On the Road again

Evenin' Campers! It's Silver Cliche' here again with you, getting ready to share new adventures from... well... we'll get to the plan in a few paragraphs.

The last time I wrote to you was in early October in the wee hours of the morning just before we evacuated our home to avoid the approaching Hurricane Matthew. After days of hurricane prep and sleep deprivation I was a bit punchy and worried sick. One loyal reader even wrote to let me know I had called the storm "Hurricane Michael". Michael... Matthew... whatever. At that moment it looked like the Big Bad Wolf and I felt like the little pig who had built his house out of sticks. Living by the sea didn't seem like such a great idea at that moment, I'll tell you. 

If any of you have been saying to yourself "Hey, I wonder how SilverCliche' and the family made out in that big storm... you know, Hurricane Michael? He never wrote again after that. Maybe he didn't make it." All I can say is: You could have called! It's been six months for crying out loud. We did fine, thank you very much. Between, our house, our son's and our daughter's there was zero damage. Z-E-R-O.  Oh, there were a few challenging days and nights. We evacuated inland to Okeechobee, Florida. It was the SilverCliche' caravan. There was Mrs. C' and me in the trusty Tundra with Romeo the Wonder Puggle, our 11 year old grandson whose runaway ADHD was the perfect filter to make hurricane prep and evacuation seem like a party (finally! everyone's excited like me!). The Airstream was in tow and loaded to the gills. We had every computer from the house, financial records, our last will and testament, photo albums, all of the food we could get from the refrigerator (I still contend that the green olives would have survived and could have been left behind... the brine had preserved them for at least ten years... they looked as fresh as Vladimir Lenin's face... a simple Hurricane was not going to spoil them... and that's the last I'm going to say about that) and two bags of Doritos. What we needed but didn't bring was a bottle of Scotch and a couple dozen fentanyl. Let this be a lesson to all of us. Once the hurricane is about to hit it's a little too late to think about how you've neglected to maintain a steady a regimen of pain management your whole adult life. I now understand those of you who have made a commitment to prep year 'round. I still haven't learned my lesson. Anyway... back to the caravan. Behind us was our son in his van with his cat and Labrador. 

Off we went to Okeechobee. We were able to get a room at the Holiday Inn for our son. The rest of us: Mrs. C', ADHD-boy, the Puggle, the Lab, the cat and I stayed in the parking lot in the Airstream. There are many legendary tests of human strength and endurance. The "iron man" triathlon... the ascent of Everest without supplemental oxygen... the Native American's traditional Sundance ceremony and that crazy thing National Geographic used to feature where Pacific Islanders would jump off a 100' tall tower made of lashed sticks with a vine tied to their ankles. I think they were the bungee tribe. I should probably fact check references like that in the future. Forget all of those feats. Consider the challenge of spending a windblown night in a 200 sq ft home with two adults, the human ricochet and three pets. Let that sink in a minute. Imagine 3:00 AM... the  peak of the storm. I'm still waiting. Remember, there's no pain medication onboard. Oh, there it is! Thank you. Now that I have your sympathy let me note that I'm still waiting for a call from the White House about that Medal of Freedom they hand out casually to mere comedians and documentary filmmakers. Jokes and blurry black and white pics set to solo piano music and Alec Baldwin voice-over tracks don't bring freedom... I'll show them what it takes to hold America together.

Now that I have that off my chest, let me get back to the business at hand. SilverCliche' and the open roads of America. I can almost smell it!

Normally I give you a couple of days to get prepared for the resumption of our particular brand of daily travelogue. I recognize that a swift transition from regular readings of the New York Times or JK Rowling to "SilverCliche' on the Road" might invoke whiplash... or nausea. Well, fasten your seat belts... we left today.

We don't have a title for this trip. Last year was the "Grand Canyon" trip and our undocumented trip to visit family in Maryland and Pennsylvania. The year before that we did the "Yellowstone" trip and the "Atlantic Coast" (Maryland to Florida). I guess I better name this one... quickly. How about "places revisited"? I think I like that. I also think I know how kids get some crazy names like Moon Unit or Apple. "What... you need the name now? Uh.... well.... Moon Unit!"

