Tag Archives: travel

Tag Teaming, Ely Style

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Dear Readers,

You’ve chuckled over her comments. You were dazzled by her guest post when I was in the hospital. So, as a special treat, I thought I would team up with the girl who stole my heart for a post while we are together this weekend. That’s right: it’s the one…the only…TARA!!

Or maybe I’m the only one excited by this?

Whatever.

My spur-of-the-moment trip to Ely has, naturally, been nothing short of wonderful. It still amazes me how perfect we are together, and how everything just feels so right. It’s nice to experience a real relationship for a change. Maybe someday I’ll talk about the other crazies delve into my dating past.

Someday when I’ve knocked back a few and my inhibitions are looser.

Speaking of knocking back a few, we did just that last night. But instead of my usual play-by-play, I think I’ll turn the blog over to Tara for a bit. Take it away, lovergirl!

Wow, babe.  Good thing I’m not feeling any pressure…

So, yeah, the visit has been wonderful so far.  And I get where Mark is coming from when he talks about how things were with the crazies. Been there, done that myself and its so great being with someone that gets excited and appreciates all those little moments that make up the best weekend since the last time we were together.

After he posted yesterday, I hurried home from work so we could spend the afternoon [CENSORED] and relaxing. Two of my favorite pastimes.  :)  We then hurried down to Racks because it had been a whole 24 hours since we had consumed alcohol. A couple of friends joined us and since Mark had posted on FB that we were likely to get shmammered, rounds of chocolate cake shots were a must. Not surprising, we bar-hopped until a little before midnight and even stopped at the Hotel Nevada to blow some bucks at the Blackjack tables. Also not surprising, Bloody Marys were in order (and greatly enjoyed) early this morning.

OK, it’s me again. In all fairness, my Facebook post originally put the odds of getting intoxicated at 70%, but as the evening wore on it was clear that we were headed in that direction. (Relax, mom and dad – we were celebrating. More on that in a second. Plus, this is Ely. What else is one supposed to do in a small town on a Friday night?). You know, I often say that I’ve lived my life in reverse. Married my high school sweetheart at a young age, settled down, bought a house and had kids. It wasn’t until my divorce that I started actually going out and having fun. Luckily, Tara is all about having fun. So are her friends. Let’s just say at one point we were playing shuffleboard and they may have been lifting their shirts in order to distract me. Which, I might add, worked like a charm.

Typical Friday night scene in Ely, Nevada. These were chocolate cake shots. Yummy!

Tara’s got the coolest friends ever.

Today has been much mellower. We got up at an ungodly hour – 5:30, after going to bed a mere four hours earlier – because…umm, I have no idea WHY we were up so early! Care to field that one, babe?

Because beers and chocolate cake shots = HEADACHE & THIRSTY!!!  I got up intending to drink a gallon or two of water, pop some Excedrin, and crawl back into bed for some cuddle time. Remember when I asked if we were going back to sleep or if I should make coffee YOU were the one that said ‘coffee’?

Regardless of the reason, our eyes lit up when Mark suggested a Bloody Mary instead of coffee. Nothin’ like a little hair of the dog to make things all better. And honestly, it turned out to be a great morning. Not only do we share a love for great food and drink, we also get a bit spastic over good music. With our respective music libraries, we took turns listening to old classics and new favorites. While he was jamming to Survivor, Men at Work, and Flock of Seagulls in high school, little ten-year-old me was rockin’ out to Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, and Bob Seger. Many thanks to my mother for raising me right!

OK, first off, “Eye Of The Tiger” is the perfect rock anthem. Long live Survivor! Maybe my musical tastes in the eighties did leave something to be desired. But once the nineties rolled around, I got into all the cool bands!

Anyway, yes, this morning was pretty great. What I like best about this relationship – as Tara mentioned above – is how much we appreciate and enjoy the simple things in life. We both sort of spazz out over things that other people would take for granted. Like grilled cheese sandwiches, for instance. It brings us closer together. After our music and Bloody Marys, we headed into town for a stop at the All Aboard Inn, a bed and breakfast run by one of Tara’s friends. While this particular friend didn’t lift up her shirt, she did serve us a delicious breakfast – French toast for Tara, a carne asada breakfast burrito for me. Then we came home, watched a movie, and took a nap. Afterwards, we walked back into town with a loaf of bread to feed the ducks, grabbed a sandwich at the local drugstore, and ate that in the park. It was the perfect day to be out and about – sunny and 60 degrees – although a breeze did kick in while we were sitting at a picnic table, chilling us just a bit. We’re back at the house now for more movies and, well, we’d just like to enjoy each other’s company on my last night here. I’m heading back home tomorrow morning at 7 AM, and already feeling bummed over that.

But…

The reason we were celebrating last night? Tara has been applying for jobs in the Portland area, and there was one in particular she really wanted. They contacted her the other day, and she’s got a phone interview scheduled for Monday morning. They’ve already asked about her availability for an in-person interview. I was hesitant to mention any of this on the blog lest I jinx it, but Tara assured me it was okay. Neither of us is getting our hopes up, but if things do pan out, then she could be moving in with me very soon. At the least, I may get to see her for a couple of days again next week. Fingers, toes and all other appendages that can be crossed are officially crossed!

That’s all I’ve got. Any parting words, dear?

Yes, actually I do have some. I just want to take this opportunity to thank all your readers for their kind words and supportive comments over these last few months. You all have been wonderful and I love reading your comments. I look forward to the day when I’m moved, settled, and have a job that doesn’t send me all over this great state so that I can read more of your posts and start writing again myself. Just like blogging brought Mark and I together all those years ago, I suspect there will be more new friendships forged in the future. You guys are awesome.

May This Passion Never Fade

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So, I’m in Ely again. Surprised? I blame it all on my girlfriend. She’s too damn irresistible.

When we parted ways after her last visit, we weren’t sure when we’d see each other again. For once, we didn’t have any future visits planned – only because Tara is focused on moving out here there ASAP. Her job search has begun. Things could conceivably move fast, if everything falls into place. So there’d been talk of meeting up in Boise for a weekend, but that was it. And then, suddenly, opportunity presented itself. Her dad (who she is living with until she moves) was headed out of town for several days, and the kids are with their mother this week. The lure of four nights together in Ely proved impossible to resist, so we made plans for me to drive down on Wednesday. Even then, we were nearly thwarted by a snowstorm, a case of the stomach flu, and an appointment with the state of Washington regarding my unemployment. But everything always seems to work out perfectly for us, and all of those became non-issues; at 4:41 AM I pulled out of my condo complex and began the long trek to Ely. Just a little over twelve hours later I pulled up in front of Tara’s office and we embraced. It had been an excruciating eleven days apart.

