Day 9 - Valley Forge, PA

221 Miles today.


God is in His heaven and all is right with the world. I have an oil filler cap for Betsy. And all thanks to some very nice people at Woodstock Powersports, 601 Route 28 West, Kingston, NY.

Last night I had programmed into my GPS four Kawasaki dealers headed south down through New Jersey. I was sitting at the door to the first place, Woodstock, when they opened this morning. As I expected they did not have the filler cap in stock. It is just not something the dealers will carry. But this group differed from that feces in Poughkeepsie yesterday who wouldn't even acknowledge my problem. In fact, when I asked for the nearest other dealer he said Kingston but then, when asked said he didn't even have their phone number. Yeah, right dog-dropping.
Anyway, whenever the folks at Woodstock recognized my dilemma they did what you're supposed to do: they served their customer. They pulled an oil filler cap off one of their bikes and let me have it. They will order in a replacement and they now have a very happy customer who is more than willing and excited to pass the word where ever he can that this is a dealer with whom to do business. Obviously, I will recommend them on the MTF (Motorcycle Tourer's Forem) so more bikers know of their commitment to servicing the customer. Seeing they weren't all that busy I asked them if I could give them some work, i.e., an oil change. One of the ladies asked me if it was time for an oil change and I said, "No, but it's close enough to give you some business," so that's what we did. The filler cap and gasket were only $17.00. And they earned more.

Pulled onto the road about 11:00am, heading south.


View of the Hudson river valley off 9W about ten miles north of West Point.












Besty, meditating before reporting for Hell Barracks, U.S. Military Academy, West Point, June 2009.










Stopped at West Point for a short visit.

Visitors entrance and museum. There is a tour where one, I am sure, can snap all sorts of pictures of the site. Me, I don't do good tour.











This pretty much sums it all up. The history, the people who have attended here, their contributions and sacrifices do us all the honor anyone could deserve.








But...that isn't to say they haven't fielded their share of jackasses either.













For example: Why are they targeting a church?











Pulled out of West Point and proceeded just south of New York City and took the famous, or is it imfamous, New Jersey Turnpike to just outside of Philidelphia, exiting there and riding through Philly to the western side near Valley Forge. I'm going to pop in there for a few minutes tomorrow then head for the "eastern" shore of Delaware then over to Virginia Beach where I'm meeting up with my friend, Claye, famously known on the MTF and in Iron Butt circles as "Fleeter." Believe me, compared to Fleeter I'm no rider. She's a rider.

Day 8 - Kingston, NY

70 Miles today.

Oh...woe is me...I'm such a putz...an idiot of the first order. I am the poster child of stupid. A picture of me is next to the entry for ignorant in the dictionary.

More later.


The morning began beautifully in Litchfield, CT. We had planned to go to breakfast about 9:00am then Bob and I were going to take a little tour of Litchfield, leaving me plenty of time to take the short ride over to Hyde Park, NY where I intended to visit the Franklin D. Roosevelt home there. But, as Mr. Robbie Burns so aptly said, "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley."

I awoke at 6:30 and thought I'd just nap for a few more minutes. When I awoke it was already 9:00 and I was late. Managed to clean up almost presentably and joined Bob and Karen. We had breakfast and then Bob and I went on the aforementioned short tour of Litchfield. If you are ever up this way you really need to see this place. There is history at every corner, and absolute beauty where ever you look.


Main street - Litchfield.
















The Court House















A little country road to the park donated by the "Brass King" of Waterbury's daughter to the city of Litchfield.













Bob and Karen't church in Litchfield. Recently renovated to the tune of about $2M.

















Several of the homes had dates on them like 1789, 1770, etc. In fact, a couple with dates like 1853 seemed upstart, new money dwellings after a while.









Yet another beautiful old home.














An another. I especially liked this one because it was painted something other than white.











A little further on is the sign announcing the earliest American Law School.

Interestingly the two most famous graduates are Aaron Burr and John C. Calhoun. The former, obviously, the former Vice President of the U.S. who shot and killed Alexander Hamilton in a duel and was later charged with treason by Thomas Jefferson's administration.
Mr. Calhoun is the long serving and famous "States Righter" read pro-slavery advocate from South Carolina. So...what conclusions can be drawn from this? Lawyers are scoundrels? Well, yeah, but...how about things haven't improved much in this area over the last two hundred and thirty-some years?


