From the Midwest to the East

The Midwestern RV parks are quite different from the wide open spaces of the west. The trees are thick and marvelous, often with a handy fishing spot nearby. In Effingham, IL the squirrels invited all their cousins to target practice droping nuts on our metal roof. The big bus next door sported a television in the basement (in the storage area below) pointed outside for liesurely viewing. They were pulling a large trailer carrying an SUV, then on a lift above the SUV a Corvette. So much for the recession.

We've been surprised at the number of travelers carrying dogs, often in pairs, usually about half the size of our Springer Spaniel Sam. However, one fellow had a couple of German Shepherds in his coach, and we even once saw a couple of Great Danes - and in a small trailer, at that. Some of the RV Parks now even have fenced dog parks where our little friends can romp.

As we've gained in altitude and calendar, we're seeing the fall colors of subdued browns and oranges with splashes of red. The northern New York mountains look exactly as they did during the 2008 Air Race Classic, the mountain tops obscured by clouds, low visibility and towers on the ridge lines reaching into the murk. Along with rain, of course.

We've at last reached our second destination, Babson College in Wellesley Hills, MA for Bob's 60th college reunion. The "49ers" are for the most part GIs who were just back from WWII and not your regular just graduated from high school boys. They were largely from New England where most stayed. Bob came to Babson on scholarship and the GI Bill, carried his trunk out to the highway in Norfolk, NE and thumbed a ride to Boston. Babson is still placed at the top of the business schools, and they regard their 49ers quite highly. A cynic might suspect that has something to do with their stage in life and generous support of their college.

I'm rather dreading the increased traffic we'll have as we head down through New York to Washington, DC tomorrow. The truck traffic has been huge all across the country, however, the truckers are professional and for the most part helpful. Bob bought a new whip antenna for the CB radio and we've learned that the truckers have their own language, as do the pilots. We were told that we had a "blind eye", a headlamp out. And of course they alert each other to the "bears". We've had only two mechanical failures on the trip, the headlight and we bent the whip antenna on some of the old bridge underpasses. In fact, I don't know how some of the tall trucks make it. There's lots of road construction, but that's to be expected as they squeeze in what they can before the snow flies.

Southward ho!