Poul
knew there were three things he couldn't escape -- death, taxes,
and more songs.
A young couple ran the small store. I said we were on our way back to New York State after a trip across country. “We just took a vacation to Florida,” the guy said. “Right in the middle of it, we were evacuated because of Hurricane Charley.” The hurricane did hundreds of millions of dollars in damages, killed 16 people and knocked out electric for over a million people. “Well, it was no fun, but it’s something to remember,” I said. We wished each other well and I left. The whole morning I worried that some glass got in our tire and it would blow going 70 mph. I didn’t have to worry long. We soon slowed 65 mph the rest of the day with construction. Stopped outside Cleveland for supper which wasn’t that good. Hate driving at night. Did about 550 miles. Did a little over 700 yesterday. Funny how the rhythm of the road works. Leigh said this morning that we had about 550 miles. I figured 60 actual miles per hour and estimated we’d arrive at 9:30. So with construction, two stops for gas and dinner we arrived at our motel at 9:35 p.m. Lots of time for thinking. Miss the dogs terribly. Home tomorrow. Love-hate relationship with traveling. Love the new experiences, hate being away from home and the tension of knowing that at any minute, any second, on the road something could go wrong. But it could go wrong anywhere. What will be. . . . * * *
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