JULY 31, 2021 – Yesterday we arrived at the home of our younger son, Byron, and his wife, Mylène in Chester, Connecticut. They moved here recently from New York. As Byron worked the grill on the back deck of their new home on a wild, wooded lot, I said, “I know you don’t have to be told, but you’re a million miles from Brooklyn.” A million miles but only a two-hour drive. Our drive from Minnesota took three days . . .
As the miles rolled by, I kept mental track of sundry things along the way. Examples:
RVs the size of Greyhounds: (only) five.
Ratio of semis to automobiles 50 miles on either side of Chicago: 10,000:1.0.
Semis with “John 3:16” written on the back of the trailer: zero. (On past road trips, this seemed to be the mark (pun intended) among “Holy Rollers.”)
Semis with “John 3:17” on the back of the trailer: one—along with a brand-new set of white mud-flaps, each bearing a large cross wrapped in Old Glory and the words, “In God We Trust.”
Political bumper stickers other than our own: (only) six, including one in liberal code, “Voting Matters,” despite its expression of strategic concern among Republicans.
Huge Confederate flags in Loganton, PA: two. In this little town south of the Interstate and surrounded by prosperous Amish farms, we saw two rebel flags directly across the street from each other at the main intersection in town. We were confused by the American flags fluttering next to the Confederate flags. A little farther down the street fluttered a “[YOU KNOW WHO] IN 2024” flag.
Musicians coming from the Aspen summer music festival: two. While hauling our own stuff into a hotel Thursday night, I held the door open for two guys with a ton of luggage, including musical instrument cases. An Aspen sticker on a suitcase triggered conversation. The travelers were brass players, alumni of Eastman.
Brothers of MLB pitchers: one. At a rest stop in Wisconsin, I struck up a conversation with a guy who turned out to be the brother of Twins pitcher, Jorge Alcalà. I asked the bro why at this time of year he was wearing a Vikings shirt instead of a Twins jersey. “The Twins aren’t doin’ so hot,” he said.
Out-of-control trucks: three—one weaving badly back and forth across the corrugated guard line along the shoulder; my wife reported it to a state trooper who was stopped at the start of a long traffic jam. He said his job (ho-hum) was to help at the scene at hand . . . where, it turned out, two trucks that had collided—a shiny tanker, the back of which was badly smashed up, and a semi van lying on its side on the median.
Drivers violating speed limit laws: everyone.
Drivers pulled over by state troopers for violating speed limit laws: two.
Percentage of people wearing face masks while inside at a rest stop: 50.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