Here on Night 1 we are embracing the theme. I'm writing from the Stephen Foster Folk Culture Center State Park near White Springs, Florida. We stayed here on our first night out on our first long trip. June, 2015 on the way to Yellowstone. We were eager and bright faced. We had packed marshmallows, mountain bikes, a spotting scope for birding, charcoal, skewers and every other known camping tool cliche'... yes, a Swiss Army Knife... yes, Bear Spray... just stop, OK? Now, 30 states, 20-something thousand road miles, hundreds of camping nights, scores of trips to the "dump station" and a couple of marital disputes on how best to back the trailer into a tight campsite we have changed. At least a couple of times in the past 48 hours one or the other of us (ok... it was me) held up a previously sacred camping accoutrement and said "you're not going to make me pack this piece of crap and drag it through 20 states are you? We've not used in in the last 20 we've visited!" Sadly, I think we are traveling heavier than ever this trip.

The trip today was generally uneventful and unnewsworthy. I have yet to take the first pic of the trip. Hopefully tomorrow. In the only mind altering aspect of travel to the far north of Florida (aside from temps that peaked at 99... its APRIL people!...) I had an eyeopening encounter with Ocala, Florida. Now, in my experience, Ocala is best compared to... oh... maybe Calcutta or Cleveland. You know, a city that's past it's peak or maybe never had one. In fairness to the Ocalites (or whatever the hell they call themselves), that impression was developed from transiting Ocala on I75. If states ever start selling naming rights to interstates this offensive piece of pavement is likely to be called the "Taco Bell Expressway". Yes... I do realize that term already has a medical meaning. The irony would be lost on nobody. So, today, thanks to an accident on I75 somewhere near the exit for Ileum, FL and the helpful guidance of Waze running on my iPhone we got off the TBE and headed northwest. What a difference. We were in spectacular horse country about 2 miles off the interstate. I'm pretty sure Thurston Howell the Third's descendants still live on his old horse ranch somewhere near where we drove and spend their days dreaming that the foal their prize mare just dropped will win the 2019 Kentucky Derby! There were no McDonalds in that stretch. There were, however, specialized hay businesses with signs like farm stands usually have advertising the fresh varieties on hand. I don't even know what "peanut hay" is, but as of today I know where to get it. I'm sure that somewhere near our route was even Hay College. I can picture their cheerleaders encouraging the team with chants of "Hay U", "Hay U". Ok, that was low even by my standards. Forgive me, I'm a bit rusty and I promise to do better tomorrow. Oh... and truthfully... there was even a billboard for a stall mucking business. Since this is a family oriented blog I won't tell your their corporate slogan.

So, on to the Stephen B. Foster Folk Culture Center State Park, which must have the longest name in US state park history. I suspect it was named by a sign painter. ("We'll be rich!"). I share details tomorrow since I'm beat from all the prep and four hours of slinging the Cliche' in the heat through towns like Ocala, Duodenum and Jejunum.

Where from here? Well, we will move briskly (that's our 4 driving hour per day pace) west from here across Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas and just the northeast corner of New Mexico before our first destination... our niece's house (ranch?) in southern Colorado. From there we'll explore the front range with three nights each in Colorado Springs and Estes Park. Then across Nebraska to our friends' farm outside of Omaha. Then we get some new states for our log book... Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan. We'll camp on Lake Superior and at the Mackinaw Straits in Michigan. We'll head south to go around Lake Erie (the Canadian Customs authority has a nasty reputation for dismantling Airstreams... it seems they do this without an eye to how to reassemble it and with the intent of taking custody of both the vehicle and the owner. No thanks/Non merci). Next will be our return visit to Buffalo, NY, then visiting my folks in Pennsylvania and the last destination to see our daughter and three grands in Maryland. The final leg home to Florida will include the entire lengths of Skyline Drive in Virginia and the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina.

Whew... that wears me out. I need a rest, so I'll wrap up and let you return to the Times or Rowling.

Oh, I almost forgot... you can follow us most every day (unless lack of internet stops me... ) with blog  posts at http://silvercliche.blogspot.com/  and our better pics are posted on Flickr at https://www.flickr.com/photos/131457232@N02/ . This e-mail is a one-time reminder to check there and future posts will be made there.

Feel free to share this with others... especially those needing a Rorschach test for their literary sense of taste (It looks like... um... a train wreck?) or those who forgot to renew their subscription to Airstream Life.

Later!

SC'