Hangover; Moving Day! Beamer Drivers; Udon; Indiana; “Hey, you’re in my spot”

Suzanne awoke this morning to a serious hangover, but not from excessive wine tasting. Yesterday’s S.O.A.R! Workshop was physically draining (but emotionally exhilarating).  Everyone commented how much love was present.  "The day after” is always a day for recovery. Her definition of “recovery” is a bit different than mine. We had a quick breakfast; one no-cal scone with ¼” sugar icing, yogurt, and coffee - she had the cake part and I had the icing. Then we suited up, Suzanne in bike jersey and shorts, and running gear for me. 20 miles later for her, and 10 for me, we showered and saddled up The Bus for our next long leg of the tour.

Speaking of food, lunch was Japanese Udon, or noodle soup, in this case with pork. It was oishi, Japanese for "delicious". Having lived in Japan, we are both in love with its cuisine... well, most of it, anyway. If you’ve never tried natto, fermented soybean paste, take my advice and skip it.   

We rolled through Chicago in light Sunday traffic. It was a beautiful, clear, cool sunny day, and the Windy City’s skyline was most impressive. Because of our Navy backgrounds, neither one of us has spent a lot of time in big cities, but Chicago looked inviting. Unfortunately, we hadn’t had time this trip to get into downtown for dining or sightseeing; maybe next trip.  Suzanne is ready to come back anytime.

I have to mention one particular group of automobile drivers who have gotten my attention by often displaying little or no regard to speed limits, lane changing etiquette, courtesy, etc. I'm talking about drivers of BMW's. There are a lot of them in this area, and we have yet to pass one in the slow lane. I think that when they order their cars, they get a special lesson in aggressive driving, pedal-to-the-metal right foot exercises, and general anti-social behavior. I'm sure none of my readers who own Beamers fall into this class of miscreant, so please do not feel offended. (On the other hand, if you do fall into this group, then please feel free to feel offended.) 

On a break (we stop every 90 minutes or so to stretch our legs and change drivers), the puppies both rolled onto their backs for a belly rub. Suzanne likes to say that we can only have two dachshunds because we are made with two hands, one to rub each dog’s belly. Here am I testing that theory, with two very happy little puppies. 

Indiana is a state we have only visited briefly in the past, but we will be here for 4 days, two of them spent getting some work done on The Bus at the factory, and days 3 and 4 visiting an old shipmate of mine from USS IOWA (BB-61). From the time we crossed into the state, Indiana reminded us that it is a farming state. Herds of cattle and fields of soybeans and corn, many stunted from the drought, told us again of the unpredictable life of farmers. These elevators were impressive, but idle on a Sunday afternoon when we took a break. The entire hamlet (its name is actually Hamlet, population 820) was quiet, with only 3 teenagers with skateboards and a car or two in sight. Hamlet is not named after Shakespeare's Prince of Denmark, but rather the founder of the town.

As the shadows lengthened, we were still on the road, not arriving in Decatur, Indiana, until 8:00 PM. It’s still light - just barely - because we’re now back in the Eastern Time Zone. 

We passed Sweetwater Music Instruments and Pro Audio, where Suzanne had ordered her lavaliere microphone for her workshops. We had been very impressed by their customer service; they had called or emailed 4 times since our single order, asking whether we were satisfied and if they could do a better job. We were perfectly satisfied, and wished that we could have passed their business on a weekday instead of a Sunday so we could stop in and thank them. I think that there must be lots of very friendly, courteous people in Indiana. (And maybe not many BMW drivers???)

One of the few rough moments of the trip so far came just after we had pulled into a vacant spot at the American Coach factory, hooked up to power, put the slides out, and detached our toad (our Honda CR-V that we tow behind The Bus). As I’m standing next to the car talking to a fellow RV’er, a guy drives up in another bus and says, “Hey, you’re in my spot.” I looked around for a name tag, sign, or other indication that we were in someone else’s spot, and found none. I apologized and asked (very politely) how I was supposed to know that it was his, and he said, “Well, I left my car over there”, indicating a PT Cruiser about 50 feet away, not anywhere near the electrical pylon, which is the only “anchor point” for RV’s here. He got quite huffy and drove off to another hookup muttering loudly; there must be about 20 empty spots here, so it wasn’t a big deal. I suspect he may be one of those poor souls who are never happy about life, whether it’s raining or sunny, or if he’s rich or poor, healthy or sick. Following Suzanne’s training, I sent him lots of good vibrations. That’s the positive effect of becoming a New Age kind of guy; it's made me a much kinder and understanding person. (But secretly, inside, I wanted to say to him, “Dude, you are a jerk!” Whoops!)