Day 2: We awaken after we should, thanks to comfortable beds and an exhaustion we didn't know we had. What greets us is a good meal and a happy dog. This is the way to wake up. We intend to leave by 9.30 or so, but end up bumming around until close to 11. We say our goodbyes and hop into Tim's car, dubbed Walter, and head to Indiana.
The car is named Walter. This comes from the fact that we started to call unidentifiable roadkill "Wally". Why did we call it this? Because we started a log of roadside fatalities to try and determine which road is indeed the most lethal. "Wally" describes something most unpleasant, and far too common, but sounds cute. What makes a "Wally"? A Walter, of course.
After a stop at an Ohio White Castle, we continue on the road, heading towards Indianapolis, where our Fong lives. 5 hours later we find our man crossing the street, surgically repaired shoulder in a sling and a silly straw hat on his head. We hang out at his house playing with swords and all sorts of boyish things for a few more hours, enjoying a rest, but also being completely exhausted. Then there would be more driving, but only after root beer floats and chili.
Indianapolis is, from what I have seen, a very nice city. It is clean and just felt fresh. The sun was shining and the architecture old. Almost industrial, very late 1800s feeling. Brick. I like that. Butler University was also a nice thing to see, and now when Fong refers to it, I can say, "Hey, I've been there. There was a very silly dance class going on when we passed by. Yeah..."
Tim and I would think that we had been to Fong's house on the first day for the rest of the trip, we were that out of it. No good reason either. We weren't on the road for that long. In fact, our sense of time would be radically altered for the entire duration of our venture. Somehow being in a car for hours on end makes you lose your sense of time. Hours start to blend together, and what is considered a day changes.
We would drive a few more hours after Indy to Leyden, Tim's family homestead. There we would find his cousins and unlces, some of them. They invited us to make S'mores, and we did. By the fire we sat and looked at the stars, talking every now and again, and wondering about the place where we now were.
For Tim, it must seem like home, a childhood memory come to life. I know places like that, and they always feel good. Like you never left. For me, it was confusing. It's always odd being thrust into another person's family, but there is something about a fire and a clear sky that just makes one feel better. Tired as I was, and I'm sure Tim was, it was a most welcome end to a long day.
-ccm
The car is named Walter. This comes from the fact that we started to call unidentifiable roadkill "Wally". Why did we call it this? Because we started a log of roadside fatalities to try and determine which road is indeed the most lethal. "Wally" describes something most unpleasant, and far too common, but sounds cute. What makes a "Wally"? A Walter, of course.
After a stop at an Ohio White Castle, we continue on the road, heading towards Indianapolis, where our Fong lives. 5 hours later we find our man crossing the street, surgically repaired shoulder in a sling and a silly straw hat on his head. We hang out at his house playing with swords and all sorts of boyish things for a few more hours, enjoying a rest, but also being completely exhausted. Then there would be more driving, but only after root beer floats and chili.
Indianapolis is, from what I have seen, a very nice city. It is clean and just felt fresh. The sun was shining and the architecture old. Almost industrial, very late 1800s feeling. Brick. I like that. Butler University was also a nice thing to see, and now when Fong refers to it, I can say, "Hey, I've been there. There was a very silly dance class going on when we passed by. Yeah..."
Tim and I would think that we had been to Fong's house on the first day for the rest of the trip, we were that out of it. No good reason either. We weren't on the road for that long. In fact, our sense of time would be radically altered for the entire duration of our venture. Somehow being in a car for hours on end makes you lose your sense of time. Hours start to blend together, and what is considered a day changes.
We would drive a few more hours after Indy to Leyden, Tim's family homestead. There we would find his cousins and unlces, some of them. They invited us to make S'mores, and we did. By the fire we sat and looked at the stars, talking every now and again, and wondering about the place where we now were.
For Tim, it must seem like home, a childhood memory come to life. I know places like that, and they always feel good. Like you never left. For me, it was confusing. It's always odd being thrust into another person's family, but there is something about a fire and a clear sky that just makes one feel better. Tired as I was, and I'm sure Tim was, it was a most welcome end to a long day.
-ccm
posted by CCMAS | 1:04 AM
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