Yes, I’m serious. And may this passion never fade.

The trip down was uneventful. Cold and windy, but not a cloud in the sky the entire 837 miles. There’s snow on the ground here, but not a ton. Still, more than I encountered in December. Go figure. The desert is quite beautiful in late winter, as a matter of fact, with the snow-covered mountains that stretch north to south nearly the entire length of northern Nevada, and acres of silver sagebrush dotting the plains. It got down to 12 degrees my first morning here, but warmed up to the mid-40s. Today it was 16, but on the way up to 60, with clear skies. I couldn’t ask for better weather.

Wednesday evening, Tara made me egg rolls and sesame noodles. It was a great meal after a long drive. Felt weird to be in her dad’s house – my last two trips here, I stayed at Tara’s, but her place is rented out now – although, weird in a good way. He’s got a real nice home. Thursday, Tara had to head into Wells on business, so I accompanied her. Wells is two hours away, and even though I’d spent the entire previous day in the car, this drive was pretty spectacular. Maybe it was the grazing antelope we spotted shortly after heading out. Or the detour down a dirt road. Let’s just say, great drive! After several hours in Wells, we drove to Elko, another hour away. There, we toured Lamoille Canyon, stopped for Bloody Marys and hush puppies at JJ’s in Spring Creek, visited with Tara’s aunt and uncle, and met up with her cousin and his family for dinner at a “sushi” place called Flying Fish. I use the term loosely because it’s not traditional sushi, but is still quite good. They have something like 30 different “long rolls” you can choose from; I opted for the Godzilla, consisting of shrimp, crab, scallops, avocado and eel sauce in a tempura batter. Sooo good. Add in the appetizers – inari, stuffed avocado, and lumpia – and we were pretty damn full. Afterwards, we made a quick stop at K-Mart (because Ely does not have any big box retail outlets and Tara has to take advantage whenever she’s in “the city” to stock up on necessities), and then made the 2.5-hour drive back home, chasing a brilliant full moon the entire way.

All in all, it’s been a very nice visit so far, and is only halfway done. The next couple of days shouldn’t be so hectic. Tara’s working until noon today, and then we’re going to relax the afternoon away before heading to Rack’s to meet up with some friends for drinks. Because in Ely on a Friday night, that’s what you do. Tomorrow we’ve got nothing planned other than breakfast in town and a walk to the duck pond. It sounds like a perfectly idyllic day to me. Sunday morning, I’ll head back home. Sadly, we lose an hour thanks to @#$&% Daylight Savings Time, which I already hate as it is. But, hey – what are you going to do? At least we’re enjoying a nice little bonus visit in the meantime!

Mountains south of Jackpot, Nevada.

My baby makin' me dinner!

Tara's dad's driveway. Not his sole method of transportation.

Lamoille Canyon, east of Elko.

*Smooch*

Stream running through Lamoille Canyon.

Godzilla Roll from Flying Fish Elko.

I Will Not Think of Buddy Holly

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Love makes you do crazy things.

Case in point: last night I booked airline reservations. I’ll be flying into Vegas on Christmas day to spend eight days with Tara. Big deal, you say? Trust me…it’s HUGE. When my sister-in-law, Esther, saw the post announcing this on Tara’s Facebook wall, she wrote:

“WAIT!! Did you say he’s FLYING into Vegas?????? FLYING??? You got him to FLY??! Now see…..that’s Love, he hates flying!! I’m so excited :))”

I rest my case.

I haven’t flown on a metal death trap…err, airplane…in more than ten years. We’re talking pre-9/11 here, folks. Back in the days when you didn’t have to remove your shoes and could carry liquids on board and people could meet you right at the gate. I might have actually had a box cutter or two in my carry-on, now that I think about it. And nobody batted an eye at the Guns & Ammo magazine I was reading during the flight. Times sure have changed, huh? How I long for those carefree, halcyon days of my youth…

Trying not to think about how much these things weigh... (Courtesy of ethix.org)

It’s not that I’m afraid of flying, per se. I have no problem with flying! It’s the falling-out-of-the-sky part that troubles me. As long as the plane is airborne, it’s actually pretty fun. Keeping it airborne, though – that’s the tricky thing, right? I wrote about it here a while ago. The mechanics of flight are just far too complex for a mere mortal such as myself to understand, or feel comfortable with. How much does an airplane weigh, anyway??

Err…right. These are the questions I’m not supposed to ponder. Especially once I reach the airport. Tara says all I need to do is have a couple of Bloody Marys before takeoff and I’ll be fine. I like this idea! I may have to order a couple more mid-flight, too. Just to be completely sure that my senses are dulled enough that I won’t panic over the thought that even clouds weren’t meant to float at 30,000′. As long as I grab an aisle seat for easy bathroom access, it’s a plan that’s just crazy enough to work.

I wasn’t always nervous about flying. I did a lot of it growing up; my first airplane flight took place when I wasn’t even a year old. I’ve flown through turbulence, thunderstorms, at night, alone…and I’ve always emerged on the tarmac of whichever destination just fine. As a kid, I loved flying! I always looked forward to the adventure. And then I became aware of my own mortality and it suddenly wasn’t quite as much fun anymore.

I have found that once you admit to being uncomfortable with flying, you have friends coming out of the woodwork to assure you how safe it is, comparatively speaking. They trot out statistics like crazy. One friend on Facebook said I was more likely to be killed by a donkey than in a plane crash, and when I questioned the validity of that statistic, another person sent me a link verifying it. I guess this information is meant to soothe me, but it’s not like I hang out around petting zoos very often either. You can bet your ass (pun intended) that the next time I do, though, I’ll have a few Bloody Marys in me. As well-intentioned as these folks are, all they’re doing is giving me a complex about even getting out of bed in the morning. Who knew that simply going about your daily routine could lead to DEATH?! I love my down comforter. Why should I leave its warm, cozy safety??

Who knew this cute little fella was such a dangerous beast?! (Courtesy of junglewalk.com)

(Right. Because my girlfriend doesn’t live here yet, and it’s not nearly as enjoyable an experience being alone in a bed. Fine! I’ll get on the damn airplane already!!).

The argument that really chaps my hide (or would if I were a cowboy) is the ol’ “it’s more dangerous driving in a car than flying in an airplane.” True though this statistic may be, it’s flawed. For one thing, there are a lot more automobiles on the road at any given moment than airplanes in the sky, so of course from a numbers standpoint this is so. And here’s the deal: if you’re involved in a car crash, a lot of times you can walk away without so much as a scrape. If a plane goes down, though, chances are there won’t be enough Band-Aids in the world to put you back together again in one piece.

