Day 2/Part 1 – Forgetful Follies and Awful Aftermath
Since it was the son, Shimoniac, who was originally to accompany me on the Blogger Safari/Pilgrimage, I had not informed the wife about the lollipops I’d obtained, and forgotten to give to Cordelia’s Mom. After we were in our motel room, I admitted my senile oversight, and we slept on what to do to correct the problem.
The next morning, the wife said that she felt well enough to drive back across town, to deliver them to CM’s house. With a little help from Ethel GPS, and the knowledge I had obtained during yesterday’s high-speed chase, we made it safely. I called her private cell phone because I didn’t have her work number, to tell her what we planned to do, but had to leave a voice-mail.
In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a guy. Men and women do things differently, as CM noted in a recent post. I was just going to present the suckers in the plain white paper bag that the Mennonite vendor had put them in.
The wife was horrified! Soon, we were in a WalMart, buying a small gift bag, and a Thank You card, and rainbow colored tissue paper. The wife did all the social stuff, and soon had a pretty little package, almost as nice as the one CM had given us the day before, while I dragged my club around, bopping the occasional sabre-toothed tiger or woolly mammoth.
Using my Stalker Senses, I soon had us at the front door of CM’s modest little suburban cottage. The turbo-charged soccer-mom van from yesterday was in the driveway, but I didn’t know how she commuted to work. I pushed the doorbell, but heard neither a ding-dong, (Oh! – He was outside.) nor any movement. I carefully placed the package between the doors, and headed for the car.
Suddenly, the front door flew open, and Tasmanian Niceness Devil came swirling out to meet us. She comes home for lunch each day to let new puppy, Cody out. She’d called the motel, but we’d already left, and she just hoped to be there when we arrived. The woman makes me tired just watching her. She gets more done by nine AM, than I procrastinate all day.
We had another lovely get-together, which was sadly cut short because she had to get back to work, and we had a long way to go, and a short time to get there, and needed to be on the road. CM directed us on how to reach the Interstate, by telling us to go down her street for “a couple of blocks, and turn right on Delaware Road. It’ll take you right to the up-ramp.”
A couple of blocks down the street, it was crossed by another narrow, ordinary, residential street, at an odd 60 degree angle, rather than 90, proving that not just Kitchener has strangely laid out roads. I couldn’t see a street sign, but, it seemed hardly the type of road to feed an Interstate onramp. A ‘couple of blocks’ further on, I could see a big, six-lane road – that must be the one. Sure enough, I turned right on Delaware Ave, and a half-mile later, I sat at a traffic light at the base of the Throughway ramp – waiting for the traffic coming up Delaware Road, where I could have been, if I’d just paid attention.
We’d had toast and juice for breakfast, but now it was approaching 2 PM, and we needed to shake out the kinks, and consume some protein. We did this at a service center at Angola, a small town west of Buffalo. Here, deep troughs were dug, about a quarter-mile apart, for the east-bound, and west-bound Interstate traffic.
The single service area perches on the top of the hill in the middle. There are parking areas on either side, and enclosed overhead pedestrian walkways out to the center. I have encountered only one other such middle-located service center. It’s on the Florida Turnpike, just north of Miami. People can pass through the buildings, but barricades keep the toll-paying automobiles moving in the correct directions.
It’s another 4 to 5 hours of driving to our next motel, so I’ll relate the details of that in the next segment. 🙂