Why - Finally

Warren Zevon once said "We buy books because we believe we're buying the time to read them." I think my father bought woodworking supplies for the same reason. He was an optimist. When I first started sorting through the contents of his shop, I don't think I really understood that. The sheer volume of what he owned just seemed so crazy. But now I've been home for 24 hours from this trip, and I've unloaded the truck and started going through all the stuff I just hauled across the country, and I realize that it was only ever about one thing.

The lathe.

In the later years of his life, my father became a serious woodturner. Some would say obsessive. He was passionate about it. He made a lot pens (and bottle stoppers, kaleidoscopes, etc.) as gifts. He also worked hard to refine his technique and get good at making bowls and other larger items by attending seminars, classes, and conferences. I found out about the Philadelphia Wood Turning Center (Now The Center for Art in Wood) and bought him a membership one year. He was so excited about it that the newsletter just wasn't enough. He found excuses to go down there and check it out a couple times.

When I was younger, I'd often go down to the basement and help my dad with various woodworking project. In those days, he was more interested in furniture. We'd refinish antiques he'd picked up, or build things for the house. There's a photo of me somewhere using a sander on what would become the family room wall units. I was about 5. I'm pretty sure I have that sander now too. I'm sure most of time I actually impeded his progress, but he never let me know that. I also learned a lot of what I know about woodworking from him, and I've turned out to be a pretty competent carpenter.

By the time dad took up turning seriously, I was living across the country and had my own adult life to deal with. He and I talked a lot about what he was working on, but I never got to work with him on it. After he died, Ivan and I split a lot of his personal belongings, and each of us took things that meant something, but the shop was an open question. I would use most of it, but really didn't have the space, and getting it out here would have been a fortune. Ivan didn't really have the space either, and I don't think he was all that interested anyway. Over time, mom found good homes for almost everything, including the shop classroom at the local high school. That would have made dad happy.

There was this one lathe though that I decided I had to have. It was the smallest of the three (Yup, three), and seemed manageable. It was also the one that dad used to make most of the stuff he gave people, like pens. It just seemed like a good way to connect with him again, but then it got complicated. In addition to the lathe, I realized that I might as well take all the unfinished kits, pen blanks, tools, and assorted accessories. There was a lot of it. The pile of got pretty big. And it sat there. There just never seemed to be a good way to get that big a pile to California.

Then mom decided to sell the house, and this whole adventure ensued. I did bring a ton of other things across the country. Davia is already enjoying some of my old books, and Spencer dove into my Matchbox cars, but I finally realized that I could have lived without almost all of it. The lathe was always the thing.

So now I have dad's lathe, and an awful lot of kits to make everything from pens to hors d'oeuvre forks. I have to idea how to use any of it, but I'll think of him a lot while I figure it all out, and wish he were here to just explain it. 

Not coincidentally, dad was also a fan of a good road trip. We took a lot of them when I was a kid, including a cross country run. While I didn't appreciate some of them at the time, I seem to talk about them a lot now. I'm sure he would have appreciated how this all came about, and the end result.

Don't Try This At Home

Jon and I decided we wanted to knock out some miles even though I had to work Friday. He picked me up at 4:00 PM in Aurora, CO and we pointed the truck to Richfield, UT. It was the worst drive of the trip. There was traffic out of Denver, a little rain, miles of construction, and hills. Lots and lots of hills. Many of them required 3rd gear in the Ranger. My advice to anyone contemplating a 500 mile drive through the Rockies at night is - don't. We got in around 12:30 and passed out. At some point we ate some Arby's and bought expensive gas. It turns out that the gas station next to the "No Services Next 106 Miles" can charge whatever they want. Go figure.

There are some pretty interesting town names out here. Floy, UT is a real place. Danish Fist, UT is not. Danish Flat is, but in the dark I swear I read Danish Fist.

On the plus side, I-70 in Utah has mostly 80 MPH speed limits and we didn't hit a deer, despite several warnings to look out for them. Also, based on the current state of the windshield, we've made a real dent in the insect population in the mountain states.

I think we've reached the point in the week when it's just about getting this done.

