Flat Todd got up early on Thursday. He met Richard. Now Richard is not a small boy by any stretch of the imagination. Richard is sort of a dark haired Grizzly Adams. He looked all tough and stuff but was a big teddy bear. Ahhh. Flat Todd received yet another stamp.

Cleveland is an interesting city. We drove by what I think was the baseball stadium and Quicken Loans Arena. Cleveland is built pretty darn close to one of the Great Lakes. So the Interstate heads straight for said large body of water and then turns a couple of times at darn near 90 degrees. Really, I have never seen signs that say speed limit 35 on an Interstate! Big Scott was driving. It made the first leg of the trip sporting. Ain’t it all great?

Our first stop was in Pennsylvania. Erie county to be exact. I got a picture with Flat Todd. Well, Big Scott got a picture of me holding Flat Todd. I know what I look like. Maybe I’ll post it but then maybe not. I realize that I don’t leave Nebraska much. Really, I like it here but I digress. The rest area was on of the prettiest landscaped and well kept rest areas I have ever seen.

I guess I didn’t realize that Pennsylvania and New York was wine country. Rows and rows of vines and I’m looking forward to possibly sampling some of the local wines.

I have read many books that describe bogs especially Irish literature and “colonial” literature. Stories that would describe living in a bog area and not knowing where to bury the dead or traveling through a bog and being hopelessly trapped in said bog. Let me say say this. Bogs are creepy. A stagnant pond, dead or near dead trees all that was needed to complete the creepy picture was a low fog hanging just above the water and moonlight.

Humorous Interlude

We stopped at several rest areas and truck-stops along the way to stretch our legs and to use the appropriate facilities. Any who. We were in New York. I was in the rest room doing what you do there. About three stalls over, a cell phone rings. The lady answers the call like this; “You won’t believe where I’m at?” It became a running joke during our trip.

So my MIL lead us into Vermont. I wrote on a sheet of paper “Truosity”. It’s a made up word but Big Scott and I know what it means. Big Scott had also read my blog entry. Near every time my MIL would hug the highway or interstate barrier I would point to the word “Truosity”. Whenever she would gun it or drive constantly over the speed limit I would also point to the word. It became yet another little game. I swear, this woman needs to don a fire suit and experience a stock car.

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