A Week in Ohio

Friday, July 26

After spending most of Thursday evening packing, the kids and I were basically ready for our adventure. We explained to Phoebe that she wouldn’t be able to go on Friday’s field trip to the dairy because we had to pick her up early to go to the airport. She thought about it for a little while, then wondered if she’d be able to tell her teacher and the other kids why she had to stay at school. We assured her that she would, so she decided it was just fine. I worked half a day and then picked Dave up from work. We picked up the kids and stopped at home to finalize the packing. Then Dave drove us to the airport, complete with humongous yellow duffel bag, diaper bag stuffed to the max with all the essentials for the plane, stroller, and jacket bag, plus my purse. And the front carrier for Benjamin. We said the usual hurried goodbyes at the airport and checked our big bag at the outdoor stand. When you travel with a “lap child,” you usually have to check in at the front counter, but the wonderful woman outside gave me all the tickets from there. We didn’t have to wait in line, so we went straight to security. I always find people very helpful when I’m traveling with the kids, though I always have to have my hands swabbed and checked. We had just long enough to go potty twice, ride a few people-movers, and fill up Phoebe’s water bottle before the plane boarded.

The flight was fairly uneventful, and Miss Debbie next to us was very pleasant about the kids, even though Benjamin is as wiggly as most 10-month-olds. She offered to hold Benjamin when Phoebe needed to go potty. The flight attendants were very snotty about allowing us past the drink cart, so I had to explain that if it were just me, I’d wait, but three-year-olds really can’t wait. They grudgingly let us through, but said that we’d have to wait when we got out of the bathroom. Phoebe loved the tiny bathroom, and then, sure enough, we waited at least ten minutes while the flight attendants served grown-ups their $2 soft drinks. Eventually, I pulled a flight attendant aside and explained that while I was delighted that Miss Debbie was holding Benjamin, she might be tired of it. He said, “We’ll have to move the cart down to the end!” I didn’t point out it was no more than 20 feet, and he finally agreed to let us back to our seats. Miss Debbie was traveling to Cleveland to play basketball in the Senior Games, which sounded like a lot of fun. She wasn’t too enthusiastic about my recommendation to check out the museums in University Circle, though.

Mom and Dad met us at the airport, and Dad valiantly carried the huge bag with its backpack straps to the car. We popped the kids into their carseats and I squeezed between them. (It was actually pretty comfortable once I got settled.) It’s only about 30 minutes home, and it was already very late, so we put the kids to bed almost immediately. Phoebe was delighted to have her own big-girl bed in my brother Nathaniel’s old room. Benjamin was in there too, in a borrowed Pack ‘N Play, and I had my old room. It was lovely to get some sleep after a long week of staying up late for various reasons, including preparing for the trip.

Saturday, July 27

Saturday was a lazy day. We slept in a bit and made a couple of trips to the grocery store. My brother Nathaniel and his wife Laura came by around lunchtime; we came back from the playground to find them at Mom and Dad’s.

Phoebe found a package of Easter toys: plastic bulbs in the shape of a rabbit and a chick. You put foam tubes on the end, squeeze the bulb, and send the tube flying. Much hilarity ensued, as it always does when things are flying through the air.

We had dinner all together and then played the Happy Highway game, an Aid Association for Lutherans invention that requires players to answer questions about their feelings when they land on a stop sign. (Not always feelings; Uncle N had a hard time figuring out where he would go if he could travel anywhere.) N and Laura left when the kids went to bed, and I stayed up much too late reading.

Sunday, July 28

Dad drove the kids and me to Massillon to attend Elaina’s church. As ever, we got lots of compliments on Benjamin’s glasses and Phoebe’s adorableness. The sermon was good too! After church, we joined Elaina’s sister Laura and her family plus their friend Mike at Bob Evans for breakfast. Phoebe managed to knock an entire glass of milk off the table, but such is dining with a three-year-old. We drove back to Mom and Dad’s for an afternoon of toys and books.

Monday, July 29

I wanted to visit the aunts, so Dad drove the kids and me up to South Euclid. When we arrived, Aunt Nancy was up in the storage space over the garage, cleaning out some dead animal one of the cats had deposited. She was looking for Hermatroid, a stuffed tiger that always brings me back to my youth. Hermatroid has seen better days; his fur is shabby now. But I remember so clearly where he used to perch on the back of the sofa at the house on Elm Street, where we climbed behind the sofa to sit on the heating vent. On Haywood, he could be found in the basement along with the exercise equipment and rows of bookshelves. I hadn’t seen him in ages, and it was lovely to re-make his acquaintance. Monk-Monk also joined us. I don’t remember him from my own childhood; I know he goes back much farther than that. Phoebe was most interested in an old wooden train set and a new set of pop beads. She made a long, curving train track and a pretty pink necklace. Benjamin isn’t picky at all; he’ll put anything he can get his hands on into his mouth.

After sandwiches for lunch, we drove over to the park, where Phoebe bossed the aunts and me around. Someone had to be the teacher, and we had to sit in our assigned seats. We enjoyed playing with her (and trying out all the playground equipment ourselves). We checked out the community garden, but after her little hand got pinched in a water pump handle, Phoebe was ready to go home. “Grandpa and Grandma’s house!” she said tearfully.

The rest of the day was the usual playing, eating, and getting ready for bed. We had plans for the morning!

Tuesday, July 30

The zoo! On Tuesday morning, we headed to the Akron zoo.

