A midsummer's Road Trip, taking me home VA-WV-OH-MI-IN-OH-PA-MD-VA (1500 miles in 5 days)

Since moving to Northern Virginia from Metropolitan Detroit in 1988, I have naturally had continued interest in going back to my ancestral homeland, in the Great Lake State of Michigan (I can't wait to see the Statehood Quarter for MI in 2004!).  Unfortunately, I rarely have a relief driver, so most times I've had to take that miserable 90 minute hop from DCA to DTW, looking down on the North Shore of OH and the Lake Erie islands.  I cannot pull the stunt so successfully performed by our nation's great cross-country trucking teams, so if I want to drive, I need to stop somewhere in the middle, so that fatigue does not overtake me in accomplishing the 440 air miles that are at least 560 on the ground.  I've been up through western PA, twice, camping at locations near the 'Pike, and I've also chased across OH on I-70 a couple times, then taking the route north through Ft. Wayne, IN to stop first at Grandma's house in Battle Creek.  These journeys, all alone in the vehicle, turn out to be classic road-trips through what's left of the American motoring infrastructure.  This is how it happened, astride the midsummer solstice in 2003.

19 June 2003--Up and Over

I was up at 8:00 AM, to finish squaring away the gear that I had to dust off and recount from previous years, when I would actually camp plural times in one of the year's three seasons.  I was bringing my dinghy, an 8-1/2 foot inflatable Zodiac RU 260, complete with its Mercury 2.5 HP outboard, and all the other equipment that a fully-constituted "powerboat" (the VA5675AZ) requires.  This was to take out on Lake Ovid, once I got to MI.  It was a whole lot of stuff, as any camping adventure will involve.  I had a pretty solid truck-ful, as I headed out I-66 to I-81 south, with the intermediate destination of Pendleton County, WV.  Once I'd cleared Harrisonburg, VA, the country became decidedly pastoral and perhaps even "bucolic", with a great number of cattle and poultry under cultivation in the "breadbasket of the Confederacy" along the Shenandoah.  Before long, I started up US-33 to the kind of climb I'd remembered from Shenandoah NP, Thornton Gap, only a good bit more involved and higher at the summit.  Once solidly into the hills and across the WV line within the George Washington National Forest, I discovered a self-serve target range of which I took command as the only one present.  It was beautiful, and I stuffed a handy donation into the pipe.  I continued on to Franklin, where I stopped at Cline Realty to pick up a few MLS sheets and submit a contact card.  Who wouldn't  be interested?

I continued the routine of the wild course of pre-Interstate road-grading, taking US-33 through Elkins and on to my planned camp at Cedar Creek State Park.  It had been raining en route, only it stopped by the time I was setting up.  There was a confluence of two small streams, immediately behind my site--8T, for Tent.  The ground was sloped (this was WV, after all), so I failed to find a perfectly level campsite.  With everything pitched and deployed, I received a visit from the gentleman camping across the road from me.  This, apparently, is a WV custom; the neighborly campsite visit, for it has happened to me in the past.  He was an amiable middle-aged fellow named "Phil", who had with him a couple of near-pubescent nephews who regaled me with the art of hunting squirrel with an air rifle.  Phil, it seems, was into black bear, and was interested in what I had seen in Shenandoah NP over the years.  He talked of going to AK someday, in pursuit of the mighty brown species.  This is the kind of man who lives his entire life in such country as WV.  We sat by the fire, in a scene that was surely resonant of cave-man days.  Later in the evening, after Phil had to return to his own group, I finally got to the point where I felt sincere joy in cooking up an order of 3 Johnsonville brats on my table-top LP grill.  By about midnight, I was ready to retire to my USMC combat tent and Modular Sleep System.  It rained overnight, but I was most certainly dry, though I had to fight against sliding "downhill" all night.

The quintessential campsite-scene; Cedar Creek SP, Glenville, WV.  The truck appears to have "given birth".
(Note how the tent slopes down, left to right, on the way to the stream).

20 June 2003 -- My expedition continues

I woke to a thoroughly wet environment, when I finally came out of the tent at 9:00 AM, with the task ahead of me of breaking camp and moving on.  It was actually a lot of fun, chucking that gear back in the truck, with the challenge of shipping a minimal quantity of the kind of mud I know well from trips past into Appalachia.  I returned to the driving task that remained along Route 33, which actually involved quite the endurance to "come out" at the town of Ripley, by way of Spencer, where I stocked up on various supplies and ice for the coolers.  I grew just a little drowsy on the section of I-77 through the Ohio River port of Marietta, when I was destined for Akron.  I woke fully up by the time I indulged one of my little vices; the patronage of roadside fireworks stands.  Oh, what a big kid I am!  The day was advancing towards evening by the time I finally hit the OH Turnpike near Cleveland.  I rounded Toledo, then started north on US-23 into MI, as night began to fall at 8:45 PM.  I stopped at one of MI's roadside stands as referenced above (sales without paperwork...strange...), then made a determined thrust towards the renowned and fabulous Cabela's store in Dundee.  I had started on the trip without my dinghy-oars, as noted by Thomas N., my continued associate.  Thus, as I was graciously admitted past the 9:00 PM closing at 9:05 PM, I went to the Marine section and obtained a general-purpose paddle and boat-hook.  Old Dick Cabela is finally coming into his own, 40 years down the road.  Here's to the sporting life!

