We got up early Friday morning, 5 am, which was not as difficult as it is when I have to get up that early for work. For some reason, getting up at 5 am to drive a pickup truck all day is pretty much like getting up at 5 am to drive a pickup truck all day. Getting up at 5 am to go to work is like coming out of deep sedation after major surgery. In other words, You're groggy, in pain, grouchy, hate life and want some form of drug to help you forget the world sucks. (The drug I refer to is of course, caffeine....)
On to the events of the day. We arose, checked out and hit the road shortly before dawn. We stopped at a Cracker Barrel restaurant (these things are everywhere, except when you want one, that is) and loaded up on cholesterol.
But it was sooo good... Eggs over medium, country ham, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, and of course, Coffee, served hot and hot. Jack Aubrey would have approved, but my doctor wouldn't.
I was surprised when I read the paper, that the top local story was about how parents were upset with the local teachers who were on strike. At first glance it wasn't surprising; I'd be ticked off if my kids were getting the shaft on education, but that wasn't why they were upset. They were upset because the teachers were also the, get this football coaches and their kids were not going to get to play high school football and would lose out on the college athletic scholarships... Forget education, forget preparing then next generation to take their place in the workforce, all we care about is getting them onto the football field so we can live vicariously through them, and hope they can get a athletic scholarship, join a frathouse and drink themselves into dropping out their sophomore year... Ah, sorry, I'm generalizing, and I digress. I just think there were some priorities that were severely misplaced here. I think the purpose of schools outght to be to teach people to think, not play sports. I guess I'm old fashioned.
We continued on the road through Illinois, and turned onto I-70 toward Indianapolis. Stopped for lunch there at another, yes, Cracker Barrel. I forget what I had, but I'll say this last thing about these restaurants. They've got a great concept - a chain that brings people in for food, and also sells some useful items for travellers. For example, they have books on tape that are rented and can be returned at another store on down the road. They also have travel pillows filled with buckwheat hulls - I bought one a few days before the trip and it makes taking a nap so much better. I'm sure it added a couple of hundred miles to our daily travel range.
We continued north on I-69, passing through Fort Wayne and Terre Haute, which I think means "High Land" But it didn't seem that high, the GPS showed only a couple hundred feet above sea level. I guess it's relative. We left Indiana and entered Michigan about 3pm, turning East on to I-94 where we immediately fell into a pothole the size of a van. Well, okay, I exaggerate. But the road immediately got rough. It was by far the worse interstate highway I've been on in years. At first I thought it was the fact they they get snow up here, and that is hard on the highways. But there was something more to it and it took me a few hours to realize it. That and Jim's perception. He pointed out that the fuel tanker trucks in Michigan have five sets of wheels on their trailers. The fuel tanks are probably 1/3 larger than the ones you see elsewhere. Apparently, in Michigan, they have higher weight limits on trucks, and consequently the roads get torn up much faster. There seems to be some sort of tax loop hole that allows them to skate on paying for the extra weight also. The preponderance of fuel trucks didn't seem to keep the gas prices down, that was for sure. As we headed north, the price of gasoline steadily rose from $1.55/gal to a high of $1.79/gal... Ouch.
We passed Ann Arbor and headed north to Bloomfield Hills northwest of Detroit. There are lots of car dealerships in this area. More than I've ever seen before. I know Detroit is the motor city, so the abundance of Ford, GM and Chrysler dealership is expected, but the number of import dealerships was high as well. We saw lots of people (probably GM executives) driving Lexus and Mercedes.
We made it to our destination about an hour before dark, and conducted our business with the seller. I did paperwork while Jim got the boat ready for towing. The seller said he had a mechanic repack the bearings and the cost was $70. I was a bit surprised by the cost, I would have figured $40, but the last thing I wanted was to burn out a bearing in the middle of Illinois, so I consoled myself with that. We ran into one problem. The trailer light plug was too short to reach the jack on my truck. So, we scurried down the busy boulevard to the nearest boat parts store without trailer lights and ran to the storefront just in time to see they had just closed. Luckily, after explaining we wanted to spend money, the manager inside was willing to let us in just long enough to get what what we needed - an extension that let us connect the lights to the truck. We were afraid that the lights may not work, but luck or Karma, a guardian angel, or Providence was with us and Jim was basked in the beautiful red glow of trailer taillights when I threw the light switch in the cab of the truck. since we were operating on Central Time, we thought it was just after 8pm, but it was really just after 9pm. (Eastern). For some reason, this suburban area shuts down entirely on a Friday night. There are few hotels, fewer restaurants, and no bars. We were in need of food and more importantly, cold beer. We found a Holiday Inn for a reasonable price, left the boat there and searched for dinner. It was now about 10pm. No night life, none. That's the worst part of these trips. If you have no idea where to go, you end up eating at Denny's. (There are no cracker Barrels in urban areas.)
For some reason, this Denny's was the only one in the entire country that doesn't have patty melts on the late night menu. While Jim convinced the waitress to have them make one for him, I went with a chicken sandwich. For some reason, people don't drink coffee there at night. I admit I'm not much for it myself, but I know of those who do. Jim asked the waitress several times for coffee and when a cup was at last brought it was a dark, thick, burned brew.. We mentioned it when we paid our bill and got blank stares in return. They didn't charge him for it. We returned to the hotel and I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, although my mind was busy with plans for the next day.
Posted by Bob at September 2, 2003 10:43 PM