Road Trip, Part II

On my way to Michigan I stopped in Cleveland for a quick visit with my daughter Kate.  That girl can talk me into anything which is why my hair is now so short.  Does losing weight by getting a haircut count?


When the visit was over, Katie wrote out the directions to Detroit by hand.  She packed me little bags of sweets and treats to eat on the way and gave me a short pep talk.  Even though I had eaten the chocolate before the car rolled out of her parking lot, I still had carrots to munch on and felt pampered.


Much of the trip from Cleveland to Detroit is on the I-80 turnpike, a fast, stress-free drive.  As night fell though, I  realized two things.  First, I couldn't read the directions.  Second, Kate had sent me on I-696, the Michigan Autobahn -- zoom
zoom.  On both sides of me millions of vehicles with twinkling headlights were hurling through space at speeds that rocked the light fantastic.

My lane was different though.  We were traveling at a much more sensible speed -- at least those cars lucky enough to be in the lane behind me.  I know I was significantly improving their driving experience by allowing them that rare opportunity to relax and unwind because every time I looked in the rear view mirror, the line behind me was longer.  Clearly they were grateful. What a satisfying feeling!

Okay, right -- in my dreams.   Actually people were driving like there had been a nuclear explosion behind them and this was the sole route to safety.  Anyone behind me, the lone driver on the entire expressway driving the speed limit (a tooth rattling 70 mph), rapidly changed lanes and probably even flipped me the finger as they passed, but all I saw was a blur.   

So relieved was I to reach my exit alive that it didn't much matter to me that I tarnished my sterling driving reputation by calling my daughter Jessica six times for directions.  In the end, I only had to make one u-turn at one of those strange intersections with that peculiar sign that says, "drivers turning left stay right." That defies logic but somehow it all works out.  I eased my car into the driveway just in time to kiss my grandson goodnight.

So far, the worst thing that has happened to me on this trip is that I've been forced to pump my gas myself.  Most of it has even ended up in the tank.

It's all good.