I started from State College late morning and blew through the rest of Pennsylvania, determined not to stop until I hit Ohio.
That may have been a mistake.
I planned my first stop for Sandusky, where the Cedar Point amusement park is. I really just wanted to see the damn lake. The idea of a lake you can't see across is still pretty novel to me. I'm not even used to an ocean you can't see across -- I grew up looking at Long Island across the sound.
But the road there was a horrifying mess of Chili's, Days Inns and tourist traps. (Although that convention center/indoor water park/zoo/spa looked pretty cool.) So I turned around and tried to find a more tranquil spot on the water. That I did, at Catawba State Park on a little peninsula that serves as, it seems, nothing but a place to fish or get on the ferry to some of the Erie islands. I watched some locals fish for a while and kept moving. But not without stopping at Cheese Haven, which I had seen signs for for miles. They advertised 125 different kinds of cheese! with cool old-fashioned signs. The inside was .... disappointing. This coming from someone who calls cheese the food of the gods. Sure, they had tons of cheese (and wine and candy and salami) and free samples. But the samples, besides being set out in little buckets with no - no - toothpicks, were pretty awful. Maybe they had better cheeses, but wouldn't they put those out front?
And so I moved on, cheeseless but with its awful taste in my throat. I took Route 2, an entirely flat, entirely straight road from Sandusky to Toledo. Saw a nuclear power plant. Saw a million bait shops, one of which was called The Happy Hooker. Used cruise control excessively.
And then came Toledo. For some reason I just barreled into it, knowing which road I would take out of the city but having no idea how to get there. And that, friends, is how I got excruciatingly lost in the ghettos of Toledo, Ohio.
But I did see some cool big boats.
Once I found a highway I took it to the Ohio Turnpike. This, you may remember, is contrary to my original plan of avoiding interstates, but at that point I was frazzled and just needed to get the hell out of Toledo.
I kept driving for a few hours, thoroughly depressed by the overcast skies, a rest stop an hour from the state line and my basically unsuccessful romp through Ohio.
That brought me to South Bend, Indiana, where I am now sitting on a bed in the Motel 6. My plan now is to shower, gas up and head for Chicago, which is a little less than two hours away. I'll go to Minneapolis, and my next roommate, tomorrow.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Recap: Vagina Stadium
Wait, that can't be right ...
My dear friend Carissa, who is, shall we say, "in," got me onto the field and the roof of Beaver Stadium. Her boss, who took us in, called it hallowed ground and the "Mecca of Pennsylvania." Thing holds 110,000 belligerent Nittany Lions fans. Later, Carissa showed me videos of the student section at games. I'll be coming down for one this fall, if all goes well.
She also showed me the rest of campus: the creamery, frat row, the whole deal. Huge. Beautiful. I kinda want to go to Penn State now. Too bad I'm done with the whole school thing.
It's an entirely different world. I slept in her cheerleader roommate's room, which was covered in Penn State banners and logos. There was a poster with the legend of the Nittany lion on the door. The sheets were blue. School spirit. And I suddenly see what Northeastern was doing wrong: school spirit equals dedicated alumni, which equals cash money. So you don't have an entire village of unnamed buildings.
Between that and the drink specials, State College is something else.
My dear friend Carissa, who is, shall we say, "in," got me onto the field and the roof of Beaver Stadium. Her boss, who took us in, called it hallowed ground and the "Mecca of Pennsylvania." Thing holds 110,000 belligerent Nittany Lions fans. Later, Carissa showed me videos of the student section at games. I'll be coming down for one this fall, if all goes well.
She also showed me the rest of campus: the creamery, frat row, the whole deal. Huge. Beautiful. I kinda want to go to Penn State now. Too bad I'm done with the whole school thing.
It's an entirely different world. I slept in her cheerleader roommate's room, which was covered in Penn State banners and logos. There was a poster with the legend of the Nittany lion on the door. The sheets were blue. School spirit. And I suddenly see what Northeastern was doing wrong: school spirit equals dedicated alumni, which equals cash money. So you don't have an entire village of unnamed buildings.
Between that and the drink specials, State College is something else.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Cow ... Cow ... DOLLAR DRAFTS WOOO ... Cow .. Cow
I got to State College last night after several hours in the Pennsylvania Wilds with nothing but semis for company. I suppose that will be the trend of this trip. When I stopped about an hour from here to stretch out my right leg, I found myself in the parking lot of the Twilight Diner, a little place having a slow night except for its ice cream window. There was an Amish couple in the parking lot, eating in their buggy. Really. They parked their horse right next to the beige Toyota. My first Amish sighting!
The place was cute, and I was hungry, so I ordered a grilled cheese with tomato. Cheapest thing on the menu. It was fucking fantastic.
And then I was here. When people from big state schools tell me their campuses are in the middle of nowhere, I always picture UConn. For Connecticut, it's in the middle of nowhere. But the state's pretty fucking small, and UConn is only 30 minutes from Hartford. (Not that that's a blessing.) But Penn State is in the exact center of the state, and therefore not within hours of anything but cows, mountains and truckers. So now I understand. Middle of nowhere.
So why am I here? The destination cities for the next few weeks are based almost entirely on the whereabouts of my seven study abroad roommates. Carissa is the first.
She's been an incredible hostess, and last night fed me Yuenglings and took me out to Penn State bars with some of her film major friends. The drink specials here -- and, I'm sure, everywhere outside Massachusetts -- blew my mind. It was American microbrew night at the first bar, and I had a Golden Monkey for $3. They had other beers, like Blue Moon and #9, for $2.50. I almost cried.
Then we went to the Gaff, where Bud Light bottles were $1.50 and pitchers -- pitchers! -- of Captain and Coke were $5. People were sipping the alcohol with straws, a pitcher a person.