This is the actual building Burr attended college in. You will note there is no chimney so there was no heating during those Connecticut winters; something I suspect is guaranteed to not improve one's disposition or viewpoint on life.










Okay...now for the rest of the story.

I saddled up Betsy about 1:00pm contemplating a short trip to Hyde Park and flooded her on trying to crank her up. This happened once before but is a very rare thing. I let her sit awhile then tried again, but, alas, to no avail. Upon waiting over thirty minutes I tried again and, again, she wouldn't crank. Thankfully, Bob's driveway slopes downward to a road which slopes even more. We got her headed down and by the time I was halfway down the hill she fired up and off we went. At least until stupid showed up.

About five miles out of Sharon, CT I'm thinking I should check the oil because I didn't get it changed yesterday. So I found this station with a wide pullout area and pulled in. I popped the oil filler cap off and got out my oil in anticipation of needing some when I was very pleasantly surprised to find none needed. This isn't totally surprising because, as I said earlier, it is a very small leak. But the problem(s) begin here.

I was preparing to put the oil filler cap back on whenever a guy pulled into the parking area near me and yelled out something like, "Nice bike!" I looked up, waved, and thanked him, then reached down and stored my big screwdriver and channel locks (used to remove the filler cap). I then mounted up, donned by riding apparel, and pulled out, happy as I could be.

Pulling into Sharon, about five miles down the road I noted the smell of oil. I came to a stop sign and it became worse, then I actually saw smoke rising around me as I felt this pulsing, blowing feeling on my right pants leg. Looking down I note in absolute horror the gaping mouth of the oil filler hole sans filler cap. Yep! Stupid looked up to thank the guy and failed to replace it, then drove off. I was devastated.

After setting there a few minutes a lady on a Harley Davidson drove by and, noting I was in trouble, stopped to offer assistance. This is why I like motorcycle riders. They are nice people. Her name was Marsha and she is the local animal control officer. She lived just a block or so down the street so I saddled up and we went to her house where I met her husband Steve. They were just so nice. Marsha piled me into her jeep and drove me back to the place I'd checked the oil. Unfortunately, no oil filler cap. I purchased some oil in anticipation of needing some more, the we then rode back very slowly on the route I'd taken, but never saw anything resembling a shiny, silver oil filler cap. Didn't find any brains for me either.

By the time we got back to their house, Steve had found a plastic oil filler plug he though might "wedge" into the threads of the filler hole and hold until I could find another one. I tested it and agreed, so I replaced the quart of oil that had blown all over me and the bike and, after profusely thanking them, pulled out for Poughkeepsie, that being the nearest Kawasaki dealer.

It's time now for another grievance against motorcycle dealers. The guy had no filler cap in stock. Whenever I had stripped the oil plug I discovered that my local (Houston) dealers didn't stock those ($2.25 part for Christ's sake). If Kawasaki gave a ferret's fundament about their customers they would require their dealers to keep certain parts in stock. I would think oil plugs and oil filler gaps would be high on that list of parts. But what do I know? I've already proven myself an idiot.

I determined that the next closest Kawasaki dealer was in Kingston, NY, across the Hudson and about 15 miles north of Poughkeepsie, so I headed there, arriving after 6:00pm in yet another rain storm so I pulled into a motel to await the morrow to be disappointed again by a Kawasaki dealer. I have pulled the phone numbers for all on my route headed south into New Jersey. Let's hope I get lucky. The temporary filler cap is allowing some blowby and it's messy. I need this fixed. It's time to turn toward home.

Wish me luck.