With the hours finally getting to the point where I might consider going to bed, I passed up US-23, on the eastern perimeter of Ann Arbor.  That town and me have a notorious past, nearly a quarter century back.  I turned the corner onto M-14 eastbound, as I had driven so many times as a young man, but there wasn't much development until I neared the intersection with Sheldon Road, where the immense Visteon facility now sits.  I was bound and determined to make the last piece up Sheldon Road/Center Street, as was my course so long ago in ex-urbia, only they were building some kind of exclusive golfing community in the area of the old Mission Hills course.  The road was closed at Five Mile to through traffic, only I found my way around the barrier.  What had the passage of time wrought, anyway?  Northwestern Wayne County appears to be the likely boom-site of the great populuxe of the 2000's.  After I passed through the spiffed-yet-recognizable downtown of Northville, I was impressed by the wonderfully genteel "livability" that had been installed among streets that were now fully "established" after 30 years and more.  Arriving at the old homestead I had left, half of a 30-year civil service career ago, I noted how large the trees had all become.  It was all so lovely.  I came in to our old, duly-renovated colonial, and I sat down on the sofa to chat with Ma and Dad.  Dad had to leave shortly after 11:00 PM, however, to get in line at the Border's in Novi--this was the midnight when Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix became available, for my 11-year-old nephew Sam.  The things a grandfather is moved to do are something to behold.  I went to bed in one of the the twin beds in my old bedroom, which of course has been revised as well as any effort by Winston Smith in altering the record in Nineteen Eighty-Four.  Who needs pillow shams, anyway?

21 June 2003 -- Quite the full day

Ma came in to wake me at 10:00 AM, so that I could get a reasonably early start on heading over to meet up with brother Tom, now a full 37 years old.  I did the usual rapid shower and preparation, then drove out I-96 at the 70 mph speed limit to the still-distinct Lansing-area town of Williamston. Not a whole lot had developed along this particular corridor, which approximates the magnificent path of Grand River out of Detroit.  Fortunately, I had packed the Harry Potter tome among the gear in the truck, so's to keep Sam current.  After the non-greeting I got from their gorgeous boxer named "Marley" ("she only likes women", explained sister-in-law Cheryl who had other obligations), I followed Tom in his Cherokee out the many country roads to Sleepy Hollow State Park, north of Lansing.  We obtained munchies at an infamous outlet in the area named "Don's", then arrived at the ranger station to claim our two reserved campsites, ##116, 118.  The kids, who also included 8-year-old Georgia Ruth (she has all the personality of Tatum O'Neal in Paper Moon) , were interested in getting camp set up, and this was an opportunity for me to air out my thoroughly-soaked tent in the dry and sunny climate of central MI.

Once established, I rode around with Tom to the boat launch area, where he went to rent a small aluminum motorboat.  I, on the other had, had the chore of hauling out, assembling and ramp-launching my dinghy.  I'm not sure what the empty weight of the total boat is, but it's probably around 150 pounds.  I started out with Georgia riding in the bow (as my "figurehead", I joked to her), and followed along with Tom, whose boat also contained a 2.5 HP Mercury.  About 5 minutes out, my outboard mysteriously flamed out.  I jerked the cover and fiddled with the mixture adjustment, only it would not sustain a start.  But then--I remembered to open the vent cap on the integral tank.  Yes, my mixture was decidedly lean, on account of the vacuum.  Gosh, but I love small engines!  We proceeded out to an open stretch of Lake Ovid, where I ran alongside Tom and Sam in the decidedly-heavier aluminum craft.  I said to Georgia, "I could smoke them any time I want", whereupon I went to wide open, but only succeeded in winning by a nose.  I rode the lake for awhile, then dropped anchor near the dock and let my niece take a swim, wearing her personal flotation device, of course.  These kids have "learned to swim well, at the YMCA".  I came in after Tom and Sam had returned their boat, taking Sam along, too, to let both kids swim.  I shipped a lot of water from their climbing over the tubular gunwales, so it was good that I had a Red Bull can for the purpose of bailing.  Georgia thought the boat should be named "Rocket", on account of its resemblance to a twin-hull launch vehicle, and I finally settled on "Rock-It".  I drove a few more times around the lake on my own, coming ashore to pack away at about 8:00 PM.