Then pizza, a smoke stop at one of Carissa's friends and back to her place (above a bike shop), where I promptly passed out on a couch.
I'm staying another night because my next roommate, in Minneapolis, won't be able to hang out Thursday or Friday. Apparently some people do have jobs, and can't just take off because I'm coming. Go figure. Also, I'm in no rush to tackle the western half of PA. I keep hearing how horrible it is.
So the plan is to head out for Chicago early tomorrow, probably with a night stop between here and there, and then on to the Twin Cities for Saturday. I want to stick to state roads instead of the interstates, which so far have been nothing but truck stops and farms.
And now, to the pool!
The place was cute, and I was hungry, so I ordered a grilled cheese with tomato. Cheapest thing on the menu. It was fucking fantastic.
And then I was here. When people from big state schools tell me their campuses are in the middle of nowhere, I always picture UConn. For Connecticut, it's in the middle of nowhere. But the state's pretty fucking small, and UConn is only 30 minutes from Hartford. (Not that that's a blessing.) But Penn State is in the exact center of the state, and therefore not within hours of anything but cows, mountains and truckers. So now I understand. Middle of nowhere.
So why am I here? The destination cities for the next few weeks are based almost entirely on the whereabouts of my seven study abroad roommates. Carissa is the first.
She's been an incredible hostess, and last night fed me Yuenglings and took me out to Penn State bars with some of her film major friends. The drink specials here -- and, I'm sure, everywhere outside Massachusetts -- blew my mind. It was American microbrew night at the first bar, and I had a Golden Monkey for $3. They had other beers, like Blue Moon and #9, for $2.50. I almost cried.
Then we went to the Gaff, where Bud Light bottles were $1.50 and pitchers -- pitchers! -- of Captain and Coke were $5. People were sipping the alcohol with straws, a pitcher a person.
Then pizza, a smoke stop at one of Carissa's friends and back to her place (above a bike shop), where I promptly passed out on a couch.
I'm staying another night because my next roommate, in Minneapolis, won't be able to hang out Thursday or Friday. Apparently some people do have jobs, and can't just take off because I'm coming. Go figure. Also, I'm in no rush to tackle the western half of PA. I keep hearing how horrible it is.
So the plan is to head out for Chicago early tomorrow, probably with a night stop between here and there, and then on to the Twin Cities for Saturday. I want to stick to state roads instead of the interstates, which so far have been nothing but truck stops and farms.
And now, to the pool!
Monday, June 25, 2007
DexCool Bad
or, How Procrastination Bit Me in the Ass Again.
I took the Malibu to Union City Getty today to get the oil changed. Had everything packed up, hot coffee in one thermos and cold water in another, my atlas on the passenger seat and my ipod charging away. I deposited some graduation checks, cashed some others, and was ready to go.
But the 'bu had other plans. Lou the mechanic told me she's leaking oil and antifreeze. He even shined a flashlight in the engine to prove it. Little puddles of green and red shone back. I swore.
Lou explained. DexCool, the favorite long-life coolant of General Motors, apparently turns to acid after a few years. Gasket-eating acid.
Fantastic.
So Lou is dismantling my engine, replacing the gaskets and an O-ring and re-sealing the V of the engine. Then he's going to flush out the DexCool and replace it with normal green coolant. Sweet, normal, non-cannibalistic green coolant.
And it's going to take until tomorrow morning, so the road trip is postponed. Which is my fault, for waiting until today to get my oil changed. But you know, technically, I was planning to leave Tuesday. I only changed my plans when my first hostess, down in State College, Penn., told me she's having a party tonight. Ah well.
It's also going to take about $625, after Lou knocked off 10 percent and the cost of the oil change. Lucky for me Mama Slaj feels guilty and knows that's about a third of my road trip budget/all the money I have to my name, so she'll pick up the tab.
It's disappointing, but I'd rather be stuck in Beacon Falls for an extra day than broken down in a ditch in Nebraska. Because that's how horror movies start.
I took the Malibu to Union City Getty today to get the oil changed. Had everything packed up, hot coffee in one thermos and cold water in another, my atlas on the passenger seat and my ipod charging away. I deposited some graduation checks, cashed some others, and was ready to go.
But the 'bu had other plans. Lou the mechanic told me she's leaking oil and antifreeze. He even shined a flashlight in the engine to prove it. Little puddles of green and red shone back. I swore.
Lou explained. DexCool, the favorite long-life coolant of General Motors, apparently turns to acid after a few years. Gasket-eating acid.
Fantastic.
So Lou is dismantling my engine, replacing the gaskets and an O-ring and re-sealing the V of the engine. Then he's going to flush out the DexCool and replace it with normal green coolant. Sweet, normal, non-cannibalistic green coolant.
And it's going to take until tomorrow morning, so the road trip is postponed. Which is my fault, for waiting until today to get my oil changed. But you know, technically, I was planning to leave Tuesday. I only changed my plans when my first hostess, down in State College, Penn., told me she's having a party tonight. Ah well.
It's also going to take about $625, after Lou knocked off 10 percent and the cost of the oil change. Lucky for me Mama Slaj feels guilty and knows that's about a third of my road trip budget/all the money I have to my name, so she'll pick up the tab.
It's disappointing, but I'd rather be stuck in Beacon Falls for an extra day than broken down in a ditch in Nebraska. Because that's how horror movies start.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Atlas Scored
I picked up my complete, 50 U.S. states and Canada (and Mexico!) road atlas today from AAA for $6.95, and we're off to a great start. I've facebooked all my friends, so they have some idea of when I'll be commandeering their couch, shower and refrigerator. At the end of each message I say I'm going to plan out specifics in the next couple days ... but I think I'll just wing it. I have my road atlas. What could go wrong?
I leave Tuesday.
I leave Tuesday.
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