On Friday 7 May, the 17 day on the road, we left Cincinnati and headed back to John R's. John, Sadie and I went to a great restaurant/bar, Bushman's Brewhouse
The place used to be the local Nashville Indiana Country Club. They had a great band and being it was Friday, we ate a creel full of of fish. Large Red Stripe beer was the special so we also drank our weight in Jamaican beer. All went reasonably well except I guess that in my diminished state, I, maybe, committed a social faux pas with Virgil, a local "character". Virgil is a semi-recluse who has a collection of Indian Motorcycles in his barn. I happened to have on a Triumph Motorcycle tee shirt on and Virg made a remark about the alleged sexuality of people who ride English motorcycles. When I pointed out that Indians, for the last 10-12 of their history, were made in the UK, and therefore he must also like to dress like Richard Simmonds, he hit the roof. Fortunately for me, I had walked out to the side porch to check on Sadie when Mount Virge erupted. Apparently, John was the only target of opportunity at the time, so Virg unloaded on John. By the time I returned, John was saucer-eyed, Virge had slinked off into the woods, so I finished my Red Stripe in peace. John and I laughed our asses off all of the way back to the red barn.
Saturday, we loaded up the BRT and headed west. We drove through the rest of Indiana and then all of Illinois. Before dark, we crossed the Mississippi River at St. Louis and drove through Missouri. The Oklahoma Turnpike is to be avoided if you ever plan to drive that way. The road's surface is crappy, food and fuel services are almost non-existent and they charge yoy a toll for this. Typical for government provided services. Somewhere in Western Oklahoma, I pulled over to catch a nap. Being I was chomping at the bit to get home, I couldn't sleep, so we continued on. As we were driving through the Panhandle of Texas, just west of Amarillo, I spotted a small group of people walking through a field and wondered where the hell they were going. Then I spotted them, the up-tilted cars. It was the Stonehenge of Texas, The Cadillac Ranch. I did a quick U-turn and headed back. I couldn't miss this cultural icon.
Miss Sadie, always the art critic had to sniff the work. She was intrigued my the work.
But, was it art?
We'll let you decide. I managed to drive to Holbrook Arizona by Sunday evening and I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, so we hove to at the local dog friendly Motel 6. Monday morning, we got under way towards California and with a few Route 66 stops made it to Carl and Freda's that evening. Carl handed me a cold Mexican beer, flopped a few New York steaks on the barbie and we ate. Freda happened to have a few Jeopardies recorded on the DVR and put them on. Not conducive to a good social climate. I kicked their asses on the first one. I then really kicked ass on the second. By the third, Carl wasn't a good loser. That's good. Show me a good loser and I'll show you a loser. He put on his jamies signaling that it was bed time so we all crashed.
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