Gig Harbor Washington to Bar Harbor Maine 2001

We've developed a pattern. Mike's alarm goes off at 6, we ignore it till 7 and leave at 8. My legs were so sore. They really wanted a few more hours sleep. I had a lot of dreams and I think they all involved being home.

We made a good dent in the breakfast supplies in the motel. There were only a couple of cars outside, so we didn't have much competition. The roads deteriorated rapidly. I went through a bunch of crap on the side of the road, when traffic was too heavy to let me avoid it, and got another flat. Mike evaluated my tire's ability to pick up glass and how worn it was getting and I decided to put on my spare. It looks like it might be a better tire, although it's narrower and higher pressure, so it might be a rougher ride. So far so good.

The cool cloud cover burned off pretty fast and I was counting the miles right away. 99, 98, 97..., 39. I was surprised to see Mike waiting outside Mary's Uptown Cafe in Brown City, Birthplace of the Motor Home. They did have a menu, but their list of specials included tuna salad sandwiches, which appealed to us. We got chicken salad, but we figured they knew what was good. The waitress made a point of letting us know she was from Texas, confirming our belief that anything to do with Michigan sucks. I told her that I was born in Amarillo and she said that she was too, but she lived mostly in Houston. Mike told her he'd lived in Houston for the past 20 years and she said she thought he looked familiar. Small world.

The roads varied between alright and impassable. The only time it wasn't hot was when a strong headwind cooled us off. The people varied between rude and agressively apathetic. Mike suggested a new meaning for "Michigan" as in, "I've just had a bran muffin, some prunes and coffee and I need to take a big Michigan." Eight states and 3000 miles and there's not even a close second, Michigan is the worst. Mike's bike even suffered it's first damage on these roads. A spoke ripped out a piece of his rim and gave him a nasty wobble. He trued his wheel and thinks it might be ok.

Our goal was a LakePort State Park a little north of Port Huron. It's a pretty nice park on Lake Huron. We pulled into our spot as our neighbor was glued to Wheel of Fortune on a TV on the picnic table. He remained glued through Jeopardy and Millionaire. I know where Mom would be if she were here. I'm not sure what he's watching now because somebody's country music is too loud for me to hear the TV.

Mike's first order of business was to deal with his rim and drink a beer. My first was a shower, but I was distracted by Lake Huron. I waded in and it was so warm and inviting that I swam around awhile. Very nice. I showered then started dinner and drank my beer (Haake Beck! First time I've seen it this trip. I even put some V-8 in it. Mmmm.), while Mike hit the lake and shower. We made Lake Huron beans and rice. Not quite as spicy as St. Croix beans and rice, but good anyway.

We had a very nice conversation with our neighbors. (They had turned off the TV and were on the way to the bathroom, probably to take a Michigan.) Maybe all Michiganders aren't assholes, but I think they were the exception that proves the rule. I'm glad we'll be in Ontario tomorrow.