I’m just sayin’…

It’s all a moot point, anyway. I am getting onto that airplane in December and I will fly to Nevada to be with Tara, and it’s got nothing to do with the fact that she is telling me to “man up already.” The idea of staying with her for an extended period over the holidays is much too enticing to pass up. I’ll get to meet her dad’s side of the family, her friends, her sisters…and just spend a whole lot of quality time together. It’ll be cold. It could very well snow. And it’ll be romantic as hell. Wild horses couldn’t hold me back.

Wild donkeys, on the other hand…

The 15th State

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I am getting my Griswold on…again!

This is, to put it mildly, a surprising turn of events. A few weeks ago, I never would have dreamed I’d be hitting the road again this year. Especially for such a compellingly unexpected reason.

It’s all about a girl, you see.

A girl whom I have known for nearly nine years. We first “met” in January, 2003 – a lifetime ago for both of us. Ahh, the wonderful world of blogging! Over the years we became friends. We got to know each other intimately – sharing our deepest secrets, our darkest desires. You can’t know somebody for so long without developing attachments to that person…it’s just not possible! I care about her deeply, and she feels the same way about me. You know what’s really cool? I’ve known her mom for just as long! In fact, her mother (Tracy) was one of the first people to subscribe to my blog, and has been a longtime supporter of mine. She was the first one to finish reading my book, No Time For Kings - and gave it a very positive review on Amazon. I count both Tara and her mom as close friends, and that’s gotta be pretty rare.

I first met Tara in person this past March. She has family in the area, and was in town for a visit. We went out to lunch, spent the afternoon deep in conversation, and then parted ways. I wondered if I’d ever see her again. I certainly didn’t expect to…when we said goodbye, I thought, well, that was fun! and what a great friend she is and too bad we can’t hang out together more. That alone would make a perfectly satisfying ending to many stories. Turns out it wasn’t our end, though.

Because there’s more to the story. That great friendship of ours? It’s evolving into something more. How much more remains to be seen. I’m trying not to think too much about anything (“trying” being the operative word here) because it’s scary…but scary in a good way, if that makes sense. All I know is, right now I feel pretty damn good. It’s been awhile, and I’d like to hold onto this feeling. It’s rather intoxicating.

I have to admit, I never saw this coming. And I still don’t know what is coming. Everything feels new and fresh, despite the fact that we’ve been in touch with one another for close to a decade.

So I’m rolling the dice and taking a trip to Ely, Nevada. Ely, of all places! I never thought I’d find myself in such an isolated, rural portion of the country. During my road trip this summer, I covered fourteen states. Nevada will be the 15th I’ve visited this year. I think that’s pretty amazing. And what a reason to go!

I’ve been warned that I might not have cell phone service in Ely. I pretty much had coverage everywhere I went in June and July, except for the remotest portions of the least-traveled highways in the most isolated portions of the great plains. Computer access is certainly not a given, so don’t expect a play-by-play like you had earlier this summer. I’ll try my best, but it’s quite possible I may be completely removed from civilization for the next five days, a fact that is hard for this very plugged-in 21st-century person to imagine. And when I do come back, will I be wearing a cowboy hat and boots and a newfound outlook on life?

I have no idea. All I know is, I’ve never done anything like this before. Tomorrow morning I am leaving very early – before the sun even rises – to drive 700+ miles to rural Nevada in order to spend a few days with a girl whom I am very fond of, but one who has never been more than a friend to me…until now. This feels like something out of a movie – a really cool romantic comedy. It’s all a great big gamble. One misstep, and our entire friendship could be in jeopardy, even though we swear to each other that no matter what, that won’t happen. I sure hope not. Tara’s very special to me, and the risk of losing that tight-knit bond is almost too much to bear.

But, the idea of not seeing this through…of missing out on something that could possibly be wonderful and amazing…is even harder to bear. Life is short, and happiness is difficult to come by. Trust me, I know.

So, let’s do this thing. I am all in…and excited to see what happens next. And you know what? This just feels right. I am amazed and comforted by that…and excited as hell.

Nevada, here I come!

Why I’ll Never Be A Trucker

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I’ve been back from my trip for a week now, and have had a surprisingly difficult time readjusting to a normal routine, both physically and mentally. After going for two weeks with little sleep, it seems my body has been overcompensating in that department. I find myself tired early, and sleeping soundly every night; last night I got about 9.5 hours(!), and this was after dozing off in my chair earlier in the evening. Not sure what’s up with that, but I decided I need some stimulation, as yesterday was the epitome of a lazy day spent doing nothing. I had planned on going for a hike today, but the weather was cool and wet, so I’m saving that for later in the week. I went to the movies instead – it’s $5 Tuesday, after all. My choice? Horrible Bosses, because I really like the cast (they’re all excellent: Jason Bateman, Charlie Day, Jason Sudeikis, Colin Farrell, Jamie Foxx, Kevin Spacey in his best role since American Beauty, Jennifer Aniston in her nakedest role since The Break-Up, and a couple of surprise cameos). And also, because I’ve had some horrible bosses. I had come across a scathing review in the local paper, but Rotten Tomatoes gave it a pretty good score, and it received an A- in Entertainment Weekly, so I decided to check it out…and I’m glad I did! It’s raunchy and crude (but not obnoxiously so) and riotously funny at times. I would say it’s probably the funniest movie I’ve seen since The Hangover (and similar in tone). Trust me, that’s high praise. Getting out seems to have done me some good, too: I feel much more energetic today.

I've had a few in my day! (Courtesy of stickerhunt.net).

I’ve also been missing the open road. For a few days I was thankful to be back home; everything felt new again. But then, pretty quickly, it felt old again, and I found myself longing for the excitement of traveling to new destinations and seeing new sights. I wrote that my trip cured the aching sense of wanderlust that had gripped my very soul, but maybe that was short-lived. I suspect the travel bug is more contagious than I assumed, for I began fantasizing about hopping in the car and doing it all over again…somewhere, anywhere. But of course, that can’t – and won’t – happen. Unless I become a truck driver, an idea that flittered briefly through my head last week. Driving an 18-wheeler, I thought, would give me the perfect opportunity to see the United States! But then I realized two drawbacks. First off, I would be on a tight schedule. Sure, I’d get to see a lot of the country, but always from the bed of my cab – I couldn’t just pull off into some random cornfield on a whim. Second, I would hate myself. Those damn semis irritated me to no end; they were constantly going too slow or, worse, pulling out right in front of me to pass another truck that was going too slow for their tastes. I cursed them repeatedly, admonishing them to “stay in their own damn lane” time and time again, or at least to wait until I passed to pull into the fast lane, but they never listened to me. Plus, truckers are a little scary. I’m much too clean-cut to fit in. So, no career in the long-haul trucking industry for me, apparently. I am, in the meantime, buckling down and trying my damnedest to find a job. And, this ennui – this desire to be on the move, exploring, driving, adventuring – appears to be on the wane, as well. I find myself eager to get out and see and do the things I love around Portland the most, rather than heading off into the great unknown. Today is the first time that I feel like “myself” since returning. This is a good thing!

