Date: Wed, 12 Nov 1997 07:42:18 -0700
From: Charlie Ford <cford@mindspring.com>
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"