Yes Toto, We Are Still in Kansas

Not the first NASCAR trophy

The ARDUN cylinder head

I've got some work stuff in Denver on Friday, so we had to make it there by tonight. There wasn't much time for meandering, but we decided the Kansas Racing Museum in Chapman, KS would be an interesting stop around lunch time. It's a neat place with several cars and a lot of memorabilia from the local racing scene. As usual, I learned something. Turns out that Zora Arkus-Duntov, before he went to work for GM and became known as the father of the Corvette, designed cylinder heads under contract to Ford. They weren't very popular for their original purpose of adding power to mine trucks, but became popular later on among builders of flathead-based hot rods. This place also has the very first trophy ever handed out in a NASCAR race, but as the owner Doug Thompson told us "I can't just leave it out here. It would disappear. That's a replica." I'm not sure why it couldn't be in a locked case, but maybe security at night is an issue for the building. The replica was a bit of a letdown. We did ask Doug where to eat lunch. His first suggestion was the deli in the supermarket outside the museum, but then he offered Southern Comfort "If you want a sit-down place."

Possibly the crime of the century
in Chapman.

The cheeseburger was passable but ordinary. Jon reported that the grilled cheese was grilled cheese. However, while we were in the Southern Comfort Restaurant, a cop stopped by to ask our waitress if she knew anything about the truck parked on the median across the street. It had been there over night with the engine running. He may be the only cop in Chapman, and this was apparently a lot of excitement. As we left, we realized he had found the driver, who it seems was just asleep in the back. It isn't clear whether this actually constituted a crime. I also enjoyed the fact that the owner of the restaurant communicates with both customers and employees via signs. These were two I have never seen before:

By the register.

This one was over the
toilet in the men's room.

On the way out of town, we passed a very large banner informing us that Chapman is also the home of astronaut Joe Engle. So it has that.

Here's a 3 shot sequence of a fairly new Ferrari being driven by someone who doesn't appear to deserve it. I have to assume if you can afford the car, you can afford the tickets. The speed limit on I-70 through Kansas is 75, and the road is flat and clear. We passed him in the Ranger, which I  as driving at a safe 85. Ferrari guy was wearing driving gloves. I have no idea why. Modern Ferraris are pretty well climate controlled, so the likelihood of his hands getting sweaty, or the wheel getting very cold, is very small. Jon took the pictures.

Look - A Ferrari.

Why are you taking my picture?

Gone in the rearview.

After leaving Chapman, we just kept driving. Turns out Kansas takes a while to get through, even with 75 MPH speed limits. It just keeps going, and going, and was pretty boring. We did about 625 miles today, but got to the hotel in time to see the Yankees clinch a playoff spot.

Kansas City, Here I Come

Around a month before my daughter Davia was born in 2006, I took a road trip to a guy's weekend in Phoenix for spring training. At some point during the weekend, I decided I needed to own a Waffle House coffee mug. They were not for sale. I owned that mug until it mysteriously disappeared the day we moved into our current house in 2014. I was drinking coffee out of it, and then it was gone. It has never reappeared. I am pleased to report that I have replaced it. They are still not for sale.

Really? A semi with one car on
it?

At some point shortly after heading out, I was sitting in the passenger seat and noticed this Toyota FJ40. I like FJ40's, and I'm glad someone is probably going to save this pretty rough example, but that's a horrifyingly inefficient way to transport one.

Despite the sign, I didn't find this
guy very welcoming

Heading west on I-70 from Cleveland, Jon and I noticed a sign for a winery. We had time, and couldn't resist. We had a good time tasting at the Castle Finn Winery and chatting with our  friendly host Sonya. They make a variety of wine from hybrid grapes and fruit. Turns out the richest guy in the town the winery is in Jerry Forsythe, of Forsythe Racing fame. He was the team owner that Paul Tracy, one my favorite drivers back in the Champ Car days, drove for. Jon covered him back when he was on the motorsports beat. He also owns a winery in Paso Robles, but not this one near his house. We bought a couple bottles, took a few pictures, and decided that we'd check out US 40 instead of going back to the interstate.

US 40 was the busiest transcontinental route in the pre-interstate days, and ran from Atlantic City to San Francisco. I'm pretty sure that Henry's, where we had dinner last night, was on 40. The scenery was more interesting and at a bathroom stop I discovered this candy bar that I had never heard of. It had coconut. I don't think I'll ever have another one, and that's okay.

