main strip which ran alongside a railroad track.
As I went further into the town, the "old" Elkhart began to reveal itself. An old water tower proclaimed the town name several stories high.
This was Elkhart. Old red brick buildings lined every corner, and train tracks meandered through the town. In my mind, those train cars were loaded with the next load of old Selmer Paris horns ready to be assembled and engraved. Surely my old Selmer Balanced Action rolled into town on these very tracks.
As I drove through the heart of old Elkhart, I realized that most every business in town was closed. Not only was it Saturday, but it was also after 5pm. My chances of touring the various musical instrument factories were slim. I didn't fret over this because it was thrill enough to be in the city. I drove up and down the one-way grid of the town many times trying to eyeball the various faded advertisements on the walls of old buildings. I was looking for the Buescher factory, or the old Conn factory; any factory. After a few trips driving the wrong way down one-way streets with the kind residents of Elkhart yelling at me from their porches I felt a little discouraged at the seeming lack of saxophone lore and headed out of town. With no warning, there it was!
The Selmer factory! I parked in the lot (despite the numerous warnings not to do so) and hopped out of my car. I immediately pulled out the camera and began taking pictures of its ivy-clad facade. With the faded company logo adorning the far side of the building, I truly felt the mystique of where I was at, and for the first time since entering the town, I knew this was where it all happened.
Risking the appearance of a burglar or some scrap-scrounging despot, I skittered around the circumference of the building. On the front of the building was a brass plaque and a flag. 
Inside the front window, I could see a display with some instruments, but sadly no saxophones. The doors were locked, and the plant was deserted. I walked around the back side of the building.
It certainly looked like I had imagined it. I breathed in the nostalgia and walked slowly back to my car.
I drove around the town a few more times and realized it was time to head back to Ohio. As the sun set, I pulled into the McDonald's parking lot and snapped the last photo of the trip.
I smiled for a second and thought "I'll be back." And I will.
-Jason DuMars