Day 7 - Litchfield, CT

234 Miles today Woke to more rain and, knowing I didn't have very many miles to do, I lounged around in no large hurry to mix it up again with Mother Nature. I pulled out of the motel about 9:30 am marching dutifully south in search of sunshine and breakfast. Found the breakfast...didn't find the sunshine. Today was better though. The starting temperature was a warm 45 degrees instead of yesterday's slightly more chilling 40 degrees. Of course, forward speed exacerbates the problem somewhatRouting around Boston I decided a deli breakfast was in order so I set the GPS for Kelly's Diner in Somerville, MA. Pulled in about 11:00 for yet another great diner meal. The ride into Somersville was right out of the movies: tall, narrow row houses on tree-lined streets. I expected Matt Damon or Ben Affleck to pull up any moment in a beat-up old Dodge looking for a fight or a math problem. Equally fitting would have been Sean Penn and Tim Robbins. For those of you who haven't seen Mystic River, do it. First, it's based on the book by Dennis Lehane, an excellent writer. Secondly, it's directed by Clint Eastwood. Last, but certainly not least, are the performances by Sean Penn and Tim Robbins. Throw away any problems you have with Penn's politics. The lad can act! And I mean big time Act! Tim Robbins can as well. A very underrated performer who shows his chops in this movie. It's a complicated, twisted plot and you won't believe the ending. This is special stuff. Found Kelly's Diner almost exactly where the GPS thought it would be. Don't laugh, that's not always the case. On entering one is met by James Dean (Never Jimmy Dean...he's the sausage guy). The very clean and neat interior. I couldn't believe it'd cleared out so much while I was in there. When I entered the place was almost full. Hmmm. Let me think about that. Na! No connection there. And it was good! That's homemade Corned Beef Hash there, and plenty of it. That slab of home-fried potatoes must have weighed about a pound-and-a-half, and the eggs were just right. And most importantly, the coffee was good "diner" coffee. Not "french roast," not "decaf," and especially not "Latte WTF-ever." It was C-O-F-F-E-E, and it was good. As with my planned trip into Maine, the weather again dictates I cut it short. My plans were to ride into Newport, RI. I have been there several times in the past and have always loved the area. It was there the Vanderbilts led the swells of New York to build mansions back in the gilded age and has some of the finest examples of decadent excess in the country. There are also a lot of nice stores and shops down by the boat harbor bordering on Long Island Sound. But, the rain made this all a moot point. Even Rhode Island isn't beautiful in the rain and cold so I opted instead just to "touch" Rhode Island, gassing up in Woonsocket. (Don't they have great names for towns around here?) I was running a little early on my plans to meet my friends Bob and Karen K. in Litchfield so I thought I'd see if I could get an oil change for Betsy. Sometime back I overtightened the oil drain plug and it leaked. I ended up having a heli-coil insert installed, but I noticed when I last changed the oil it was leaking ever so slightly again. (I probably went braindead and overtighten it again.) Anyway, near Hartford, I pulled off the road, got the number for the local Kawasaki dealer, and called hoping I could get in to get an oil change. It was around 3:00pm and the service manager essentially laughed when I explained I was riding through and would like an oil change. You run into this whenever you ride like this. But it really frosts me. If I were a dealer and a guy passing through called me I would accommodate him. Why? To be nice? Hell no! Because I understand the concept of incremental revenue. This is money he wasn't anticipating and isn't going to get another shot at. The only reason I wouldn't force my shop to take such business is if, by doing so, I would miss a delivery of service to a regular customer. Twenty-minute oil changes don't generally fall into the root cause of customer delivery misses so you get my point. It's REVENUE you IDIOT service manager. And, in case you haven't been paying attention: THERE A RECESSION GOING ON! Okay...spleen vented. But this, unfortunately, takes on more dire, and ridiculous, aspects later. Got to Litchfield about 4:30pm and met up with Bob and Karen. It's been a long time and Bob has just recently recuperated from major back surgery and is doing great!!! I was tickled plump to death to find that situation. These are two of the nicest, kindest, and smartest people I know. It was a treat spending time with them again. Bob and Karen (Jim W. - you will be pleased to note that Bob isn't "tacking to starboard" as he was when you last saw him.) Their lovely home. The paddock area. I should have gotten a shot of Gilda. Gilda is their golden retriever and she's a treat.