It would never work out: I'd annoy myself to death. (Courtesy of hubpages.com)

I also inadvertently forgot to write about one of the highlights of my trip – meeting a fellow blogger and long-distance friend, Laurie, my first night in Dayton. I blame a crappy internet connection in which I was “stealing” wi-fi from the parking lot of Bob Evans in a hot car with rolled-up windows on a muggy evening as the sun went down – I was in such a hurry to write about my childhood home and elementary school, I never got a chance to mention our meeting. Better late than never, though! I have known Laurie for more than five years now; we used to write on the same online journaling site, and got to know each other through our posts. We have a lot in common: an Ohio connection, we’re the same age, both divorced, both parents, both Whose Line Is It Anyway? connoisseurs, and we’ve both had dating “adventures” that – trust me – you simply wouldn’t believe. Ahh, if I had the freedom to write about those…but, anyway. We’ve helped each other out through some difficult times, and pretty much know one another’s deepest, darkest secrets. I just always figured we’d be online friends but would probably never meet, since we were thousands of miles apart, but then suddenly there I was in Dayton, about an hour from her home in Columbus. How could we not?

My first evening there – Wednesday, June 29th – she and her son, Neil drove down to visit me at the Day’s Inn I’d checked into. It was hot, and the A/C in her car wasn’t working, so she practically collapsed into a chair next to the air-conditioner upon arriving, while her son entertained himself mostly by jumping up and down on the bed. There was nothing even remotely awkward about seeing her; we chatted easily, like two old friends, which is pretty much what we are. After awhile the three of us walked over to the Bob Evans next door for dinner (I got a chicken pot pie that was one of the highlights of my trip, and Laurie ordered breakfast), where the excellent conversation continued. We hung out for awhile longer back in the room, where Neil decided I was a pretty likable guy and stretched out beside me on one of the beds (mom was on the other) while listening to music on an iPod. It was getting late, so eventually I walked them out to their car and we said goodbye.

I wanted to mention all this because it is one of the most appealing aspects of blogging to me: the friendships that I have made over the years, beginning with nothing more than words on a computer screen and culminating in actual meetings in person. By and large, these people have become confidantes and – I am sure – lifelong friends. Monica in Sacramento, Tara from Nevada, Heidi from California, and now Laurie – I feel close to them all, and lucky to count them as friends. I never had lasting friendships as a child thanks to all the moving around, so these relationships are extra special to me, and I treasure them all.

And because I’m a perfectionist completist, I’ve added the Laurie story (ooh, it rhymes!) to my official Day 8 report from the road.

Getting My Griswold On – Day 14: Home!!

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Miles traveled today: 448.3
Total miles traveled: 5684.3

“I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.”
— Jack Kerouac (On the Road)

Thirteen days after setting out, during which time I traveled through fourteen states, experienced four time zones, and racked up more than 5600 miles, I returned home,  pulling into the driveway at almost 1:00 exactly. I opened the front door and was greeted by a very happy cat. I dropped to my knees and immediately began petting her, and marveled over the fact that I was in my very own townhouse again. My very first thought? How big this place is! Which is funny, because it isn’t, but after living in ten different motel rooms over the course of two weeks, the place looked huge. Oddly enough, there was no bed taking up the majority of the space, either. Even though I had the time of my life, and will forever consider this road trip an amazing adventure full of fun and discovery, it is always nice to come back home. You know the saying: be it ever so humble…

My last night on the road did not disappoint. Once the sun set and dusk settled in (10 PM this time of year in this part of the country), I grabbed my camera, hopped in the car, and drove down Vista Avenue in the direction of downtown Boise. I had scoped out Ann Morrison Park, site of the big fireworks extravaganza, earlier but it was closed to vehicles and elbow-to-elbow with people. They were still streaming in as the festivities were beginning. Rather than battle the crowds, I pulled over into a grocery store parking lot and watched the display from there. It was nothing short of spectacular, and I thought to myself, how fitting that the last day of this incredible road trip across America would end with a literal bang.

4th of July fireworks over Boise, ID.

It was an emotional moment for me. I had seen so much of this great country of ours over the past two weeks, you might say I fell in love with the U.S.A. all over again. I felt a swelling of patriotic pride as the fireworks rumbled and boomed over Boise and silently congratulated myself for accomplishing my dream of traveling across a great swath of America. It was a grand finale in more than one sense of the word.

Once the fireworks ended, I left the parking lot and drove the few miles back to my motel. On the way there, my car’s odometer rolled over to 100,000 miles. Wow! I have never owned a car longer than five years before, and the ol’ Hyundai Santa Fe is now nine years old. She’s been the most reliable and dependable car ever, and even though she struggled a bit in Wyoming, she found her mojo again today on the last leg of the trip and will, hopefully, continue to perform well for a while. As a reward for carrying me more than 5000 miles, I’m giving her a few days off this week. She has earned it.

