Date: Wed, 12 Nov 1997 07:42:18 -0700 From: Charlie Ford To: type2@bigkitty.azaccess.com Subject: Cleveland to Montpelier, VT On Tuesday morning the check arrived at the post office in Akron, Ohio, where I had been camping in the parking lot behind Eric O'Brien's home on Brown Street. I had called the post office and they had informed me that indeed it was due to be delivered, but I also had the option of picking it up. I decided that that would be my most advantageous course of action. Eric and I loaded into the Mothership and headed off to find the post office in question. I was anxiuos to see money in hand and the trip re-begin. After finally figuring out where it was, I went inside and took possession, feeling so very thankful that it had finally arrived. It was a bit late, but now I had it and continuance was inevitable. I dropped by a couple of banks on the way back to Eric's to see if I might could get it cashed. It was a "pay warrant" issued on the Treasurer of the State of Colorado, and plainly said on the front that it could be cashed by any bank or financial institution. This as usual was not the case at all, banks are growing more and more unfriendly when it comes to this sort of thing. I called Neil O'Donnell after arriving back at Eric's and he said to come on over to Cleveland and he would help me get it busted into bills. I proceeded that way, but not before thanking Eric and Tammy for their hospitality. Nice folks they are. Even though Gus had dropped a load or two in the house, they understood and were very patient with him. I met Neil at his office, and we proceeded to go to the bank where his account was housed. The lady at the counter was very friendly, and we all stood their and shared some good laughter while she worked out all of the details concerning my funds. After all was said and done, and me having the bucks in hand, Neil and I went to lunch. We had some really good conversation on life as well as other things. I don't know if we solved any of the problems in the subject area, but we damn sure tried too. I dropped him off at his office, then I was on my way to Vermont. The post "Today I Escape Ohio" was maybe a bit insulting to some of the folks I met in that state, but in all honesty, it was not intended for them. In fact most all of the folks I met were quite nice, but I will honestly say that I didn't like the state as much as I have enjoyed the others. Ohion's are a little more Rush Limbaugh'ish than I really like. Other than the list members I met, there were very few that were really nice, or cordial. Maybe it is the weather, or something in the genes, I am not sure. After leaving Neil at around 1:30 PM, I immediately hit I-90 east. My intentions were to drive as long as I could. I had already come this route when I left Toronto headed for Cincinnati, and Ted Finesman's home down there, so there was just not much to see between Cleveland and Buffalo, NY. I streamed along at 65 mph. The weather was cloudy, as it had been most of the time that I was in Cleveland and surrounding area. It was amazing, but as soon as I got to Erie, Pennsylvania, right on the State line, the clouds moved aside and let the sun show through. I marveled at the blue sky and saw it as a promise of good travel and a fair tailwind to boot. Life was good, I had left Ohio, and new things awaited me on the horizon. Just after entering Pennsylvania, I pulled in behind this Schnieder Semi truck and called him on the radio. I asked him if I could follow in behind him for a ways and he said that would be fine. Schnieder trucks have governers that will allow them to only run about 65 mph, so I knew that his speed would suit me, and he would also create a windbreak for me. There were a few little gusts coming in from the north off Lake Erie that were moving me some, but after tailing him for a while, I no longer felt them as badly. The driver and I got to talking, and as you probably imagine the first thing to come up was Volkswagens. He said that he used to own a Beetle back in the 70's and he loved it. He explained that, over the years he had owned the car it had sort of evoluted from daily driver, to errand runner, to hunting vehicle. I asked if he still owned it but he emphatically replied, "No, but I damn sure wish I did!". We drove and talked, and drove, and talked some more, and somehow time just slid by. Before I knew it was 10:30 at night, dark, and a bit chilly. He and I had driven about 350 miles and had conversed about everything from VW's to dogs to child rearing. We talked about his wife having an incurable strain of hepatitis B, and the fact that I had a friend that also had that dread disease. We spoke of politics and the present state of affairs. We talked about dogs, and people, like they were one in the same. The trucker is truly your friend, or at least in this case this guy "Thumper" was a friend too me. Before I knew it I was at a rest stop in Amsterdam, NY.. I pulled off and so did he. We spoke a minute or two in person and said our good-byes. He took my e mail address down and promised he would drop me a line. I told him that I expected to hear from him soon. Damn good fellow he was, and after we parted ways, I admit I missed the conversation and the company. It is almost as if the bridge was built, before the road was. Now mind you if you were to spend more time with those people you may eventually end up not being so close, but for a while, just for a small season, he and I, over our CB radios, communicated in the most high quality sense of the word. He and his co-driver left the rest area, and I took Gus for a walk. The wind was gusting and cold, maybe around 35 or 40 degrees. Gus decided that he wanted to explore so we walked for a little longer than I really wanted to. He had been sleeping in the bus all afternoon