Day 6 - Kittery, ME

205 miles today

Forced myself to stay awake late last night in an effort to thwart the rooster-waker I become on these trips. It was 11:00 before I pulled out of the motel though. Why? Because it was raining, overcast, miserable, and colder than a mother-in-law's kiss. I puttered around delaying my start as much as I could. At least it gave me the opportunity to download last night's blog entry...from the breakfast (if you could call it that) room and not, as you may surmise from my room. But, to paraphrase the most current of sayings, feces occurs. You call and they come to pick you up. And all for $5.00. Believe me, at these temperatures I'd have paid much more. The short ride across the lake cut 25 cold and wet miles off the trip. Good friends talking on the way across. I know what they were talking about. "Saturday nite we're going to have a few bee-ahs with the nay-bahs. Y'all come on by, A? And I thought these captains were master mariners. Even I couldn't get lost with this setup. About 12 miles from the ferry crossing I stopped here to don balaclava and woolen gloves. By the time I pulled out I was bundled up tighter than a Muslim virgin. One of the 74, I'm sure. The ride from here to I-87 in Lebanon, NH would have been a great ride on a clear and warm summer day. Very reminiscent of the National Forest roads in the Rockies. Lots of twisties and turns with the river switching sides as if it could never make up its mind where it wanted to be. But today...it was more barrier than a blessing. There was a light drizzle the entire day and, with the roads wet, you just didn't want to apply any power to the back tire on any turn. So, I crept down the mountain at the posted speed limit. My original plan was to turn north at Lebanon, NH to Concord, then head east through Lewiston, ME with the A-1 Diner just south of Augusta my target. But it was colder than a lawyer's checkbook, and when I noticed the Red Arrow Diner was just down the road in Manchester, a change in plans was in order. This means I won't end up in the Bath/Boothbay Harbor area I was also targeting, but what the hey...innovate, adapt, overcome. Arrived in Manchester about 2:30pm with a big-time need to eat, rest, and get warm. The Red Arrow was just what the doctor ordered. I took a booth (it wasn't a busy time) and started peeling off the layers. It took some time. I was warm everywhere except my hands and feet. A little water had surreptitiously entered around the back of my neck and that, too, wasn't very pleasant, but with me, it's the hands and feet. If they are cold, I am cold. I was actually shaking while drinking the first two cups of coffee. Looked like the DTs. But I settled down and had fried Halibut with french fries, and coleslaw and about five cups of great coffee. The food was excellent, including the coconut cream pie topping off the meal. As was to be expected with a place so touted, the food was not diner-greasy. The french fries were the equal of any I've had anywhere.   A very pleasant meal. It seems everyone has been here, evidently, it's a favorite haunt of Adam Sandler (a local boy, I'm told) and Bare Naked Ladies (they even wrote a song about it), and, of course, every politician who ever ran for president has been there caging votes along with a meal or two. According to the plaques on the seats, Hilary Clinton sat in the booth across from me while my seat was once occupied by the BNLadies. Of course, not at the same time. And it was the band that was bare, not Hilary. If you thought otherwise you've got her mixed up with her husband...again. Finished and, regretfully, out of delaying tactics, I went outside to saddle up. I felt like the Cumberland (college) football player in 1916, who, near the end of the game, was sitting on the Ga. Tech bench. Coach Heisman (yeah, that one), concerned that the player was shaken up, went over and asked him did he know he was on the wrong bench. The player responded, "Yeah, coach...but if I go back over there they'll put me back in." That's how I felt about going back into this weather. (Ga. Tech won 222-0, the worst defeat in college football history.) When I first tried to crank Betsy I got nothing. I mean zilch. Hit the starter and listen to the silence. This same thing happened the other night in Columbus. I think something gets wet and it just doesn't make contact at all. Don't know what makes it stop, but after sitting a minute or two it, eventually, gets enough of a connection to fire up. This battery is five years old so, perhaps, it's starting to tell me something. The only problem is, once it connects, it seems to have plenty of power. This will bear watching. Left Manchester all bundled up and, fairly warm for the trip north to Maine. I really wanted to spend more time here, but there's nothing I want to do in this weather, except get out of it, so, tomorrow I head south to see my friends Bob and Karen K. It'll be fun. They live in Litchfield, CT and it is such a unique place. I'm hoping, on the way, to meet up with Nomad Willie, a motorcycle-riding friend of a friend I was introduced to on Facebook. He lives in Uxbridge, MA. We'll tell tall tales about Fleeter.