When I got back to my room, I was excited because I knew after unwinding it was time for bed, and when I woke up, I would begin the final portion of my trip. I was more than ready to come home by then! My alarm was set for 6:00, but I woke up a little before that and got up. Took my last motel shower for awhile, packed up my stuff, checked out, and hit the road. While my drive through Idaho the day before was surprising because I’d been expecting trees but found desert, my drive through Oregon today was equally surprising because I’d been expecting desert but found trees. Ha…so much for my knowledge of geography! Seriously, everybody knows that Oregon (and Washington) are like two separate states: there is the wet side west of the Cascades (home!), and the dry side east of the Cascades. But I had never actually been to eastern Oregon before, and did not realize I’d cross two mountain ranges – the Wallowa and the Blue – before settling into the arid, flat portion. My drive was beautiful, all snow-capped peaks and forested hillsides and streams. I stopped at a rest area outside Baker City, and the air was actually chilly! I’ve been so used to opening my car door and being greeted by a blast of hot air, this was both a shock and a welcome relief. Alas, the landscape did change for the worse, but then it changed for the better again as I drove through the Dalles and entered the Columbia River Gorge. I was thrilled to see familiar sights again, and marveled anew over the lush, green beauty of this place I call home. And while I loved the thunderstorms I encountered on my trip, and miss the fireflies, and wish it would snow more than it does, I can say with certainty after my travels that I am living in the greatest place in the country. For me, at least. The Portland metropolitan area is, and always will be, my true home.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on my trip during the last few days of driving. Was it everything I’d hoped it would be when I first set out during what feels like a lifetime ago? The answer is an unequivocal yes. I had a fantastic time! Every day was an adventure, and the journey truly was just as much fun as the destination. The trip opened my eyes to different parts of the country, and allowed me to experience how others live across this great land of ours. The great plains and the midwest are so incredibly different than the Pacific northwest, and yet, charming and unique in their own way. I’d been feeling pretty insulated here in my little corner of America, and now I feel like the world is a much bigger place, wide open and full of possibility. I saw that firsthand. It was almost like I got to experience a different culture – one in which Sinclair gasoline stations and White Castle hamburger joints and row after row of cornfields dot the landscape; where the weather is often dramatic and intense; and the people – no matter how different their lives may be – are, at heart, really the same as me.

I realized, as well, the truth behind the saying “life goes on.” 25 years after leaving Rapid City, and 31 years after bidding farewell to Dayton, both places had changed some…but they also stayed remarkably the same. I found my childhood home, wearing new colors and sheltering a different family, but still standing, exactly where I had left it decades ago. Same goes for my elementary school and my high school. Growing up an Air Force brat is a transitory existence; everything seems fleeting and temporary. Retracing my footsteps was comforting in an odd sort of way I can’t really describe. It showed me there is permanence in the world, after all. My memories are more than just memories: they’re part of a bigger, ongoing reality. It was a fantastic experience to see these places again.

Best of all, I no longer feel like my life is boring or empty. I’ve seen a lot, and yet, I’ve barely scratched the surface. There’s a lot to see and do still, and while my wanderlust has been cured for now, I have no doubt there are future adventures just waiting for me to discover them.

But for now, I’m going to relax.

My car's odometer rolled over to 100,000 miles on July 4, 2011.

Mount Hood meant I was getting closer to home!

The familiar scenery of the Columbia Gorge served as a verdant reminder of why I love this part of the country so much.


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Getting My Griswold On – Day 13: Boise, ID

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14

Miles traveled today: 346.0
Total miles traveled: 5236.0

I Was Expecting Trees

I wasn’t in any particular hurry to leave Ogden this morning. Not because I was in love with the Utah town, pretty though it may be, but I knew I only had about a 4.5-hour drive to Boise and if I left too early, I’d arrive well before check-in time. I have a hard time parking my car full of all my stuff and leaving it unattended, though I had no choice back in Clear Lake, Iowa. Still, that was a soybean field off a gravel road a million miles from anywhere, and this is Boise, the biggest city in Idaho. So I “slept in” (a little bit past 7:00) and took my time getting ready. I pulled onto the interstate a little after 8:30, decided I’d kill some time by checking out the Great Salt Lake, pulled off the highway and got in line at a state park, saw the entrance fee was $10, did a u-turn and got back on the freeway. It just wouldn’t be worth the price for, what? Thirty minutes tops? Plus, the morning was overcast and humid, so it wasn’t the greatest photo opportunity anyway. I managed to snap a quick pic as I was flying down the interstate, though. At least I can say I saw it!

The lovely Wasatch Front receded and the landscape gave way to more gently rolling green hills as I crossed the Idaho state line. I passed through Coeur d’Alene, in the panhandle, on my way east eleven days ago and the beauty was stunning. I was expecting more of the same, but my route through the southern portion of the state was the complete opposite: the hills gave way to a dry, barren, featureless desert. And the sun came out. It wasn’t the most scenic stretch of highway, that’s for sure. Good thing I only had a short drive today! I could have gone farther and gotten closer to home, but I’ve always wanted to visit Boise, and wanted to be somewhere big for the 4th of July. Also, too often on this trip I’ve pulled off the freeway and checked myself into a motel room, only to stay there with nothing to do the rest of the evening. For my last afternoon and evening on the road, I wanted to get out and do some things. Boise did not disappoint. 

The city is, first of all, quite beautiful. Surprising, considering all that desert surrounding it. It’s like an oasis, and is both clean and modern while clinging to its historical roots. There are skyscrapers downtown, and an older historical district with period-looking buildings. After checking into my motel – yet another Super 8 (I have been pleased with my accommodations there, and find it’s a good value if you’re budget-conscious and not expecting The Ritz) – I drove downtown and parked in front of the State Capital building. It was sunny and hot, in the mid-90s, but by now I’ve become accustomed to the summertime heat. I’m not saying I’m a fan of it, but I can walk around in it without grumbling too loudly. Maybe that’s because I know there’s inevitably going to be an icy-cold room waiting for me when I’m finished?

Anyway. I admired the domed capital building, then walked through downtown Boise for a while. Because it’s the 4th of July, most of the businesses were either closed or closing early. Still, it was nice to see. Boise reminds me a little of Portland – it’s sort of a PG-rated smaller version of home. After exploring downtown, I hopped back in the car and drove to Boise Depot for a picturesque little stop with a stunning view of downtown and a very nice garden area with water. The train museum was closed, but there was a steam locomotive on display with interpretive information. When I was finished there, I stopped for an early dinner at Sizzler. I sort of thought they all went out of business, as the one near my house closed years ago. I haven’t been since I was a kid! I know Sizzler isn’t exactly the epitome of haute cuisine, but I wanted a steak on this trip, and while I envisioned a nice place in the midwest, that just didn’t work out. It was fitting that I had a good dinner on my last full day of traveling, anyway. I’m pleased to report that Sizzler is still good (and the salad bar still rocks). I returned to my room after dinner to cool off. There’s a big fireworks display in one of the downtown parks at 10:15 tonight, and I plan to drive around and find a decent spot to watch them once the sun sets.

Fun Things I’ll Miss About Motels

I can’t believe I’ve been on the road for thirteen days. When I was 11 years old I spent a few weeks that summer at my grandmother’s house in New Jersey, but other than that, this is the longest I have been away from home in my life. It feels like I’ve been gone forever. Naturally, I’ve gotten quite used to living out of motel rooms, and while the saying “there’s no place like home” is true, there are some things I’ll miss about the motel experience. Such as…

Fresh towels. Cleaned and neatly folded. By somebody else.

