Road day

1.  Morning arrives and I don't feel rested. It's a travel day. I need to pack, rent a car and drive to Ohio. 

2. Started with a rented Kia and a buffalo chicken omelette at the Miss Worcester Diner. Then west through the Berkshires and pretty much the entire length of the New York Thru Way. Such beautiful country along the body of the Erie Canal and it's mother the Mohawk River. One is a slave, jacketed and shackled, and the other is still part wild Indian. There are classic rock stations on the air crossing Upstate New York, and I harmonized with Sting to Roxanne somewhere out by the Finger Lakes. I was a troubadour, without an instrument or songs of my own, trying not to get killed before I reached Bombay. A police chief and his command staff were quitting their jobs as I skirted Rochester. I was annoyed by the slow travelers in the fast lane who wouldn't move to the slow lane. In All-American-Buffalo the traffic got heavy as the citizens left work. Beyond there, trellised fields with a crop I could not identify. Fall grapes draped on the fence at the rest area. Glimpses of Lake Erie, a visual sea, off to my right. And then the farm fields, silos, and deserted highways of Ohio as the sun came down. 

3. Now, I'm here living in a hotel room with the same layout and furnishings as the last room I lived in in West Texas. I am older than I was just a few months ago.