and evening, only getting up to get a drink of water every now and then, and dropping up between the front seats to get his "fix" of petting. He is a good traveling dog. We walked for about 10 or 15 minutes then he finally did his business. I don't guess I could blame him for taking his time. Not only did he need some exercise, but I would hate to know I had to hunker down to drop a load in such cold weather. After the job was done, he was ready to pile back into the warmth of the Mothership. I cranked up the little bottle type propane heater that I use when I have no electricity, slipped on my long johns, and prepared my self for sleep. Gus had already started snoring by the time I slipped into my sleeping bag. I swear he snores just like an old man. I have to tell him too roll over about four times a night sometime. Falling off to sleep about 12:00 midnight, I dreamed of Whirled Peas, Ways to alleviate Violins, and women, not necessarily in that order. At about 3:00 AM the propane ran out of the bottle and it started getting really cold. I plugged in another and fell back off to sleep. This time I dreamed of nothing. I awoke at around 6:00 on Wednesday morning, walked Gus and let him take care of his constitutional, then I took care of mine. I visited the McDonalds at the rest area and purchased an Egg McMuffin and cup of coffee. The price was so high I just about had to finance it. Talk about highway robbery. I was about 30 miles west of Albany, NY, and the plan was to hit I-87 and head north a ways until I picked up highway 4 that would take me all the way to Montpelier, VT. I-87 was filled with traffic headed south, but the north bound side was not bad at all. I drove along at about 60 and totally enjoyed the start of morning. Eventually I reached the exit for Highway #4. I turned and took the east bound lane over to Lake Saratoga. This is a really nice body of water but for some reason I was on the south side of it, and needed to be on the north side of it. I had turned off one exit to early, but no problem, I had some time to tour. The impatience that Ohio had brought me had dissolved and once again I was on my "journey" within the trip. I traveled around the lake until I came to the small New York town of Stillwater. It was there that I picked up Highway #4 and proceeded north toward Vermont. The leaves have already done there changing for this year. Now all you seem to see it is a gray mass where only a couple of weeks ago the colors just shouted from the mountain side. I hate it that I missed it, but I had no choice. That is exactly why I was in such a hurry to move on north. I guess I will have to see them on another trip when I am 50. The little towns on Highway #4 were fine indeed. I traveled slowly through White Plains, Fort Ann, and Whitehall. All of these little towns are rich in history. They were around during the revolutionary war and many of the little towns in this area played important roles in the building of our country. There are signs and markers all along the route telling a story. Whitehall, NY for instance is the birthplace of the US Navy. My Dad, who died in 67, was in that Navy. He was a Chief Petty Officer on a ship in WW II. Subsequently my brother also joined the navy, making it a part of my families life. I always said if I were to join any of the armed forces, it would be the US Navy. I eventually crossed the river into Vermont. The land is extremely beautiful. You travel through a low mountain range covered with birch trees and maple trees other flora. Highway #4 is a good road and seems to take the world by your window in a good easy fashion. Not much traffic, but plenty of nature in front of you. I was about ten miles outside of Rutland, Vermont when I passed a Ford truck climbing one of the grades. I mean, when me and the Mothership pass someone on a fairly steep grade, it is a red letter day. I was just about to celebrate and patt her on the dash, when I saw the Ford Pickup pull over to the emergency lane. I stopped and backed down the hill to see if there was a problem. Got to create the good karma if you expect to reap the good karma. As I pulled up, a woman of about 45 with a look as rough as any cat fight pro jumped out of the drivers side and ran up to my window. She said that she didn't know what had happened, in a very raspy voice, and that it had just quit on her. At about the time she finished her resertation of the problem with the truck, a State Trooper pulled up and asked if he could help. I told him that I could take care of her and get her, and her son, into town. He said that would be fine and thanked me, and that he would keep an eye on her car for her as he did his rounds. The son, according to her, needed to be at the hospital so that he could have some outpatient surgery done on the arm he had broken in a fall a few months back. This young man looked as rough as a cob. He was around 18 or 19, and showed the scars of a mountain boys life. She had mentioned that they lived way back in the hill country about 20 miles south of Rutland. She, He, and I loaded into the Mothership and headed off to Rutland. We talked on the way about how she was going to get back to her car. She explained that her father, if he was home, would let her use his car, or that she had a friend that lived out beside her that would let her use his car. When we arrived at the hospital in Rutland, she and he got out. I told her I would hang around until I made sure she could get back to her car. She went inside and after a few minutes came back out, brought me a cup of coffee, and asked if I could take her back to her house. I clarified that she had said it was about 20 miles toward where we had just come from, and she verified that "yes it was". She also threw in that she would give me gas money, but I refused the