Middletown Indiana: Spence’s boyhood romping grounds. The house he lived in. He was very excited to be there again.
The girls swung on the swings at the park their daddy has so many memories of, and were wide-eyed as he pointed out the Actual Locations of so many of what they call his “boy stories”–the tiny drainage pipe he crawled through with his friends, the creek they got leeches in and paddled down, the hill where he broke his arm, the tree that his friend fell out of and ended up hanging from by her hair like Absalom:
(It’s the leaning one there. Ouch) “The Slanted Tree”.
And I took the cat out for a little walk, which certified my insanity. A couple locals did double takes and I decided to put her back in the truck. . .
Indiana had a sort of old-fashioned, mysteriousness to it, like it was in its own time. And I guess, come to think of it, it is, because they don’t do daylight savings time there. Lucky Hoosiers. There were Amish around on the highways we drove, although we didn’t see any. The “No buggies on the bike trail” sign kind of gave them away.
Tonight we are sleeping in Columbus, Ohio, at a very fancy Super 8. They were so fancy they cost an extra $8 dollars compared to other Super 8’s. But they have a large bathroom and a window seat that overlooks a wondrous view of the parking lot and our magnificent rig (who wouldn’t want to sit and stare at such a glorious sight, a gazillion tons of it sitting there in its radiant hickish hugeness–and amazing mysteriousness. I mean, who knows what the crap is under that tarp on that freaking monster trailer. We do. You wish you did! Ha! Stare away).
More photos of Ohio tomorrow 🙂