I always wonder what it would be like to live in one of those towns, literally hours by car from the nearest larger town. Flying east after the fuel stop, the pace quickens on the radio. From southern California almost to Kansas City, you look down on few trees. At least there are no forests down there. To the people who live there, though, it's God's Country, and that is what counts.
Little towns are fun to examine from a light airplane.
There is no question that basketball is the biggest sport from Texas to Ohio because the gym is the largest building in town. Fly by a college town, and the football stadium dwarfs everything else. Where my little airplane looked substantial on the ramp at the small-town stop, it will be parked among the big airplanes belonging to the Captains of Industry if I select, say, Indianapolis for the next stop. More air traffic too, with the air traffic controllers busy getting all the airplanes in a line and feeding them to the runways. The accents of the air traffic controllers change as you fly across the country, but their excellent service does not change.