Our first stop at a Valero gas station in Jersey. I was so excited about our trip I told the gas attendant that we were driving to California. He was a little Indian man and his eyes lit up in happiness that we were traveling. He told us that in his country, he once drove 200, 000 miles. While getting the first of many many coffees, inside the station, Jill said something hilarious I wanted to remember for the blog, but I completely forgot. At some point that memory flew out the back window and is somewhere forgotton on Route 80 in Jersey. While we were driving away I looked at the gas attendant and waved. I think secretly he blessed our car and told Jill it was an amazing omen to begin with.
In Jersey Jill's ipod died. Shit. We REFUSED to buy GPS or accept it as a gift even, because that isn't what this is about. However we were not above plugging the Macbook into stereo and rocking out to DJ Jill. She was playing some good stuff. Around this time I started to feel tired, what woke me up was a song by the Aquabats called something "Chicken." I can't remember, but it was amazing. When I have more time, I will post the music we have been rocking out too.
Pit stop in Warren, Ohio where a nice greek family in one of the most beautiful houses I have ever been in served us Avgolemono soup, which is a traditional travel soup or a soup you serve to wish someone health, or maybe just what they had that day and they wanted to make us feel special. And we did. There was chicken in it. I ate around it. I couldn't refuse something from a little Yaya who immediately kissed me upon arrival. The Greek mother gave us directions to Cleveland, an hour away, then called her husband gave us new directions, then consulted her father and gave us new directions. Her sons and daughter all contributed loudly to these directions.
We got lost. Being lost in Ohio means the towns aren't on the map and the only landmarks are corn fields and cows. Jill with 3 maps open on her lap directed us back, earning her the titles, Mapquest Jill, Jillian the Navigator, and JPS. We played classic rock to get us pumped after Jill revived her iPod from instructions texted to her from her IT tech-y friend: "Hit it on your knee."
It actually worked and DJ Jill blasted Welcome to the Jungle as the Cleveland skyline appreared over the guardrails of route 490. There have never been two New Yorkers so happy to see Cleveland ever in history. No one can contest that.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame blew our minds. Better than any amusement park, I gushed over Jim Morrison's High School Diploma, Jill flipped out over a Les Paul exhibition that featured the world's first electric guitar, a block of wood with a string. Jill teared up, I was not impressed. We walked away seeing, most importantly of all- more important than Johnny Cash's tour van or Janis Joplin's funeral invitation- THE white glove of Michael Jackson. Yes, it was sparkly.
The rest of Cleveland was so uninteresting there is no point in posting on it. It took us 20 minutes to find a street with people. And then the people failed to capture our interest. "Let's get out of here" "Yeah"
We did however get lost again, this time it was divine intervention. While looking for 90 I saw a small brown sign on a post, "A Christmas Story House and Museum."
"No f----ing way."
The leg lamp was in the window and the rotted sled was on the porch of the house on this unassuming street. It was awesome.
We ended up back on the road, following Lake Erie west. We stopped at this winery that was located in a "historic" barn. For 7 dollars I had one of the best bottles of red wine I have ever tasted, while a kind-of-sad middle aged man played Ben Harper's "Lizzie," which happens to be one of my favorite songs. Good omen. We drank and wrote postcards and mapped. This drew attention and before we knew it we were getting advice about where to go, what to do, how to do it.
"Yes we are going to California"
"90 or 80"
"Mostly 90, we are are staying kind of North."
"You should go to Missouri, I'll give you directions."
"We are kind of staying more North."
"There are lots of wineries in Missouri. I grew up there, you know"
"OK, we will consider it."
"Where are you going next."
"Chicago."
"Oh that is only 4 hours away."
"Really?"
Maybe it was the wine, or the rain that made us reconsider camping. Maybe it was an internal desire to see something that looked less like Upstate New York. Something new and different. Four hours seemed reasonable and surmountable. At 10:30 at night, after 17 hours in transit we decided to pull another 4 and drive to Chicago.
Internet on the road is harder to come by than we thought. Next time, we hope, there will be pictures.
Stay tuned for our adventures in Chi-town.
No comments:
Post a Comment