On the first night of our expedition into the deepest, darkest jungles of Central America Ohio, I suffered traveler’s sleeplessness. It wasn’t my idea! After eight hours of driving, and a warm filling meal at Arby’s, I was asleep by 11:00 PM, while the wife was still watching TV.
At about 1 AM, I came awake enough to know that I was awake. I thought that I had heard an odd sound outside our exterior door – a high-pitched yipping noise, as from a small animal – someone’s little dog?? I was willing to snuggle back down into the warm, comfy bed, and the embrace of sleep – until some throttle-jockey with a semi-load of gravel, got caught at a red light, up on the highway, and Jake-braked his way down through 4 or 5 gears. Thuubb….THUUUBBB….THHUUU-BB-BB….THHHUUUBBB-UUBB!!! Well, I’m awake now.
With the wife now sleeping peacefully, I gently, quietly, crawled out of bed, and put my pants, shirt, and boots back on. I ensured that I had my wallet and car keys, and softly opened the door. Outside, I pulled it to, against the magnetic storm-seals, and considered. If I pull it tight, the lock will CLICK, loudly in a quiet night, and possibly wake the wife. However, if I just leave it like that, a wind-gust, or a passing person might push it open.
Just as I pull it closed, I realize that my key-card is on the bed-table. Shit! Shit! Shit! There is no overnight clerk in the lobby. Perhaps I’ll sleep in the car – a decision for later. I take the car to the nearby service station, and gas it up at $3.219/gal. Two days later, I top the tank up again for the drive home, at $3.159. After missing a turn on the way home, that cost me 100 extra miles, and almost two hours driving, I stopped on Grand Island in New York. “Gotcha” price was $3.999/gal, but still cheaper than Canadian gas, just across the border.
Back to my sleepwalking. I amble out to the cross-street, completely around the closed KFC and back. I circumnavigate the Wendy’s on the side street, picking up 14 cents off the pavement below the drive-thru window. The ‘Jerry’ who runs the restaurant in front of the motel, is not the same ‘Jerry’ who runs the used car lot directly behind it.
Beside the restaurant, is a very un-Canadian business. It’s a fair-sized steel warehouse, surrounded by a 7-foot chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire, with two gates in it, identified as 922 Drive-Thru. When the gates, and the business, are open, people drive into the warehouse, where soft drinks, beer, wine, cigarettes, vaping products, snuff, chewing tobacco, chopped tobacco leaves, and Ohio State Lottery tickets are brought, and placed in the vehicles. They then drive through – hence the name – turn, and exit through a side gate. Y’all got somethin’ like this where you live??
I decide to walk up to the highway, to see who the constant stream of heavy trucks are. I walk a block or so out, along the paved shoulder, and turn back. I’m the only one, fool enough to walk out here but, I spot a smooth, lemon-sized stone on the paving, and kick it into the grass. A few steps further on, I notice another, golf-ball-sized one, and prepare to boot it, when it glints in the moonlight. When I pick it up, it is an automobile lug-nut
When our hostess drove out to meet us yesterday, I noticed that a lug-nut was missing from one of her front wheels. When she returns, later in the morning, I jokingly claim that I found her lost nut, and try to install it. With all the possible diameters and thread pattern combinations – IT FITS! Now she only needs a wrench to tighten it on.
Meanwhile, back at the motel…. I walk completely around it in the parking lot. It’s 40 years old, but well-maintained. I decide to climb to the second-floor balcony and walk around it up there, enjoying the magnificent view, and the now-brisk night air. 😉
As I approach one end, a large white cat runs from me – a feral cat? Someone’s untethered pet? It disappears around a corner, and I slowly, quietly, follow. It’s now at the far corner. As soon as it sees me, it dashes away again – but not smoothly, slinkily – Hippity-hop, with no tail. 😳 I almost followed Alice’s white rabbit on the second floor.
What woke me up? Do rabbits make noise? At 3 AM, I tapped on the door, and the wife reluctantly let me back in. The next morning, I found the quill from my Not In My Write Mind post in front of my car, and linked it back to my I Found A Feather post. It’s a foot long. Our hostess thought that it might be from a peahen. Peafowl in Ohio?? I guess anything is possible in Weird Al Yankovic’s Amish Paradise, but I never heard any distinctive peacock calls. Later, the daughter felt that it might be from a wild turkey. Does either make strange noises at night? What do you amateur ornithologists think??
Archon's Den 