Day 5 - Ticonderoga, NY

348 Miles today Pulled out of Victor this morning by 7:45 and after only about 25 miles of slab I turned south on Hwy 14 paralleling Senaca Lake, one of the famous finger lakes of New York. This is certainly no little lake, it's something like 35 miles long, formed by glaciers cutting through the earth as they retreated. (Answer to question: When is retreat a good thing.) This is really a beautiful area. Miles and miles of rolling hills, hundreds of vineyards, and little villages every few miles. Makes for slow, but beautiful traveling. Shortly after turning south on Hwy14, I went through Geneva, NY. It's a postcard town with great old architecture. I pulled over to view the lake then, climbing off the bike I looked across the street between two old buildings and saw this. This is the campus of Hobart and William Smith Colleges in Geneva. I suspect one can get a good liberal (probably somewhat with a capital "L") education here. The main building deserved its own shot. Betsy at the Finger Lakes. Lake Seneca In Watkins Glen, I noticed the sign adjacent. Naa..don't think so. I think I'll go down the street and buy some of the bad groceries. Better prices. Turned back east at Watkins Glen taking Hwy 79 through Ithaca then Hwy 38 NE to Dryden. The thought that crossed my mind was how much fun it would have been to take Betsy for a lap around the Watkins Glen track. Not speeding, just riding to get the feel of it. But, given insurance rules and costs I knew better than to pull in and ask. So I had to settle for another indulgence. Figured since I was on vacation dietary restrictions don't apply so I stopped at the Dunkin' Donuts in Dryden for coffee and fried grease with sprinkles on 'em. That hit the spot after three hours of riding. Couldn't resist answering a couple of work-related e-mails on my Blackberry from that lovely little town, on that lovely little road, through the lovely little hills. You get the picture. Took Hwy 11 out of Dryden to Courtland then, somehow, wended my around the area taking, at various times, Hwy 23, and 26, and 92, and 80, somehow ending up in Utica. I got back on the slab for a short time exiting at Fultonville on Hwy 5 to Saratoga Springs. It was creeping on toward 4:00 pm by that time and I'd made up my mind to spend the night in Ticonderoga, otherwise, I'd have stopped. Saratoga Springs is a great little town. Lots of little stores (and places to eat!), lots of relaxed, don't-care-about-the-recession tourists walking around (and places to eat!), and quaint little brick buildings, (and places to eat!), and great old stone homes. Yeah, and places to eat! But I was committed (or should have been). Got on I-87 for a few miles taking Hwy 149 to Hwy 4 then north to Ticonderoga. Yep, the famous Ticonderoga as in Ft. Ticonderoga. where I took care of business. Taking care of business on a motorcycle jaunt entails doing laundry every four days. The Hudson River is just outside of Ticonderoga. Pretty country. The sign said "Parking Area." My assumption was that it'd have a good view. I suspect cutting down the heavy brush went the way of budget revenues. I am seeing the effects of this recession everywhere on this trip. In all my travels I've never seen so many signs of shear financial distress. Motels and hotels are empty; For Lease and For Sale signs are everywhere; people are just damn near gloomy. It is not a good thing at all, and, unfortunately, I'm one of those who believe it's going to go on for a long, long time. When it rains, it pours. Well, not yet...but it's on its way. To continue my good luck, I'm in a motel that said it has wireless but doesn't. When I asked why the lady on the desk said they get it through Verizon and they've called it in and they may or may not get it fixed. When I pointed out that at check-in I inquired about wireless and said I wanted it and that I'd had experiences where it was promised and not delivered, she'd said it was "spotty" on one side of the hotel, but the other worked and she would put me there. Well, you can guess where they can "put" it. But it doesn't do any good. I'm here without wireless in my room waiting on the rain which is promised for tonight and most of tomorrow. But, they made up for that bad news by promising temperatures between 44 and 55 degrees tomorrow. When it rains, it...well, I've said that, haven't I.

Day 4 - Victor, NY

443 Miles today Wow! Yesterday was a head-banger. Managed to get the riding gear almost dry before heading out this morning. Ate the light continental breakfast (exactly which continent is it where they eat like a bird?) and hit the road. There was a real nip in the air, causing me to pull over after about twenty miles and zip the insert in my riding jacket. At that point, I remembered the third forgotten item: the long underwear. The riding pants were still a little damp and it was cool riding all day long. Sufficiently cool so that I didn't feel the need to brag about that "convenient" little breeze they provide in the hottest situations. The gloves were still soaked so I tied them onto the bungee strips holding my tent bag on the bike. That works great. After about 90 minutes they were as dry as a bone. The weather was cool with a brisk wind. I could tell when I got close to the lake (Erie), the wind picked up and had even more "bite." Pulled into Buffalo about 1:30pm after many miles on that bird-food breakfast. The only thing on my mind was the Anchor Bar, one of Guy Fieri's stops on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives. I don't know who the fat guy in the window is. Well, as you can see, I was there. The problem was that no one else was. The place was closed. After I detoured to get there!!! What a bummer. There should be a law that a condition of all restaurant licenses is they must be open on national holidays. And I was soooo looking forward to this place. Not my first disappointment. Disappointed and hungry I set out for Niagara Falls. Figured they wouldn't close for the friggin' holiday. I was right, they were open. Parking is $10. What can you do? It's like airport beer! Follow the mist. Falls would have been more impressive if I hadn't ridden through them yesterday. Kilroy was here! Passed on this. I got that wet yesterday and didn't have to pay a cent for it.

