Lonely roads

I see it from a couple miles away, every time I'm heading down US 68 towards Electric Eel in the wee hours before the dawn. It stands out as it is illuminated by a bright light; you cannot miss it sitting starkly to the side of the road. The four windows facing me on the square, white frame house seem to stare at my approach. The image is positively eerie and now etched in my mind. It makes Route 68 feel like one very lonely road.

68 is not the only lonely road I've come to know. Interstate 71 between Cincinnati, Ohio and Louisville, Kentucky is one long, isolated highway even in the daytime. At night there are stretches where you feel like the only soul on Earth as the freeway winds around mountains and through valleys. 

The 402 in Ontario, Canada is especially bad at night. It's long and straight and goes on forever with hardly any light between Sarnia and London. The Big Mac between Michigan's Upper and Lower peninsulas is absolutely desolate at two in the morning. At its crest you feel more alone than on I-71.

US 24 between Fort Wayne, Indiana and Toledo, Ohio is the loneliest daytime road I know. Even in bright sunlight there's nothing there as you cruise through northwest Ohio. There aren't even the gas stations and truck stops which are generally found near the exits of American superhighways. At least, not once you clear the Love's right inside the Indiana line. The stretch of road is about 80 miles but it always seems to take me forever to cut across it. I only use it because it's the most direct route home for me from Indianapolis, so I know the feeling is psychological. Still, it's quiet. Too quiet.

I haven't been in Wyoming or Nevada, where signs warning of no gas for 100 miles exist, but I can imagine there's many a lonely lane there. But we have ours here in our part of the world. My driving experience attests to that.

Get this Pops

Hey Pops, how are you this morning?

So I broke the coil spring behind the driver's front tire on my van yesterday. Yet I had needed pickups to make at Electric Eel this morning. You know what that meant, don't you?

I drove to Eel and back today with a broken spring.

The van drove fine the whole 400 miles. I only had to deal with the tinkling, ringing sound I heard when I turned the heater off. It really didn't act out of the ordinary at all. The tinkling did sound weird on US 68 in the pitch black at 4:15 this morning, though. But I never thought twice about making the trip.

I guess this makes me a true Cosgriff, eh? Be sure to tell Joe. I don't doubt he'll get a kick out of it.

Until next time,

Marty

PS: The car's at Sam's now. I don't want to go too long without getting it fixed.

A review of an adventuresome but otherwise dull Friday

Yesterday, Friday, June 7, 2019, was a routine day in the life of Charles Martin Cosgriff. I know because I am he who lived it.

It began earnestly if early enough at a little after 1 o'clock in the morning. I woke before my alarm, ran through the shower, and was on my way to Electric Eel Manufacturing as is my wont once or twice per week. I drove about thirty miles and stopped for a coffee at a Love's Truck Stop simply because I had never had Love's coffee before. I was bitterly disappointed. I should have went to the next exit for the 24 hour Tim Horton's I knew very well was there.

Fog shrouded my journey, particularly after I had reached US Route 68 just south of Findlay, Ohio. One feels isolated and alone in the wee hours of the morning when it is pitch black and you are moving through a ground cloud. I sipped my coffee because I will not throw out even bad coffee paid for. It was still bitter.

Breakfast at Cracker Barrel was enjoyable as I sat with a good friend. Biscuits and gravy. Them's hard to beat. The coffee was hot, smooth. No bitterness. I was thankful for that.

I loaded my order at Eel with the help of the shipping clerk. On my way home I made without event deliveries at both Lima and Toledo, Ohio. Not one but two cars with Alaska plates shared the road with me. Though unusual, it was not earth shattering. I've seen Alaska plates before.

Back at the Shop I unloaded, and dealt with three customers, garnering a total of $235 from them. I've done better, much better, yet it still put me $235 ahead of where I have found myself on many a day. It helped dissipate the bitterness I still felt over Love's coffee.

I went home, and it occurred to me that a review of my day might make a mildly interesting if only time killing and space filling blog post. So I did so. Sometimes it is the best one can do. I excised the dull parts just the same.