At the cookout, there were lots of cousins and their kids - many of whom I have never seen. I so rarely get to Indiana it's no surprise that we don't know each other. Still, lots of food; lots of people; lots of fun. Spent the day there eating, talking, relaxing (the original intent of this trip), and on the way back to the house, we stopped at my grandfather's former farm. After his death, my dad, his brother and sisters sold the farm and the new owner kept the barn. It's old and suffered some during Hurricane Ike when the wind and rain made it to Indiana. I snapped some pictures of the barn my grandfather, along with my dad, uncle and others built in 1949.
The owner came over and allowed us to take some things out. I ended up with a wooden door latch, an old metal trap and some of the harness for the mule that my grandfather used to farm many many years ago. Those pieces are keeping the Diet Big Red company.
Went back to Sellersburg on the sight-seeing route and looked at different properties in the area. I was shocked to see what $150K will buy. Lots of bang for the buck for people who want to live in a small town in rural America.
I said goodbye this morning and hit the road. Again, I wanted to take two lane country roads to connect to US 50 and then on to the interstate to ride to Dayton. My uncle gave me the route three or four times, with me nodding my head, trying to commit it to memory; certain each time he said it that I knew where I was going. Well, I didn't. He mentioned three, maybe four, state roads. I ended up on six of them. Somewhere, somehow (easily done), in the labyrinthe of all the farm roads, I missed a turn. Or took the wrong one. Or both. So, heedless of my mistake, I rode on blissfully unaware. Unaware, that is, until none of the road numbers he mentioned materialized. I finally made it to Madison, IN and then on to Versialles where I caught 50, but not before wondering if Indiana was going to keep me riding around until I got back to Sellersburg. "Hey, I'm back!!!"
US 50 ran into I-275, bypassing Cincinnati. I rode it until I caught I-75 and headed into Dayton where during the day, I met up with two old friends. It hadn't rained in about 12 days so of course, it rained while I was here. I was in a parking lot and it started. It came down, as Bob said, "Like a cow pissing on a flat rock." I was in it, on the highway again, trying to find my way around. Shoes and socks were soaked, as were my jeans. I'm going to have to get some rain gear before this happens again. Anyway, it was nice to see both of them and even though my old Army buddy from Korea offered me a place to stay, I got back on the road. It was dark and I got on State road 35 not far from his house, heading southeast. Decided to stop when I saw clouds that were blacker than the night sky with lightning bolts dancing around in them. Pulled over in Jeffersonville, Ohio and I'm done for the night. Bob, my friend from Dayton, told me Ohio has the nation's fifth worst bed bug problem. Naturally, I asked the clerk here (I'm at the Hampton Inn) about it and he swore there were no problems. Despite his assurances, I tore the bed up just I did in the last two hotels. Nada on the bed bugs so I can sleep here soundly.
Rup looked that joke up on the internet for us. Here's the deal (you already have the punchline so it may not seem as roll-around on the ground funny as I said it is): There was a from the city who was visiting a small farm, and during this visit, he saw a farmer feeding pigs in a most extraordinary manner. The farmer would lift a pig up to a nearby apple tree, and the pig would eat the apples off the tree directly. The farmer would move the pig from one apple tree to another until the pig was satisfied, then he would start again with another pig. The city man watched this activity for some time with great astonishment. Finally, he could not resist saying to the farmer, "This is the most inefficient method of feeding pigs that I can imagine. Just think of the time that would be saved if you simply shook the apples off the tree and let the pigs eat them from the ground!" The farmer looked puzzled and replied, "What's time to a pig?"
OK. Maybe not as funny to you, especially since I dropped the punchline a few days ago, but I like it.
I didn't get many miles in today but I plan to log plenty tomorrow as I head into West Virginia and beyond. Forgot to check the odometer but will log both stats tomorrow.
Later. Thanks for reading and for staying in touch.
6 comments:
How does that 'fifth worst bedbug problem' actually get tabulated? Who, exactly, does the accounting and reporting on that? Is it a 'distant fifth' (as in; "We're waaaay better than Cleveland" or was it close to Memphis? Who's the bedbug leader? (if you read Instapundit, you'd think it was Manhattan, where they're called Bloombugs.
Just looked at a map near where you are in West VA. If you're on 50E, you can swing northeast to check out Cuzzart, WV. A small town near the PA/MD border - the 'tri state area'. I zoomed on Mapquest to check on Cuzzart and sho' you right - the road leading there is called:
"Ralph Livingood Road"
Hey, how great is that?
That family farm stuff sounds great. I had an uncle with a farm. Used to have big family dinners (lunch for you northerners) on his farm after church. He would roll up a flatbed trailer (for hauling cotton) and the food would come out. So those images are rattling around my head while reading your blog.
Hey Ralph, my comment on your previous entry never made it to your blog, and 2 other comments by ski were attributed to me (unless ski=bob also). Are those miles starting to fry your brain?
Btw, you can buy cheap rain gear in a hardware store (maybe $15). Better than nothing. I bought some because it actually rained once in California, and it happened on the final day of my MSF course (5 hours of riding outside).
Don't know about the bedbug list. I'm making sure I don't get too close to it. Judy doesn't want me to bring any souveniers like that home.
Also, didn't get the email about Ralph Livengood until tonight. Should have sent a text, my brother.
Clarification on names. Reilly asked if I knew anyone other than people named Bob and Dave. Bob could be Ski, Bob Benson or Bob Sims. I don't know how to differentiate on the blog. I know who writes what comment because I see it first on the in box. Other than that, though, everyone else can try to figure it out if they're so inclined.
I'm going to try to find some rain gear at Ski's - maybe a motorcycle accessory place like they have in Grand Junction - where I should have bought mine before I rolled out of town.
Hey Ilaughed at the pig joke but I laugh at almost everything so maybe Aunt Veronica is not the best judge.
Catching up today on the blog. Loved the old barn pics. Loved having you here Monday. What do bed bugs look like?
Aunt V
Uncle Rudy wants me to leave you this message.
Old barn pics revive fond memories. Present owner has planted 2 dwarf apple trees in back of the barn which used to be the barn lot. The apples are bearing now. I'm sure our mother your GMa would have wanted us to use the joke method of feeding the pigs (had it occurred to her) she would want to protect the pigs and have as much meat as possible for the winter season.
She had a genuine raspberry patch (8 rows)and cut weeds by hand(hoe). Once when your dad was home from CO he ran through the balks with the lawn mower to get it done quicker. She raised Cain with him and me mostly him since he usually got on her bad side.
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