Rollin' on toward Indianapolis

This morning, under the rainy skies of Ohio, Collin delivered me to the Moose Lodge where we had been parking the motor home for five dollars a day. Just ahead of a rain shower I disconnected the electric line and brought the coach back to sister-in-law, Phyllis' house where we loaded up our stuff, including clean laundry, and headed once again for the open road. We were trying to beat the rush hour traffic in Akron so we were rolling by 6:30 a.m., though yours truly had not had his breakfast or coffee yet.

Around 8:00 a.m. we spied a Bob Evans restaurant that looked interesting and, since the parking lot was fairly empty, I drove in and took up my usual eight parking spaces. I can't say the coffee was anything to write home about, but the breakfast was hot and the service great. Also on the plus side, our waitress saw that we had brought our Atlas in to lay out our route for the day and she proceeded to carry on a lively conversation with us about traveling and how her parents had just spent 3 1/2 months on a motor home tour that extended all the way to Alaska.

My first task of the day was to figure out how to fix the tail light on the RV that had suddenly decided to quit working. So it was that when we veered off route 77 south and started west on Route 36 I came across a Walley World and drove back to the service area to see if they might have the necessary part. The two twenty-something mechanics just scratched their heads when I showed them what I wanted and told me that they didn't have any such part. Of course my heart sank at that point since it looked like I might spend the rest of the morning trying to find a taillight for a 1996 Ford RV. "But," they quickly added, "just drive out the rear of the parking lot here, take a right, and go down a couple of blocks and you'll see a bus and truck repair place. Maybe they have one."

Not holding out much hope that a bus and truck repair place was going to do me any good, I nevertheless thanked them and set off to seek what I just knew was going to be the first in a long line of fix-it shops that I'd have to visit on our quest.

Moments later we pulled up in front of the repair shop and I walked over to where I saw a mechanic working on, of all things, a motor home. Of course, by then I had removed the old light and was holding it in my hand. When I got the mechanic's attention I held out my taillight and said, "I don't suppose you guys sell this model of light."

"Sure," the mechanic said. "Just go over to the Parts Department window and they'll fix you right up."

Scarcely able to believe it might be true, I set out for the aforementioned window and, when I got the attention of the chap behind the counter, I dangled my scruffy taillight in front of me and asked if he happened to have one.

"Sure do," he said. How many do you want?"

"I'll take two," I said, for I knew if both taillights were the same age they might just decide to burn out around the same time. The ol' bird was in the hand and the next time I needed one I just wanted to go to the storage locker to pull one out.

So the task that had promised to take most of the morning was completed in under an hour and we were back on the road. Since we were traveling on secondary roads, our scenery was beautiful. And even though the Ohio skies were overcast and gloomy we had our book on tape to pass the driving time. That's the good news.

The bad news is that the last two books to which we've been listening on the CD player have been by Stuart Woods, an author that obviously has no trouble getting into print, but an author that I personally wish had taken up bicycle repair or taxidermy or something instead of writing. His stories are just plain unbelievable and dull. He tries to spice up the plot with equally unbelievable sex scenes. And -- this is the worst part -- the guy who narrates these particular books should have found another line of work as well. His speaking voice is sing-songy and stupid-sounding. His ability to do different voices for different characters is nil. And his ethnic character voices are just downright insulting. Finally, all the women sound like men and all the men sound like wimps. Most of the time you hope that characters hurry up and get killed so you don't have to listen to them anymore.

Concetta insisted that we finish both books since we'd paid good money for them. Left up to me I'd have donated them to some unsuspecting library book return box and bid them a not so fond farewell. Fortunately, since I received a lot of books in trade from my buddy John we now have a fresh supply for the balance of the trip.

Today we made it to Indianapolis and we're staying in a KOA just east of town. Outside, the evening is so pleasant that we ate on the picnic table on the lawn outside the coach. Amazingly, we weren't bothered by bugs at all. For the time being we seem to have put the rain behind us.

In the morning we're headed a few miles north to take in a outdoor museum before we decide in which direction to drive. Concetta doesn't really want to go straight west which I suppose would take us through the cornfields of Nebraska and such. So the subject is still under discussion. What's happened in the past is that we'll run into someone tomorrow who will recommend a particular destination and that will decide the question. You know how I love serendipity.

Until tomorrow, then, I bid you good food, good wine, and best of all, good traveling.