800 miles of Observations: A Tale of Travels.

The morning began at 345am, when I awoke from a dream only to look at my alarm clock with a sigh of laziness.  I had set the alarm for 400am but awoke minutes before by some sort of miracle, only to avoid the menacing sound that would have radiated had I slept past 400am.  Coffee on, dog fed, dog outside, shower on, shower in, water on, oatmeal made, coffee poured, breakfast....this was the rhetoric of my brain at such an early hour.

I remember hitting the road at 445am on the dot.  Tank full of gas and nothing but the day to waste it.  Heading towards the sunrise, it heading towards me as if we were having a game of chicken, little did it know, I was going to turn first, and long before it got to me.  Changing my trajectory from East to North, towards the great white plains of Western New York.  Lots of traffic for such an early hour...I remember running with the rats and mice near Charlotte, them, racing each other for the cheese, me observing their every move from inside their clan.  What a feeling to know I'm traveling to my leisure, and them to the wheel.  Wytheville, VA in 4hrs flat...great time being made.

Then came the old man, Mr. Winter I believe his name was...  Western Virginia would be the first battle ground of our old rivalry.  I had seen victims of my nemesis strewn along the shoulder and medians of the interstate.  A pair of tractor trailers twisted, one of the cabs ripped off and shredded, I knew the Old Man had been menacing about these hills, and I would be no welcome traveler.  I could tell he had missed our rivalry.  A swing here and a jab there, "Old moves for and Old Man!!!", I shouted, as I accelerated around a curve and up a hill, constantly adjusting my steering to pull out of slides.  Even on my golden pony from SC, the Old Man had  been beaten.  This did not settle well with him, and he departed to develop another strategic attack.

After some time away from my old foe, he came at me again with another one of his old tricks, lake effect snow.  It seemed as if most of my travel along interstate 79 into Erie PA was as if I was floating on a cloud, or constantly surrounded by pillows, even though I knew if I strayed from the pavement, it would be exactly the opposite (or maybe not as the pillows would keep me cozy in my final resting place).  I made my way forward, cautiously navigating between the punches of my enemy.  Others went at him with zeal instead of strategy and respect, these travelers days are numbered.

New York State, Interstate 90, roughly 12 hrs after my departure.  Good time, considering myself and my car were beaten and battered from the onslaught of ice and wind the Old Man had unleashed.  The trip was almost over, and after seeing a few more fallen allies, I knew I had to push forward and finish this trip to show the Old Man my hard Northern exterior had not melted soft in the South Carolina summer.  A few more lake effect bands running across the highway and I was on to the next challenge, the surface roads of Cambria, NY.  Unplowed and unlit, my pony was terrified.  After an hour of treacherous navigation, more treacherous than that of the Old Man's Interstate Battlefield, we had made it back to the farm.

Beer, wine, and feasts awaited us as we rode in like the conquerors we had redeemed ourselves as.  Cheers.