Not having to worry about making my bed every day.

“The Arc” shower curtain bar that makes your bath appear larger and keeps the curtain dry and mildew-free.

Fresh, free coffee every morning.

Tissues that disappear unobtrusively into the wall and are easily dispensed whenever you need them.

There are other things, like tiny bottles of shampoo and key cards that you swipe to open the door and ice buckets, that are fun but not necessary staples of life. How weird will it be to fumble around for keys again when I want in the front door?

A Few Random Observations from the Road

One thing I noticed out west – particularly once you hit Montana – is the abundance of motorcyclists who don’t wear helmets. Something about those wide open spaces apparently inspires them to believe they’re immune from having their brains splattered all over the asphalt. One glance at all the roadkill – and there was lots of it, everywhere (mainly deer and raccoons, but I even saw a badger and a porcupine) – should be enough to make them think twice about feeling the wind in their hair. Back home, helmets are the law, and you never see anybody riding without one. Once I hit the midwest, the helmets returned.

Box Elder water tower. Go, Patriots!

Practically every city in America of any substantial size whatsoever has a water tower with their name painted on the side. I saw this everywhere. Most are simple, a few, quite artistic. My favorite was this one in Box Elder, South Dakota. Probably because it’s right next to my old high school and gives a shout-out to my school team. Go, Patriots!

The more ambitious towns actually paint the first letter of their names on the side of the nearest hill. I first noticed this when I spotted a big white “L” while passing through Livingston, Montana. Maybe these places have visions of Hollywood-like grandeur?

Bugs are stupid for getting in the way of your windshield. When there are thousands of acres of corn for hundreds of miles in every direction, why do they choose to fly across the middle of the lone strip of freeway and end up smeared across your glass? The worst were the locusts in Missouri. They were big and, apparently, suicidal. Every stop for gas involved a corresponding squeegee wipe across the windshield. Five minutes later, it was dirty again.

The Home Stretch

This is it! My trip comes to an end tomorrow. As fun as it has been, I’m ready for home again. Two weeks is a long time to be gone. I miss my townhouse and my bed and my cat and my kids and I miss lazing around doing nothing if that’s what I feel like. Plus, it should be noted, I am sick of driving.

My next post will be from home!

That little bit of water is the Great Salt Lake, glimpsed as I was flying by at 75 mph.

I was expecting trees, but instead this is the view I had from my windshield for most of my drive through southern Idaho.

Boise, Idaho.

Historic downtown Boise.

Modern downtown Boise.

Boise Depot and Platt Gardens

Capital building - Boise, ID.

Getting My Griswold On – Day 12: Ogden, UT

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24

Miles traveled today: 554.9
Total miles traveled: 4890.0

We’re Not In Kansas Anymore. Wait, We Never Were…

If I had to pick a theme for this trip, it would be Crazy Weather. True, I had a four-day stretch where there was nothing but sunshine – but the other days more than made up for that. When I settled into my room in Sidney, Nebraska last night and discovered there was a Tornado Watch posted, I was surprised because the sky didn’t look very threatening at all. But then the clouds began to thicken, and the radar showed a line of severe thunderstorms bearing down on me. Sidney appeared to be exactly in the bulls-eye. My friend Steven, both an avid ghost hunter and storm chaser (the guy knows how to multitask!) kept me up to the minute with what was going on. Literally. He was following along from home, and even though he was more than 1000 miles away I think he was even more excited than I was! Fortunately, even though funnel clouds had been spotted with this cell, there was no tornado activity – just a whole lot of lightning, thunder, rain and wind. I took some video, and Steven extracted the best frame (and added a little shameless plug for his photography business, as well).

Lightning display over Sidney, Nebraska.

After 30 minutes the storm passed and the skies cleared. When I hit the road this morning, there was nothing but sunshine; you’d never know such an intense storm rolled through less than nine hours earlier. Such is life in this part of the country. I think I’m all done with the bad weather for the rest of my trip, but we’ll just see what Mother Nature has to say about that.

Crossing the Continental Divide. Twice.

I wanted to reward myself with one nice sit-down breakfast on this trip, so this morning I stopped at the Perkins across from my motel in Sidney. I like that most of my motels have offered free breakfasts, but the choices are slim and they all start to taste the same after awhile, so I enjoyed my eggs, bacon, biscuits and breakfast potatoes today. I had one of those perky older waitresses that calls everybody “hon.” I was feeling special for about two minutes, until I heard her call the old guy in the booth next to me “hon,” as well. Is that a prerequisite for working at a Perkins or Denny’s? Just curious. After breakfast, I hit the highway – it was shortly after 7:30 AM. Nine days ago, I spent about twenty minutes driving through Wyoming. Today, I was there for more like six hours. The flat prairie soon gave way to mountains – boy, was I glad to see those! – and then, desert. That surprised me…I didn’t know there was a desert in Wyoming. It all looked pretty arid and desolate. At one point I crossed the Continental Divide, and chastised myself for not being quick enough with my camera to snap a picture of the sign. Then, about thirty minutes later, I crossed the Continental Divide again. Not sure how that happened, but I again chastised myself, because I was no quicker on the draw the second time around.

My poor car did not appreciate today’s drive. Most of the time we were climbing steadily but gradually, and it protested over the long uphill grades. One sign I passed indicated the elevation was more than 8000 feet, remarkable considering I wasn’t even crossing a mountain at the time. I guess that’s why they call it the “high plains.” After my car continued to struggle, I hit upon the idea of switching into a lower gear on those long uphill climbs, and that did the trick. Duh! I’m not used to having to do any work driving an automatic. I also had to fill up for gas three times today; I’ve never had to stop more than twice before. I’m sure it was a combination of the steep roads and gusty winds.

Finally, mercifully, the road began descending, and soon I was in Utah.

Multiple Wives Are All The Rage

Most of the time, crossing into a new state yields no discernible difference. Indiana looks remarkably like Illinois, Ohio looks remarkably like Indiana, etc. But the moment I passed the Utah border, the landscape changed. The high desert of Wyoming gave way to steeper, greener mountains and canyons in Utah. I passed through the Wasatch Front mountain range, their peaks still dusted with snow, and gasped out loud, the scenery was so beautiful. Utah – at least this portion – is gorgeous! It’s also hot as blazes. The temperature when I arrived in Ogden was 99 degrees. Ouch.

My theory about motels seems to be proving true. The bigger the town, the crappier the budget motels are. The Super 8 I checked into is rather dingy on the inside, and my room has a funny smell. But…BUT…the view from my room is incredible, and makes up for it!