"Da-d' du-da -- Roast an Eggplant" -- the Order is Established
L - R: Sam, Georgia, and Redneck Uncle Ray

The basic routine by the fire was well underway when I drove up, with Ma and Dad to join in the fun.  I sat by the fire talking with Georgia, who seems to enjoy singing along to the songs in The Music Man.  We both agreed that, unlike Robert Preston, Matthew Broderick was no "Music Man".  This being the summer solstice, something I noted long in advance, and at the greater latitude and longitude than home, it stayed light until 10:00 PM EDT.  Tom, being of the character he is, always likes to roast strange things on the campfire.  This time it was an eggplant, occasioning me to think that we'd originated some kind of tradition; the Order of the Roasted Eggplant.  It was so silly.  Later on, I decided I'd cook what was left of my perishable meat-supply, only the frozen Bubba Burgers I'd packed on ice lost almost all of their juice, and the resulting burgers were rather nasty.  Two of them looked like Caribbean islands to me and Tom, in a competition for superiority.  Those were casualties, sacrificed to the flames.  I realized, with the prevalence of e. coli, that we had a bio-hazard amid all of this tepid fluid, so I did my best at sanitation, using a disposable foam cooler that I promptly trashed at the end.  At least the other two Johnsonvilles held out.  I cook, therefore I eat.  With the tent duly pitched on the other site, I noted what a beautiful starry sky we had, and out in the sticks.  I took my bivy-covered MSS sack out onto the grass, and I proceeded to sleep under the stars.  It was actually rather cold out that night.  The stars were indeed beautiful, along with the sweep of our galaxy restored to its rightful place next to the puny lights of Earth.

22 June 2003 -- In the process of motion

I was successful in closing out the camping stay at Sleepy Hollow without major detaining incident, once I'd shaken the lassitude of being in that sack all night.  We burned the fire a bit more with abandoned wood, scavenged from the departure next door to me, prior to breaking our camps.  Though things seemed a little on the low side at this point, I did care enough to take a shower and clean up on the way out.  I used my truck's console compass to find my way out to I-69 southwest bound, to Battle Creek.  During the later afternoon, I visited Grandma and Uncle Dick for a few hours, in their central city home that dates to the mid 19th century.  It is a treasure of my identity, Grandma's house.  Uncle Dick set up a card table for me, so I could clean my implements from the trip to the range on Thursday.  I decided I'd get a jump on the 2-day trip home, as I headed south on I-69 with an order of McDonald's Drive...Through...chow on board.  I stopped to shop at the incredible Shelton's warehouse across the state line in IN.  It's all consumer grade 1.4G, this stuff.  I drove on along the Turnpike, talking first to Thomas N. for 20 miles near Toledo on the cell phone, then to Ma as I was fixing to settle in at a hotel room.  This comprised the king single #166 I obtained at the Bellevue Hotel & Suites, a former chain hotel that has the honor of being the best I could see at Exit 110 of the Turnpike, in Bellevue, OH.  Having arrived at 9:00 PM, I was fortunate in getting the room, I do think.

23 June 2003 -- A determined passage home

I am grateful, actually, that I did not throw the dead-bolt in #166, which resulted in housekeeping attempting to service the room after a presumed departure.  What a wake-up call, at 10:00 AM.  I watched ER on TNT as I repacked my suitcase load and took a shower.  The trip back from Bellevue consisted of three sequential shifts.  The first, lasting 3 hours, took me to the Zelienople Roadside, at mile 18 in PA.  I seem to have less need now for bathroom breaks--perhaps I "sweat it out" in the style of George Costanza, in his visit to India.  I took a 30-minute break until 2:30 PM, so as to include some time playing the Sega "Dodge Viper" pinball machine there.  I still mourn the close of the Williams/Bally tradition, only the game is still alive in what was left.  I'd like to buy a brand new, in-the-box Monopoly, by Pat Lawler, but heavens, that's 4 grand.  I got back on the road and drove on past Pittsburgh, getting somewhat drowsy again in the area of the old Exit #10 (they are all labeled according to mile markers now; this was somewhere around MP 95).  But I pushed through, straight past Breezewood to the high-class Phantom outlet near the MD border.  That was another 3-hour driving stint.  The rest was a single effort, right down I-70 and I-270 in the typical shortest-path route, that only took 2 more hours.  There is nothing like moving along up there in an F-150 cab, except maybe an F-350 SuperDuty.

I got home at the relatively early hour of 8:00 PM.  The sun was out, apparently having followed me to Northern VA from Saturday's splendor.  Thus ended the notable late spring rains, which have caused every garden to grow over.  I've noted that the plants in VA have a much "greener" overall effect than the vegetation that ekes out the seasons in MI.  I had the unquestionably-sweet advantage of 24 June on annual leave, to get everything put away.  My cat Thomas had done well under Thomas N.'s care.  He's an amazing cat, in his advanced years.  I got onto the computer and discovered that I had 97 pieces of unsolicited e-mail to pitch.  The industry must respond to this threat.  Well, in WV I felt free, and in MI I rediscovered family, which will always be there.  It helps to get on out of town, once in awhile.

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