I know, the blog indicates 'Bessie and Me: My Travels on Two Wheels,' and I just don't have the heart to change the name. The accident may have taken Bessie's life, but it didn't take mine, and my wonderlust wasn't affected at all!I changed my travel plans and with the same amount of anticipation, but a longing for my two wheels, I embarked on my Summer Road Trip of 2012 with an itenerary that includes trains, planes,rental cars, a car trip with my Daisy and the Little Sprout, and there's even talk of a boat trip up the Alaskan Coast....I gave myself over to the journey.Waiting in the Orlando airport is always a treat; thousands of tourists (was someone selling stupid hats on the 13th??), joyful children sporting Mickey ears or'Thing One/Thing Two' T-shirts skitter about, yelping and jumping around their exhausted parents' who stuggle to schlep luggage through the terminal. I sat patiently for my flight to Indianapolis; thinking how many times in the last 30 years have I done this?? I watch the harried parents and although I wax nostalgic for my own daughters when they were little girls,I'm grateful it's not ME this time. The flight is uneventful - the best kind in my opinion - and my sister-in-law plucks me from the arriving flights deck in Indy with none the hustle and bustle of the Orlando airport....I like that too.My sister in law comments on how 'hot' it is ....I chuckle and grab my sweater because anything below 70 degrees is NOT hot. I wile away a perfectly wonderful afternoon with her on their patio, overlooking the cornfield and an emerging Indiana summer while we catch up on family gossip and children...perfect. Some things never change, some people never change, and that's the part of 'going home' that I have learned to count on over the years.Day two: I make arrangements to visit my Aunt Sib and Uncle Gene in Gas City...borrow Dad's Buick (damn, I miss Bessie) and instinctively, as if the route is genetically grooved into my sense of direction, I guide the Buick through Muncie traffic and hit old Wheeling Pike. The asphalt undulates through the corn and soybean fields that stretch right up to within two feet of the road....and I miss Bessie even more as I have to slow down for the deep curves carved into the old road. Small white, wooden crosses with plastic flowers are stuck into the ground inside one 'dangerous' curve, a testament to the life cut short of the driver who failed to heed the warning to slow down, curves ahead. I'm remembering how smoothly Bessie grabbed those curves last summer as the fecund smell of rich Indiana farmland rose up around us and the wildflower scented air rushed over us. Memories always flood back and fill my conscience with this ride; memories of other cars, Indiana boys on an Indiana night....coming home again always freshens those stale memories and I wonder how in the hell did the last 40 years just slip by? 'Like smoke through a keyhole.'As I check in with my Aunt Sib, I am reminded once again, that somethings and some people never change....thank you God. The warm, welcome embrace of a favorite relative is one of the best parts of coming home. The sound of a toddlers laughter fills the house as Aunt Sib explains....'we are taking care of.....' a great-granddaughter. I have two aunts who feel it's 'their ministry' to raise babies...and they do a great job of it....biological kids, foster kids, neighbor kids, grand kids....they all get the love in my aunt's house. I walk out to the garage with my uncle to gaze lovingly at his '66 Mustang which he has painstakingly restored....something about Indiana and cars, my family loves cars (and motorcycles). After a few hours of catching up on everyone's lives, I bid farewell and count my blessings for my family (well, most of them) and head the Buick back across Grant and Delaware county....Dad promised me a breaded tenderloin for dinner this eve:-)
July 3, 2013 Typical Pennsylvania Road I always hate saying ‘Goodbye’ to my Dad. He won’t travel since Mom passed several years ago, which means I don’t see him except in the summer when I travel North - or every few years during the Holidays. I’ve learned many things from my Dad; some of the lessons came hard, some of the lessons were difficult, and unfortunately, most of the lessons were learned much later in life. Had I paid attention the first time, my journey would not have been as rough, and my ability to grasp the many opportunities presented to me would have been easier. As my Dad and I both age, we get a long better, and our relationship had deepened after my Mom passed...for this I am grateful. I left Indiana early this morning - taking 35S - the fields were shrouded in a chilly mist as the sun cast a pinkish glow to the East. I was filled with anticipation that I was going to see Frank Lloyd Wright’s ‘Falling Water’ home south of Pittsburgh. When I selected
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