Day 3 - Columbus, OH

380 Miles You know how all those folks from Phoenix are always telling us, "But it's a dry heat"? Motorcycle riders are often like that about rain. Sprinkles are okay. In fact, in the heat they are welcome. But the bike rider that tells you rain is "no big deal" is either crazy or lying. You bet your bippy it's a big thing. In heavy rain you can't see, the water on the road brings thoughts of hydroplaning, animals start pairing up...in short, it's just damn uncomfortable, and not a good thing. And I got it here in Columbus today. In spades. It was drizzling in Nashville this morning when I pulled out. I circled downtown hoping for a couple of pictures of the Ryman Auditorium and 16th Avenue (great song by Lacy J. Dalton). But the rain changed from a sprinkle to drizzle, and there were about twenty to thirty homeless folks all camped out by the Ryman. I didn't want to stop and take pictures, let alone of them. Given the rain starting to come down they had their own set of problems and I didn't need to rub it in  (I find it just too, too sad). Besides, I wanted to beat the rain outta town. I noticed it was clear to the north and east and that was where I was headed, so I booked it. Again, all slab...but at least Kentucky and Ohio are prettier than the I-30 slab around Texarkana. For that matter, an English Bulldog is prettier than Texarkana. About 47 miles south of where I-71 joins I-75 outside of Cincinnati. Seventy-eight mph and sailing. The good news? The GPS is running fine and the XM radio is spitting out all the great hits from the first 10 years of Rock N Roll!!! That's good. Got to Columbus about 4:00pm, just as the bottom fell out. I learned later that one place nearby got 2 inches of rain within an hour. I don't know what I got, but it was more than I wanted. The water started piling up on the freeway very quickly and I could barely see through my goggles. I wear a pair of yellow-tinted goggles which fit over my glasses. That has always worked pretty well for me. But this time it was just too much rain. I pulled off the freeway and found a gas station and hunkered down until the squall blew past. Thought it had worked out well since I needed gas anyway, but, when I started back out I ran into another, and heavier, thunderstorm with lightning popping around me so I pulled off at the next exit and got a room. I still remember the stories about the motorcyclist who was struck by lightning while on the slab in Denver. And then there's past behavior to consider. Nope. I'm outta there. A look at the weather channel indicates I am in for a rainy spell through Thursday. And some cold. Oh well...Betsy's doing good, so onward.

Day 2 - Nashville, TN

638 miles today.  Did my usual while on a riding trip: woke the rooster and was almost on the road by 7:15am. But then I checked the air in the tires and was delayed. On cars, that's a pretty easy thing. On a Nomad with big saddlebags, it ain't easy. I actually have to lay on my side and contort myself to get the air filler tube to marry up to the nozzle. But, as Dolly Parten says, "If you want the rainbow, you have to accept the rain." Did that too. It sprinkled most of the day, but lightly, only once approaching something we'd call rain. Kept things cool as I "joined the slab." Met up with I-30 just west of Texarkana and spent the day on it. Took I-40 out of Memphis to Nashville. Evidently, I-30 died in Memphis and no one reported it. No mention was made of it among all the visit Graceland signs. To the left is my majority view today. Exciting stuff, huh? I'll take the high enema option. (Note: If you click on a picture it will enlarge, though for the life of me I can't imagine why you would do it to this one.) Nothing much to do while riding this stuff but observe fellow travelers (not the commie ones) and make suppositions about what they're doing and why. Example: passed a young lady driving a U-Haul truck, puttering down the road somewhere around its governed limit. No male, no children, just moving. Sort of a rare thing. Broken love affair? Marriage? Headed home to Mama? Just took a new and exciting job and is on her way to conquer the world? Probably not...they usually pay for the move for those jobs. Laid off and heading home for moral sustenance? That one's definitely possible today. I wish her well.  

Made it to Memphis about 2:00pm. Nothing much to say about that, is there? Elvis has left the building. Did see a guy in a pickup with a small barbeque unit in the back. Talk about hauling coals to Newcastle! Pulled into Nashville about 6:30 got a room and we're up-to-date. Moral disclaimer: I did not promise excitement of any kind. Hopefully, by eob (that's end of business for all who don't know Vera) tomorrow I'll have something to show and tell.