Trip Takes a Toll - Several of Them

Day 7
States: 20
Miles: 4979

The best day yet as far as states accessed.  Five states, all abutting the shores of Great Lakes.  Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.  Three yards and a cloud of dust territory.  Although in terms of states it was the most productive, it was the greatest challenge in terms of level of tolerance.  More about that later.

The day started with dire indications.  A storm had moved into the area, and the talk on all of the local TV channels and the Weather Channel was the severe thunderstorms moving through Wisconsin.  70 mile per hour winds, trucks overturned, 3/4 inch hail.  Friend Dan in Chicago, with whom I had hoped to share some delicious Chicago style pizza, texted me telling me that his new flag pole had been reconfigured to a pole with a 90 degree bend in it thanks to the storm.  Cool.  The local reports showed all of the counties affected by the severe thunderstorm warning as small highlighted boxes within the state.  The pattern was a perfect replication of my route out of Wisconsin.  I couldn't wait to get started. 

The rain was coming down as I packed up, so I went full rain suit.  Despite this it continued to rain as I departed.  Bolts of lightning striking the ground flashed to my right and to my left.  Bolts jumping from cloud to cloud above, propagating into dozens of cracks, flashed ahead of me.  At times the whole sky just flashed like a fluorescent light starting up.  But oddly, there was no thunder and no wind.  I forged on.  I was making pretty good time despite the rain.  The speed limit was 65 mph and I was able to maintain that despite the foul conditions.  I soon came to realize that I presented a hazard to the other drivers.  And not because I was screaming down the road like a crazy man.  No instead, I was the grandma who can't see over the steering wheel, holding up entire processions of cars wishing to get around and fly down the road.  It became apparent to me that Wisconsin drivers regard the 65 mph speed limit as a mere suggestion.  And a ludicrous one at that which is summarily dismissed.  Rain?  Who cares?  Cars blasted around my left and my right at speeds easily exceeding 80.  I was stunned.  In California, TV stations would be interrupting regular programming to go to their reporters dispatched to the puddles to report on end-of-the-world scenarios while drivers would be crashing into each other like bumper cars at the Beijing Six Flags.  But Wisconsin drivers are a different breed.  I don't think some of them even realized it was raining.  I sped up.  And prayed. 

The rain eased as I made my way into Illinois, the Land of Lincoln.  And bad roads.  Road work was present everywhere.  No workers, of course, but plenty of work.  Evidently the work consists of mixing concrete and throwing it on the road in an attempt to replicate the lunar surface.  I felt like I was competing in the Baja 500 and I bounced up and down fighting to stay upright on the roads surrounding Chicago.  I'm sure that my Loctite was tested and a few have very likely failed as well.  I made a mental note to check the tightness of every one of Herm's bolts. 

Apparently Lincoln was a big fan of toll roads, because they are everywhere.  Get on a freeway, pay a toll.  Get off the freeway, pay a toll.  Pull into your driveway, pay a toll.  