We meandered past farms and towns, saw cows and covered bridges, and made okay time until the "Road Ends - No Through Traffic" sign. That's the problem with these old highways. In a lot of places, they've just disappeared. Back to the interstate. We were going to stop at the world's largest catsup bottle, but realized that the route Google suggested was going to take us away from it, and we really didn't have the time, because we had wasted a half hour at the Blue Springs Café. According to any number of sources, they have great pie. As demonstrated last night, I love pie and will go out of my way for it. I had two bites of my banana cream and pushed it away. It was gross. For some reason, the plate was covered in some kind of sogginess and the crust had all but dissolved into it. The waiter saw I wasn't eating and took it off the bill, but what a disappointment. Jon ordered the same thing and somehow managed to eat his slice. There was a puddle on the plate when he was done. I have no idea how he did it.

Somewhere after getting back in the truck, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize in upstate NY. I picked it up and had roughly the following conversation:

????: Hi this is ???? from Alfred University. I was just calling to see if you enjoyed your time at Alfred.
Me: It was (pause) interesting.
????: Well, are you familiar with the Alfred Fund?
Me: I'm familiar with the concept. My wife fund raises for a college.
????: Okay, great.
Me: But I'm not sure I'm really a great candidate for you. I only spent one year there, and they made it pretty clear that they were less than enthusiastic about me returning. I'm sure I was just on a list you were handed, but you might want to tell your manager to take me off.
????: Umm, okay. Have a nice day.
Me: You too.


I called Elissa since she does this for a living. She confirmed that it was insane, and suggested that it was actually Jon's elaborate prank. He didn't entirely deny it. There's really no other explanation for the fact that they have my cell phone number.

I was determined to have one decent meal today, so we quit meandering and made a beeline for Arthur Bryant's. I've eaten there a number of times over the years, and it never disappoints. Some have called it the best barbecue in the country. Who am I to disagree? (At some point recently the health department apparently disagreed, but they've resolved those issues.) Seriously, the brisket just melts in your mouth. I was so eager to get started that took 2 bites before remembering to take a picture for you all. I ate a brisket sandwich, and then decided since I had only eaten a candy bar, a banana, and two bites of pie since breakfast, I would get a plate of burnt ends. I may be on the verge of The Simpsons' infamous Beef Poisoning. I am happy. Also, I ate a banana today, which qualifies it as the healthiest day of the trip.


Total mileage today is unknown at the moment, but somewhere around 540.

Roll Out

Last night turned out to be a late one, so I didn't update. I'm sure that it was very trying for you all to get through the day without knowing what Jon and I ate. I'll catch you up, but fair warning, this will be a long one since it covers both days. Before I get started though, I'll give a plug to Jon's competing blog on the same trip, which can be found here - http://psychoroadtrips.blogspot.com/. He's made a bit of a career out of being a co-driver lately, so you can also learn all about his adventures through Alaska and the Yukon if you're curious.

Jon, Mom, and Me

We started Monday early in Becket. Sunday night we had decided that breakfast at Joe's was a good start to the trip. It was supposedly the inspiration for Norman Rockwell's The Runaway, but this article seems to dispute that. Either way, it is a Berkshires institution, was a favorite of my dad's, and is near the on ramp to the Mass Pike. It is all of those things. Unfortunately, it is not a very good diner. I think the place survives on nostalgia, or because of a lack of better options.

On the way in though, we got an opportunity to stop and explore the curious shed sales lot across the street from the Outlet Mall. I was intrigued by the idea of a finance plan for a shed. Repo'ing them must be a nightmare. If the finance company has to come get one in the dead of night for non-payment, do they get all the stuff inside? Do they auction it off? Will there be an A&E show? 

My tuna sanwich

The goal for the day was to get to Rochester in time to eat a DiBella's sandwich before heading on to the RIT campus, where I was going to drop in on a class in my old program, have some work-related meetings, and then meet up with a couple of my old professors. We got a bit backed up and I wound up having lunch on campus with Nitin Sampat instead, which was great. Jon made up for the DiBella's miss later. It was also good to catch up with Scott Williams, who met us for a beer after my meetings. I neglected to take any pictures at all at RIT, but couldn't believe the place. I haven't been there in about 10 years, and I think there are as many buildings that have gone up in that period as there were total when I was a student.