money, and told her to get in. I drove her back to her house where she picked up her keys and left a note for her husband. While there, Gus got the chance to meet some new dogs, she had a hybrid wolf and an old German Shepherd that had seen his prime time in life. They planned on putting him down next year she said. I drove her down to her friends home where she got out of the bus. The last thing she did was toss a 10.00 bill into the passenger front seat and told me "take this and buy you some gas". I explained that I had plenty of money and it was no problem, but she insisted. "I stuffed the bill in my shirt!" (Harry Chapin) I had made a new acquaintance, and had helped these folks out. That always makes me feel a little better you know. I headed back out to the highway and proceeded over the same northward route I had taken an hour before. This time it seemed to look different. I seemed to notice more, and for some reason it seemed shorter. I think the "shorter" feeling is just a phenomena of the road, the second time you travel the same route it always seems much shorter. I eased through Rutland and on up toward Montpelier. I was counting miles or maintaining high speed which in The Mothership is around 65. I drove along and adored the countryside which as we all know is ranks with the best in the world, even when the leaves have fallen or turned dark gray. On the way out of Rutland I stopped at a couple of outlet stores. The Dexter shoe outlet was nice, but the prices were fairly steep even for an outlet, so I decided against any new covers for my feet. I also stopped by Goody's Fleece Outlet. This store had some nice stuff, but once again it was way too expensive for the amount of budget I had to work with. The guy there knew a little about AmeriCorps so we talked and got to know each other a bit. That was nice, and if I ever need any fleece, I will have an acquaintance in the business. Just outside of town I turned on Highway #100. I had two choices, go through on #4 to the interstate and head north, or go north on #100 and skirt the mountains. I chose the mountains simply because they were there. The scenery was better and the little villages along the way were really pleasant. I eased on along rolling my way through the mountains. Highway #100 is straight at times then all of a sudden changes into windy narrow passes. it weaves it's way through high ridges and down low in valleys. Most of the valleys are inhabited by pristine farms with large beveled top dairy barns. All of the barns are painted red with white trim setting the off. Tall corn silo's shaped like bullets sit somewhere behind the barn. In the fields you see what once were corn stalks, but now they are little shorts stobs sticking up out of the soil like someone had walked along and stuck them there. This is a good time of year for the farmer to see just how straight a row he can plow. The stobs tell the tale. One thing that impressed me a lot about this route is the road signs. of course one that was very foreign to this traveling "south Georgia boy" were the ones with snowmobiles on them. Another were the ones warning you that you were approaching the driveway of someone with a handicap, such as blindness, of physical impairment. You would see a diamond shape sign that would warn you "blind person ahead", or "wheelchair resident ahead". Good for Vermont, we don't do enough for those folks that don't have the physical blessings we do. Along the route I ran along a river that flowed the opposite way from whence I came. The river early on was big and wide, the further I drove the more narrow it became. I later found out the name of the river was "White", I read a marker that explained that for a couple of centuries this river had been used by native Americans, settlers, and tradesmen to haul goods around this part of the country. It told that they used canoes to transport everything to the villages along the river. I imagined what a life that must have been. I also imagined the farmer for this part of the country in say the mid 1800's. I figure there were mules, and farmers plowing rich black dirt. A traveler coming down the road might have seen this back then. The little house in the background with the farmers wife hanging out clothes or churning butter from the milk that had been squeezed that morning. I imagine it was a hard life, but at the same time a peaceful one. I had a need for some conversation and eventually reached Granville, settled in 1821. I stopped at a place called Vermont Wood specialties and browsed for a few. I bought me some fudge they had for sale, and stood and conversed with the natives that ran the store. We spoke of all sorts of things in our short time together. Way too much to expand on in this writing. Good people they were. I eased on north, and came to highway #2, where I took a right turn to head into Montpelier, Vermont. This is the smallest State Capitol in the USA. I believe it! A fine little city nestled in the mountains that seem to offer one a sense of security from the get go. The first thing you see when you arrive from the west side on #2 is the gold color of the State Capitol. I arrived about sundown so it sort of glowed and stood out, as any good State Capitol building should. I met up with Tom Goody. He is a list member that is already planning his trip around North America. it is supposed to happen sometime around next spring. That should be interesting. I will write more about our visit in the next post. Right now, I was just happy to be there. Thanks for tolerating the ramblings. Charlie Ford "79" Transporter, dressed for the road The Mothership The"Turning 40 Nostalgic VW Service Tour, and Search for the Beginning of Wind". http://www.slurpee.net/~keen/charlie/charlie.html "Wider still and wider.....shall thy bounds be set"