When I was in Rapid City over a week ago (!), I purchased a bottle of Cruzan rum so I could enjoy an occasional rum and Coke when settling into my room for the evening. After a long day of driving, it really hits the spot. But because I’m in Utah, I felt funny just carrying the bottle into the room, so I actually took pains to hide it in one of my bags. Sheesh. It’s not like people don’t drink in Utah! Still, I felt odd about it. Funny thing is, nobody would have batted an eye if I’d brought two women back to my room, I’ll bet. Multiple wives are all the rage here.

OK, I’ll knock it off with the Utah stereotypes.

By the way, I have gotten devoured by mosquitoes on this trip. I count a dozen bites on my left leg alone! There are more on my right leg, my arms, even my neck. They were attacking me like crazy the two nights I was standing outside watching the fireflies. They itch like mad, but the experience was totally worth it anyway.

Tomorrow I plan to stop in Boise, about five hours away, and spend my last evening on the road there. I’m looking forward to experiencing the 4th of July in a new city I’ve never been to. One reader commented that they’re sorry I won’t be home for the 4th, but I’m not. Had I arrived in the evening as originally planned, I would have been too tired to do anything but crash. This way, I’ll get to explore a new town and see how they celebrate the 4th. Considering it’ll be my last day before returning home, I should go out with a bang!

The Medicine Bow Mountains in Wyoming.

Wyoming's Red Desert. It's got everything a desert should have, except cacti.

Wyoming desert

Rock formations in the Red Desert.

A more pastoral Wyoming scene.

Descending through a canyon in the Wasatch Range, Utah. Beautiful!

Ogden Utah

My motel may be only halfway decent, but check out the view from my room!

Getting My Griswold On – Day 11: Sidney, NE

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15

Miles traveled today: 607.9
Total miles traveled: 4335.1

Missed the Bullet Hole. Damn.

I have to give props to the Super 8 in Cameron, MO: nicest motel on this trip so far. The king-sized bed was plush, the air-conditioning icy cold and refreshing, the wireless internet worked without a hiccup, and the coffee was superb. Oddly enough, I’ve noticed that with the budget motels, the nicer ones are usually found in smaller towns along the interstate, whereas the inner-city ones often leave much to be desired. I guess it’s all about presentation – when you’ve been driving on the road for hours and you’re considering your overnight choices, you’re going to want a motel that looks decent from the outside, at least. I enjoyed my brief stay there, and I slept like a rock. Got about 7.5 hours, by far the most for any night since I’ve been gone.

I took my time this morning. I was planning on a rendezvous in Lincoln, Nebraska that could not occur until 10:30 at the earliest. Since it was about a 2.5-hour drive, I didn’t leave my motel until 8:10. That turned out to be a big mistake – more on that in a minute.

My friend Mike, who actually lived in northern Missouri for four years (who knew?), told me that St. Joseph was worth a short detour because of “the Jesse James and Pony Express stuff.” I guess I’m not up on my history of the old west, because I had no idea what he was talking about until I googled it. Turns out the house Jesse James was shot in has been preserved and turned into a museum – cool! The actual hole from the bullet that killed him can be seen on one of the walls. Or could be seen, if the museum had been open, but it didn’t open for another 90 minutes or so and I had a pressing engagement in Lincoln. I walked around the outside, taking a few pictures, and then drove a couple of blocks to the National Pony Express Memorial. It’s the site of the first Pony Express mail delivery service in 1860. I was actually impressed with St. Joseph – the downtown looked very historic, with lots of fashionable old brick buildings – so I can’t say I was completely turned off by Missouri.

Water, Water Everywhere

I’ve mentioned all the high water and flooding I’ve encountered during this trip. It’s been everywhere: lakes, rivers, fields, streams, etc. Still, I was caught off guard while speeding north on Interstate 29 when I spotted water from a flooded field practically lapping at the side of the road. And then I glanced to the left, and saw an incredible sight. Miles and miles of flooded farmland. Houses, barns, and grain silos were all underwater, thanks to the raging and swollen Missouri River. I took as many photos as I could while racing down a highway with the windows open. And then, I spotted a detour sign. It turned out that I-29 was closed due to flooding. I was forced to exit the freeway and ended up on a major detour through the Missouri countryside. Missouri gave way to Iowa – I wasn’t even supposed to be back in Iowa on the return leg of this trip! – and the minutes ticked away. I was afraid I would miss my lunch date in Lincoln, but fortunately the detour finally took me back to a section of I-29 that was open. I then crossed the troublesome Missouri River on Interstate 80 West, through Omaha. Lincoln was dead ahead. I was two hours behind schedule, but better late than never!

I Didn’t Know Chickens Had Fingers!

Before I set out on my journey, there were two regional fast-food establishments I wanted to try: White Castle and Raising Cane’s. Everybody knows White Castle, but I had never heard of Raising Cane’s until reading about it through a friend’s blog. She was always raving over their chicken and, especially, the Cane’s Sauce. Raising Cane’s is just as elusive to find as White Castle – I mapped them out, and there were only two possible locations along my entire route: Lincoln, Nebraska or Fort Collins, Colorado. The timing worked out so that I would pass through Lincoln right after they opened for an early lunch. Then, of course, the damn river went and flooded. Turned out to be nearly 1:00 before I got there, but that’s the prime lunch hour anyway. I ordered “The Box” combo and ate it in my car.

Raising Cane’s serves one thing only: chicken fingers. And I have to say, their chicken fingers are awesome. Crispy on the outside, moist and juicy inside. And sure enough, their Cane’s Sauce – used for dipping – elevates them to incredible status. I was trying to figure out what’s in the sauce. It’s the color of Thousand Island, so there’s probably ketchup and mayo. And it’s got hints of vinegar, dill, allspice and coriander. Whatever, it’s awesome. My meal came with cole slaw, fries, Texas Toast and a drink. Even though downtown Lincoln turned out to be a bit of a detour, it was worth it for the opportunity to try this place I’d been curious about.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Parsley.”

About an hour west of Lincoln, the sky grew gunmetal gray and ominous. I’ve already come to associate that with impending thunderstorms, and sure enough, I encountered those again while driving down I-80. It rained for awhile, and I was treated to some spectacular lightning displays, and then the storms passed and the sun came out again.

I ended up pulling off the freeway in Sidney, Nebraska. Ode to my cat! LOL. Cheyenne was still another 100 miles away, and I beat my record for most miles traveled today. I was in no mood to continue. Because of the detours, I am well behind schedule now and won’t make it home on July 4th as planned, but my parents have agreed to watch the kids on Tuesday so I’m not concerned about it. I should arrive home late in the day on the 5th.