The massive new DiBella's

Once we did get to Dibella's, I realized that it has gone through roughly the same transformation as RIT. It used to be a single location sandwich shop in a strip mall by campus. Great bread, which makes great sandwiches. In addition to a vastly larger and fancier space in Henrietta, they now have a whole bunch of locations. More on that later. I was raving about this sandwich, so we pushed off our departure to have one for dinner. Jon actually had two, which I'm pretty sure validates my opinion of the place. And then we headed to Cleveland. It was an uneventful drive, but got us in at midnight.

Oh, and as we pulled off the highway, what was right across the street from the hotel? One of those new Dibella's locations.

Total mileage for Monday: 565

We decided to get some sleep since the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame doesn't open until 10. The idea was to get there when it opened, and then get out of Cleveland in time for a decent dinner. Didn't happen. Turns out there were a few things that we each needed to get done and we finally decided that instead of lunch in Cleveland after the museum, we'd eat a big breakfast and skip lunch to get back on schedule. So that took us to this place, which the desk clerk at the hotel suggested:

Jon and I have both lived in SoCal for quite some time now, and neither one of us could figure out what was remotely L.A. about it. They didn't even offer to put avocado on anything. Once again, a generally disappointing breakfast. Jon was a little sick. I got them back by changing my T-Shirt in the parking lot after getting yolk on it. I'm sure they enjoyed watching that.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was better than expected. The place has been mired in controversy and seems to have totally arbitrary criteria for induction. Green Day is inexplicably in, but Dire Straits, Yes, The Cars, and Warren Zevon are not. Despite my feelings on those and many other choices, it was an entertaining and informative way to spend a chunk of a day in Cleveland. The Herb Ritts exhibit was particularly outstanding, and I picked up a few new bands that I have to find out more about. Did you know that Eddie Vedder once played in a band with the Finn Brothers to support Oxfam? Neither did I, but if anyone's got a copy of the live recording they released in 2001 I'd love to hear it.

It turns out that the truck isn't getting great gas mileage. I haven't bothered to figure out the exact MPG, because I really don't care, but range is under 250 miles on a tank. We've been trying to top up before long stints to minimize stops. The BP between the HOF and the I-70 ramp has to be the worst gas station in Cleveland. It is right in the middle of downtown, and appears to be busy but includes the following outstanding features:

- A port-a-potty for a bathroom.

- A padlock on the port-a-potty, so you have to get the key and hold onto both the key and the lock while using the port-a-potty.

- No functioning card readers at the pumps

- Not enough coffee to fill a large size cup at 3:00 PM on a Tuesday.

On the upside, they had Slim Jims, and so in a nod to my dad, I ate one. When we were kids and went on a road trip, it seemed like every time we stopped for gas, everybody got a Slim Jim. When I moved into my first off campus apartment in college and we hit Costco so my parents could help me stock up on groceries, my mom actually loaded me up with groceries. My father's contribution to the cart was a box of Slim Jims. So, partially gassed up with the $20 worth they could sell me from the counter, we headed to Cleveland.

Since we were running way too late for dinner in Indy, we started researching for something halfway, and found Henry's outside of Columbus.

Henry's

Apple Pie

According to the local at the end of the counter, it has been there since the 50's, when the road it is on was the main East/West thoroughfare. It has probably suffered since the Interstate was built, but has survived on the reputation of the pie, which is well deserved. The corn nuggets were good too. Basically deep fried balls of cornbread batter. You've all seen Cars. So seriously, get off the Interstate and find something interesting. Use Roadfood.com or a million other resources. Yes, we've been driving on the Interstates, but trying to eat off of them. The sameness of the stuff you see along the sides of major highways is just depressing. Okay, off my soapbox.

We needed to make another gas stop, so pulled in at a truck stop/gas station. While I filled up, Jon ducked inside for what I assumed was a Coke Zero. He was gone a very long time, and finally emerged carrying a bag that was not Coke shaped. Turns out they had a CD rack. Do you buy much music at truck stops? I'm guessing you don't, because you are at least a little sane. Jon seems to lack the impulse control that keeps him from doing things like this, so I spent the remaining 2+ hours to Indy listening to Vanilla Ice, The B-52's, and Debbie Gibson. The B-52's were fine, and Debbie Gibson was tolerable. It is remarkable to me that there is a record executive out there somewhere that thought

releasing Vanilla Ice into the world was a good idea. I am sure that Elissa will chuckle at this, since she finds his shows on HGTV amusing. I assure you that his music is not, but the passenger controls the music selections. (A note about Jon - He actually has very good taste in music. He was being ironic and/or trying to torture me. I think.)


