I made it to O – HI – O. Well, just over the border from PA, anyway.
After finally just saying “fuck it” about my house and taking at their word the friends and new tenants, who have said they are happy and willing to help me and clean the dump up, I just walked out the door. I believe they mean it, and so I left.
Of course, I came to that moment of destiny, when a cold rain was a-falling. That icy rain stalled traffic to, well, glacier slowness, so it took me hours to get to Worcester (about 60 miles out of Boston). I could have walked it quicker. By the time I got that far, to Sturbridge actually, there were white out conditions, and my wipers had become so caked with ice they were beyond ineffectual. I bailed on the driving and slept in Sturbridge.
At least, the psychological barrier of not leaving the house (like for the last 10 years) was breeched. I woke up to bright sun (and fucking freezing temperatures).
So, today I cranked out about 500 or so miles and made it from Western Mass through parts of Connecticut and Upstate NY and across the whole length of Pennsylvania. Now I sit in a pretty damn dumpy room at the “Tallyho,” whose motto is “Over 600,000 Satisfied Guests.” Makes you wonder about folks, who apparently unlike me are easily satisfied.
I had to pay a deposit for the key, the telephone and a remote with dead batteries. But, for 30 bucks or so and considering there’s coffee in the lobby, I’m more amused than anything. I love the fact that I paid deposits on various portable items of technology that are essentially worthless to me. Just signing the deposit form I had about 100 times more expensive technology in each pocket.
I almost came out of my room with my digital camera to snap photos of the broken stairs doorknob and the empties, including the cardboard Bud “suitcase,” surrounding the hallway trash can. I thought better of flashing both my ‘spensive toys and my detached irony.
Speaking of irony, I quelled the urge to buy a Confederate flagged cap at the “Buckhorn Family Restaurant,” outside State College, PA. I figured it was more momentarily amusing and actually buying it would be hipster douche-y.
You’re going to be driving through Red America with Massachusetts plates. You might want to get a Confederate hat, or at least something country-musicky to wear in case you get pulled over. A “Bush/Cheney” t-shirt might save you some dough.
You mean, like, I shouldn’t wear my “Fuck Bush” T-shirt out here?
Hmmm. Must rethink my wardrobe.
(Seriously, I realized I wasn’t in Oz anymore, when I saw the first big silo with Bush/Cheney painted on it.