In Sidney, I finally found a Motel 6! Actually, I tried the Days Inn first, but they wanted $97 for a room. Considering I just paid $39 at the Days Inn in Dayton, I felt this was outrageous and walked out. There was a Motel 6 right next door, and they’re charging $69. Still a bit pricey, but what are you going to do? As I was checking in, the clerk took my driver’s license and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Parsley.” I was shocked. My last name is Russian for parsley…but nobody knows that. It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever gotten that. The clerk laughed and remarked how funny it was that I had to travel all the way to Nebraska for somebody to know the meaning of my name.

The Motel 6 is actually pretty nice, and – surprise! – it’s got a laundry room. I had to shovel about fifty bucks in quarters into the machines for detergent, a washer, and then a dryer, but it’ll be worth it to finally have fresh, clean clothes! If I survive the night, that is. Turns out there’s a Tornado Watch in effect for this area until 10 PM. It’s sunny right now – and very windy (gotta love the northern plains!) – and it smells like cow manure. We’ve got some thunderheads building up to the northwest, it looks like. We’ll see what happens.

Tomorrow? I’m pointing my car in the direction of Salt Lake City and seeing how far I get.

The house where Jesse James was shot and killed - St. Joseph, MO.

Pony Express Memorial in St. Joseph, MO.

Missouri

Downtown St. Joseph from my car window.

This is where Interstate 29 in Missouri was closed due to flooding. You can see water encroaching on the freeway on the right side of the photo.

Flooded home along the Missouri River.

Missouri River flooding.

Missouri River, flooding

Yikes. This is not good.

chicken fingers

Raising Cane's does one thing, and they do it really well: chicken fingers. Wish we had this chain back home!

LIncoln, Nebraska

Weirdest thing about Nebraska: their stoplights are all sideways!

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Getting My Griswold On – Day 10: Cameron, MO

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6

Miles traveled today: 603.4
Total miles traveled: 3727.2

State of Misery…err, Missouri

Today was tough. For two reasons: I had to say goodbye to Ohio, and I logged more miles – and driving time – than any other day so far. In fact, I passed through four different states over the course of about 9.5 hours. Sadly, the one I stopped in is Missouri. Not that I have anything against the Show Me State. It’s just that I’ve traveled across most of the northern portion and so far, what it’s shown me isn’t all that impressive. Plus, it’s hot. Oppressively so. And the sky is hazy. Let’s just say I miss the mountains, and am looking forward to seeing them again either late tomorrow or Sunday.

I pulled out of Dayton a little bit after 7:00 this morning. The sky was clear, and it was weird to have the morning sun shining on the back of my car instead of the front. Proof that I’m headed west now, in the direction of home. Soon, the clouds thickened and grew ominous, and by the time I reached Indianapolis I was pretty sure I was in for a rough patch of weather. Sure enough, I encountered thunderstorms through western Indiana and eastern Illinois. Nothing severe like the ones I experienced in Rapid City, but they put on quite a lightning show which made for a fun drive. As long as it doesn’t hail on my car, I’m happy. The rain was a blessing.

After about an hour, as I neared Champaign, the clouds began to break up, and the rest of the drive was sunny, humid and uneventful. I drove through Springfield, IL and saw signs for the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum. That would be cool to check out, but I’ve got a lot of ground to cover these next few days and not as much time for sightseeing as I did on the drive east. Good thing there aren’t any SPAM museums or airplane crash sites along the way. At least, not that I’m aware of, although a friend tells me there’s some cool Jesse James stuff in St. Joseph (my intended destination today, but I pulled up about 30 miles short, figuring I’d had enough of the car and the heat and hoping that a motel room in a smaller town would be less expensive; the Super 8 here in Cameron cost me $51, a figure I’m happy with) that I may have to check out tomorrow. One of the things I’ve most enjoyed about this trip is the freedom to stop and explore as I saw fit, and I might as well squeeze every last drop of fun out of these last few days. I may be headed home, but my road trip isn’t over yet.

Speaking of Home…

During today’s long drive, I was fantasizing about being home. All I could think about was my soft leather recliner and my plush bed and how nice it would be to relax in the evening with a cool drink and a favorite television show. That seems so novel now! I’ve been on the go nonstop for 10 days and counting. The trip has been wonderful, but I’m starting to get a little homesick, I guess. Plus, I miss my cat.

Oh, and my kids, too. Right.

I look forward to a few days of lazing around when I get back.

Good News: July Milk is Looking Strong!

I’ve been listening to CDs pretty much the entire trip. Every time I eject one, the default radio station – 94.7 (Portland’s KNRK – alternative rock) comes on. Most of the time there’s nothing but static coming through my speakers while I dig out a new CD, but the other day a local Iowa station was coming in loud and clear. They were playing classic rock, so I left it there for a few minutes. When the song ended, the female DJ came on and started talking about the stock market. I don’t mean the Dow Jones…she was going on and on about the LIVESTOCK market. Talking about how much cattle and pigs were fetching, and how June milk was down a nickel but July milk was projected to be up 8%. I listened for awhile, enchanted. There is nothing like a livestock report to remind you that unless you’re from the midwest, it’s a different world out there.

By the way, I ran out of clean clothes a few days ago. I’d been intending to do laundry in Dayton, but of course the Days Inn did not have a laundry facility. Every other motel I’ve stayed in has had one…figures. I’m okay on shorts (I brought three pairs) and shirts (having picked up several at Crazy Horse, Mount Rushmore, etc.) but my socks and boxer shorts ran out. I figured I could go commando and wear sandals until I find a motel that has a laundry room, but I ended up stopping at a Kohl’s in Fairborn yesterday for some new boxers. The Super 8 in Cameron doesn’t have a laundry room either, so that is looking like it was a smart move.

Not a lot of pictures today…let’s see, I’ve got one of my motel room here. There was nothing else worth taking today, save for the lightning, but I was too busy driving. I’ll include a few pictures from Ohio that didn’t make it into the blog originally.

Lovely Cameron, Missouri.

For a brief while, before transistor radios came along, radio bikes were all the rage. From the Bicycle Museum at Historical Carillon Park, Dayton.

Antique cars and old-fashioned Sunoco filling station, Carillon Park.

Another view of my childhood home. We lived on the left side of the duplex, if you hadn't guessed already.

A reminder that I was technically trespassing in my old neighborhood. Oops.

A thriving business in Fairborn, Ohio. Hopefully not TOO thriving.

Fountain in the Miami River, downtown Dayton.