Finally, we rolled into Indy after another full day.


Total mileage for Tuesday: 352


-

Load Up

I got some much-needed sleep, and mom and I headed over to the Sherwood Shoppe for breakfast. 

If you can get past the pretentious spelling of the their name, this place makes a good breakfast. They also sell bait.

They have great muffins, so I had to eat one. If Elissa is reading this, she is now irritated that she didn't get one. Her irritation will hopefully be reduced by the fact that since they were out of cinnamon apple, we had to eat blueberry. I'm also fairly certain that if I brought it home it would be completely disgusting by the time I got there. 

We spent the morning organizing and getting everything outside for loading. I grabbed Jon at the Lee Premium Outlets, which I never knew was a standard stop on the Peter Pan bus route from Springfield to Albany. He stocked up on Coke Zero for the trip and we headed out to Becket. The run into Lee gave me a chance to put a few miles on mom's SL. It was actually warm enough to put the top down on way home. At the house, Jon perused my musical acquisitions and declared them "less obscure than he expected." I'm a little disappointed with myself for that.

We got to work loading, and it wasn't too bad. I even managed to fit dad's banjos, which I swear I'll learn to play. 

There's still room for our luggage and nothing is in the cab yet. As I write this, I'm surrounded by a few odds and ends that will be added early tomorrow morning, and then we're off to Rochester. 

I'll add a few notes here about my experiences blogging thus far. Since my laptop broke shortly before leaving, I have my IS department's floating loaner. It has almost no software installed, and the wrong security settings, so I can't install any. Among other things, it has no image editing software of any kind. Even the Windows photo editor is missing, which seems impossible. I'm also stuck with IE, and Blogger's photo upload system doesn't seem to agree with it. I have been using my iPad with some success, but was still having trouble with adding photos. Turns out I'm kind of an idiot and didn't think to look for a Blogger app. I got that sorted, but had also decided to shoot pictures on a real camera rather than my phone, which led to some complications since it isn't easy to get images from a camera to an iPad. Unless of course you have a card reader that plugs into the iPad. Jon does, which seemed like a great solution, until we realized it was for the old Apple connector. Mom came up with an adapter that she uses on one of her docking stations, and we finally got the whole thing working. I hope all 9 of you reading this are enjoying it. I've been tearing my hair out.

A Little Entertainment

I landed at Newark a little after 5 this morning and thanks to the surprisingly effective NJ Transit was sitting down for breakfast at the Market Diner by about quarter to 7. Not bad timing considering the walk from Penn Station. Midtown early on a Saturday was a new experience for me, and it was pretty eerie actually. Went across the street to meet Cate and we headed to Northampton.

The first iPod wasn't introduced until 2001, so it would be more than a little unfair to expect that the stereo in the Ranger would have any provision for connecting one. Luckily, CD players were pretty standard equipment by then, so I've got one of those. Also luckily, Northampton, MA has a great record store in Turn it Up. It's in a basement with a low ceiling, and down a surprisingly unsafe flight of stairs. In a nutshell, my kind of place. Whenever I'm in town, I always make a pilgrimage. In addition to well-priced used CD's, they have a solid selection of vinyl, but that wasn't going to do me much good on a road trip so I focused on the CD bins. There's also an outpost of Newbury Comics here, where I generally find something I can't live without.

When I stopped by a couple months ago after buying the Ranger, I stocked up and left a pile at my mom's house in preparation, but realized that I probably didn't have enough tunes to get all the way across the country. Since there's big parts of the country where radio choices consist of Rush Limbaugh and Christian stations, another trip was in order today while I was at Ivan's. Here's the result:

It's a pretty eclectic collection, and according to my very rough calculations, about 100 hours of music, which should be sufficient to get us all the way to California. With any luck, the bulk of it won't be terrible, but there are some titles here that fall into the somewhat experimental category for me. As in "I think someone I trust likes these guys. I guess I'll check 'em out." Or "Hmm, I remember liking that song. I wonder what the rest of their catalog sounds like." 

On a related note I'd welcome any record shop recommendations along the route. A long time ago I spent a lot of time at The Record Archive in Rochester, but I don't think we'll have time during our brief stop there.