Leaving Cornwall

The day had to come.  Early this morning I squeezed my belongings into my Miata trunk once more, said goodbye to my brother Ben, and departed the family home in Cornwall Connecticut.  After more than a month of residing with him, I’m on the move again.

A last look at my Miata in the grass driveway at Cornwall

I’m happy to say that I leave my brother in a better spot than when I came.  In the last month he put an end to his unemployed streak of many years by finding TWO new jobs: part-time kitchen work at a local retreat center in Cornwall, and, come November, a two-week gig in his real line of expertise, backstage tour assistance for jazz musician Stanley Clarke on a northeast tour.  The music gig came second, but Ben had already impressed the folks at the retreat center enough so that they’ll hold his job while he’s away.  His attitude is much improved, and I like to think I helped him turn a corner.  This morning our two cars drove together as far as West Cornwall, where he turned off for the retreat center with a wave and I, with an answering wave, drove on through the red covered bridge and off for points west.  It was good to spend the time with him (and he was a wonderful host).

My brother Ben

In a earlier post I warned my readers that the blog would thin out over the last month, as my road trip turned inward to personal matters.  That period is now done, and I hope to get back to regular reporting as the last leg of my trip commences: westward across the USA back to Seattle.

I’m actually headed first for Chicago, where I’ll also be stopping for a while, staying with my friend Robb Drinkwater.  This will be another personal reunion, and on top of that I want to use the pause to get some rewriting done on my novel (which I was unable to do in Cornwall for various reasons)—so yes, it will still involve inward-focused time.  Chicago, however, is an exciting major city, as well my ancient stomping ground which I haven’t revisted in almost 30 years, so there will be plenty to do, to see, and to write about.

In the meantime I’m back on the road, heading west.  It felt good to be humming along again in my Miata, shifting smoother now with its new clutch, though still unsightly with its big dent in the rear from my Mexican misadventures.  Unfortunately for the renewal of my road trip it was a day of furious, sopping rain.  I was crossing upper New York State on I-90, and was looking forward to breaking off at lunchtime to explore the Finger Lakes region, which I’ve never seen.  When I got there, however, I couldn’t see anything, the horizons napkin-soaked into a grey-white smear beyond the highway, and I decided to just keep driving.  I had a fast-food lunch at a turnpike rest area, and made it to the west border of New York in plenty time for a hot wing dinner down the street from my Motel 6.  Ah, life on the road.

The whole day pretty much looked like this.

But I’m spending the night in the town of Niagara Falls, and tomorrow I’ll be off to see —guess what?