We've made it neatly through the first day of the trip, driving just less than 400 miles from Cooperstown to Mentor, Ohio, just east of Cleveland. A lot of people take the New York Thruway via Buffalo to make this trip, but I've always preferred the Southern Tier route, taking I-88 from Oneonta to Binghamton and there onto Route 17, which links with I-86 and goes almost directly west to Erie, PA, and then into Ohio. The four lanes are carved through endless rolling hills and woodlands with scarcely any sign of civilization. We saw plenty of green against the blue skies, except for the ever-present bright yellow goldenrod. Even billboards are pretty scarce on 17, and the first signs of modern society was the billboard that appeared almost immediately after we crossed into Pennsylvania, trumpeting one of the many businesses along the border that are willing to sell fireworks to anyone willing to use them in another state.
Apart from seeing the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame tomorrow morning, Linda is looking forward to crossing a big item off her culinary wish list for the trip. She has wanted to try two things for the first time--eggs Benedict and grits--along with genuine heartland barbecue. The barbecue will most likely be served in Memphis and the grits somewhere else in the final, eastward week of the trip. It looks like she'll have her Benedict tomorrow, as our friend Steve Johnson has recommended a restaurant that features an "Irish Benedict" with Irish bacon. So she's excited about that.
Today she got to live out another long-held wish for something she had never done before: give someone the finger. Yes, my mild-mannered dove, who would never wish ill on another human being (don't worry, she would harm a fly--she hates flies), has often expressed her desire to find out what it would feel like to give someone the finger, and likes to tell the story of a missed opportunity a couple of years ago when another driver honked at her for taking more than a half-second to react when the only red light within six miles turned green. Well, she had another good chance today, and she didn't blow it.
We were bopping peacefully along the highway, listening to Neil Young singing "Heart of Gold," when I pulled into the left lane to follow a black SVU making a pass. But the driver, instead of making the pass, slowed down to hover almost next to the right-lane driver. For a long moment, all three of us were going right around the 65mph speed limit, and finally the driver in front of me inched just ahead and. . .lingered again. I wasn't in a particular hurry, with my cruise control set at 70, but I wondered why that driver refused either to speed ahead so I could go faster than 64 or to pull into the right lane so I could continue on unimpeded. This impasse lasted two or three long minutes, until I had enough room to scoot over to pass that SUV on the right.
But no. The passenger, a man, gave me the finger as I pulled alongside, and the driver, a woman, zoomed ahead to cut me off from passing her. Game on. I won't burden you with the details, but we spent the next 20-30 minutes playing tag, passing and re-passing, boxing each other in behind slower vehicles, and generally screwing with each other. All in good fun, once we evened up the fingers. As I passed them while in the left land, I asked Linda if she would do us the honor of giving the driver the finger. She did so with a flourish, gusto, and a sweet smile. Next time you see her, ask her how much she enjoyed it. Let's just say that the Irish Benedict will have to be very tasty to be the highlight of her weekend.
Okay, if you're keeping score, we appear to have two drivers vying to see which could be the bigger asshole. Let's turn to a professional for the tie-breaking vote. One of the times I got boxed in, the vehicle we were passing was an 18-wheeler. The SUV pulled even with the front of the truck and slowed enough to stay in that spot, now going a few miles under the speed limit. I pulled behind her and honked the horn--leaned it for a good 15-20 seconds. She didn't move. I let that horrible horn sound fly for another 15-20 seconds, figuring that either she'd pull ahead or the noise would piss off the truck driver enough that he'd do something about it. He responded by pulling ahead far enough for me to zip in behind him and pass the SUV, starting the cycle again. A few minutes later, we were in the same spots, and again I unleashed that long braying horn for as long as I could stand it, two or three more times. Shortly after that, I dropped back a bit and watched the truck driver cut off the SUV three times, twice in the fast lane and once in the right land when the SUV pulled over.
At that point, the woman probably decided that I was even crazier than she was, and she fell back a good quarter-mile behind us. As we passed the truck driver, I asked Linda to give him a big smile and a thumbs-up. He responded with the same. Case closed. Neil Young was singing "Don't Let It Bring You Down." We didn't. Tomorrow we get to drive past Chicago, and who knows what vicarious entertainment that will bring. But I do know that there's one less item on Linda's bucket list, and it was everything she hoped it would be. Good for her!
(And if you happen to know the woman who drives a black SUV with the Ohio license plate #EQZ-1576, tell her to get out of the way next time.)
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