If you have any number of automated electronic passes, I-Zoom, EZ Pass, Gate Crash (I made that last one up - but I'm claiming copyright), this isn't a big deal.  Pull into the proper lane, slow down to 70 or so, fly through the booth and your payment is taken care of electronically.  When you're from California and on a motorcycle it's a little bigger deal.  Slow down, trying not to let your feet slip on the wet, oily pavement, find neutral, sidestand down, gloves off, fish for coins or dollars…..you get the picture.  If this were occasional it might be tolerable.  Problem is, such toll plazas are present, oh, about every half mile.  I decided that I better stuff some dollars in my jacket pocket to minimize the time spent fooling around at toll plazas.  This would have been a good idea had I remembered to zip up the pocket.  At the next toll plaza, I reached  in, realized that the pocket was unzipped, and of course, it was empty except for the coins.  Out came another 20. This time I remembered to zip up.  Until the next time to pay.  With all of the things to consider, once again I forgot to zip and and at the next toll plaza I had again been relieved of my paper currency.  Tolls are bad enough.  A 1000% tax in the form of flying money is not OK.  I rethought my plan, and just decided that I'd have to pull out the wallet each time.  Finally I had this toll thing figured out.  Until I got into Indiana, that is.  The Chicago area maintains real life toll collectors for those who must pay cash. But Indiana lacks the union clout that Chicago maintains, and thus instead of humans, they offer the Gate Crash Pass method or a vending machine type of payment method, which conveniently takes credit cards in addition to cash.  I watched the gentleman in front of me as he struggled with pushing buttons, inserting cards, removing receipts, etc.  When it was my turn, I opted for the cash method, since I still had a few bills (but not many) left.  The machine informed me that i owed $1.80.  I had two dollar bills, one of which was accepted by the machine.  However, my second bill was rejected.  I tried again.  Rejected again.  I would have rejected it, too, as it felt roughly like a used Kleenex.  Back to the wallet, where the smallest bill I had was a five dollar bill.  I inserted that, it was accepted.  I hit the button and took my receipt, and waited for my change.  And waited.  And waited.  I hit buttons, I banged on the machine, I cried out.  But no change was forthcoming.  Well, I had already donated a pair of twenties, what's another six?  My rationalizing confirmed, I took off and vowed that I would find an EZ Pass if I ever do something like this again. 

Soon I came to South Bend.  This is a terrible place in my mind, for it is the home of Notre Dame University.  I hate Notre Dame with a passion that is unmatched. No time to get into that here, but I needed to set foot in Michigan, and the border between Indiana and Michigan was the closest at the South Bend exit.  I exited, managed to pay the correct toll for once, and proceeded in the direction away from the despised Golden Dome.  Michigan was only a couple of miles up the road.  I stopped, took a picture, and got back on my way back to the Indiana tollway.  On the way south, I came across a Harley brother who was pulled over to the side of the road.  I obeyed the biker code that says you pull over to see if your brother is OK or if you can help.  It turns out he was just making a headscarf adjustment and waved me on.  I imagine he was a bit surprised to see that the filthy bike pulling over to help him was sporting California plates.  He pulled back onto the road and fell into line behind me.  As I exited to get back on the tollway he waved a thanks.  Hopefully he'll return the favor and honor the biker code himself in the future. 

The rest of the trip through Indiana and Ohio was uneventful for the most part.  The weather had warmed and the traffic had thickened.  The shear quantity of  trucks along the Ohio turnpike was remarkable.  I think there were more trucks on that road that there were bugs on my headlights.  But they behaved themselves for the most part and my hat managed to stay on my head despite the omnipresent big rig generated buffeting.  I was feeling pretty good, but soon that feeling stopped.  I was approaching Cleveland.  Cleveland is another terrible place for me personally.  There is nothing good to say about Cleveland.  I say this because I come from PIttsburgh.  I may have moved to California 32 years ago, but my growing years were spent in the Steel City, and I consider myself to be a Pittsburgher.  Pittsburghers hate Clevelanders and Clevelanders hate Pittsburghers.  In truth, the cities and the people are very much alike, but we've got the Steelers and they've got the Browns.  End of story. I tried to close my eyes as I passed the downtown area, but rethought the wisdom of that and peeked occasionally.  I passed the Browns stadium with some stupid corporate name - I think it was Massengill, I'm not sure.  I held my breath.  It was a horrible experience.  But I made it.  

Soon I was into my fifth state of the day, Pennsylvania.  It was getting dark, and if Beatrice was telling the truth (she is on a short leash, but didn't screw up once today), tomorrow's trip to New Hampshire is only about eight hours of travel so I decided that Erie would be tonight's stopping point.  Good timing.  I would have hated to have had to stop in Cleveland.  

Unusual things seen on the road today:

• Young couple changing their baby's diaper at a rest stop - in the pet walk area.