It’s the perfect size, not too big to see in one day. (However, there are no monkeys! Too bad for me.) Phoebe got to ride the carousel, pretend to be a prairie dog, and hang out in a tree house surrounded by birds. We brought a picnic lunch, complete with the requisite pickles. By the afternoon, we were all tired and ready to go home. I had to figure out what I was going to take on my motorcycle trip. I stayed up way too late watching TV and then reading every single night of vacation…that’s how you know it was really a vacation!

Wednesday, July 31

We had time for breakfast before Elaina arrived to pick me up, so I spent my last couple of hours with the kids. I was planning to miss them…but not TOO much. Phoebe was clearly a little nervous about me leaving; she kept asking if there was still time before Aunty Elaina came. When Elaina got there, I assured Phoebe that I’d be back in a while with my rental motorcycle, since I’d need to load up my gear. Elaina drove me to Bedford Heights in her new Subaru; she wasn’t packed yet either, since she’d spent the previous two days hanging out with her family at Cedar Point and Put-In-Bay, where her niece had fallen off some playground equipment and needed stitches. I think we were both excited and nervous. When we made it to the Southeast Harley Davidson showroom and rental building, I filled out a lot of paperwork and cracked nervous jokes, none of which made the rental guy laugh. He brought my bike out to the front of the building, and I gasped. “Wow, that’s huge!” I said. (If it were my company, I’d think twice about renting a motorcycle to someone who says that first thing.) He showed me all the features, including a CD player and cruise control. I figured I’d be lucky to remember that the turn signals (which self-canceled!) were on two different sides. (My Honda has both on one button on the left side.)

Of course I wanted to ride around back to practice in the parking lot before heading out into traffic. I climbed on and discovered right away that I couldn’t put up the kickstand by myself—my leg was too short. Elaina kicked it up for me, and I rode to the back of the building. Wow, that bike was big. I practiced some wide, sweeping turns, since there was no way I could do a tight turn yet. I figured I’d get more comfortable as the trip went on. It would’ve been terrific if I’d been able to put my feet flat on the pavement—it feels pretty unstable to be on tiptoes every time you stop for a red light or stop sign. Well, this was my only option, so I drove back around to meet Elaina. She led the way to the traffic light that let us out onto the road. I stalled the bike trying to go, but fortunately I remembered at the last second what to do. (It had been a while since I’d stalled my own bike! Or even ridden it, for that matter.)

We rode the several miles back to Mom and Dad’s, and I packed up my bags.

The hard cases on the side of the bike were very roomy, so I was able to take everything without strapping a bag on the passenger seat. I kissed the kids and my parents goodbye, and we were off to Massillon to pick up Bandit (Elaina’s Harley). We stopped at a Thai restaurant for lunch and I told Elaina that I’d named my motorcycle—I was going to call it Officer (it was the blue of a police officer’s uniform), but then I realized I had to call it Smokey. Since I’d been thinking about the police, and since I’d be riding along with Bandit!

When we got to her house, Elaina packed her bags quickly and let Bandit run for a while. (My bike was fuel injected, so it started up like a car.) We headed out to Jewett, Ohio, the home of Faith Ranch. Elaina’s parents used to be on the board of directors there, and she and her sisters visited every summer. We were renting a cabin for the night. By that point, I was comfortable enough on my motorcycle to be wearing a big grin. I always forget the things I love about biking until I’m back on the road: the temperature drop in valleys, the smell of grass and hay, the challenge of paying attention to everything, the feeling of power from pressing the handlebar and feeling the big machine sweep around a curve underneath me.

It didn’t take long to get to Jewett. We successfully navigated the gravel road to the bunkhouse, office, and mess hall. It was 5:00 p.m., and dinner was at 6:00 p.m. Instead of driving back down that gravel, up more gravel to the cabin, and back again to the mess hall, we just looked at some horses and waited around. We joined the summer campers for dinner, which seemed charming and fun. It WAS charming and fun, but dinner left something to be desired. We had frozen chicken patty sandwiches, mac and cheese made with soggy noodles and Velveeta, and canned carrots. With chocolate pudding for dessert. After dinner, we pulled our helmets back on and rode over to our cabin. Unfortunately, we hadn’t brought any snacks, so we spent much of the evening enjoying each other’s company, reading trashy romance novels, and discussing what snacks we’d like to be eating. We went for a walk, made a fire in the fire ring (using the electric stove to get some paper lit), and eventually went to bed.

Here’s Benjamin at Grandma and Grandpa’s while we were away:

Thursday, August 1

In the morning, we packed our bags and rode the gravel one more time. We asked at the office where we should eat breakfast, so we were headed for the Jewett restaurant. Luckily, Elaina found it nestled down a side street.

There were a few Jewett residents eating, and we made friends with a guy sitting by himself. The eggs and coffee were good, and they even had hot sauce. We looked at the map and wrote down the road numbers we’d need to get to my brother Matt’s house in Newark, Ohio, on a little piece of the paper placemat. The waitress obligingly provided a couple of pieces of scotch tape, and we rolled out, tired but delighted to be back on our bikes, with the road numbers taped to my gas tank. We stopped for gas in Jewett, met a cool old guy named Marion sitting on a bench outside the gas station, chatted, and taped the same route numbers to Elaina’s gas tank.

Then we got on our bikes and rode for a couple of hours. I have to admit that at first I wondered why we were headed east when I thought we were supposed to be going west, but everyone knows I couldn’t find my way out of a paper bag. And I’d been looking at the map upside down. The road was fun—twisty and challenging. However, I never did see the towns I was expecting to see along the way. Finally, two hours later, I initiated a stop in a grocery store parking lot. We dug out the map. Indeed, we’d been riding the wrong way for two hours.

Lots of self-recrimination later (on both our parts), we finally agreed that we were on a motorcycle ride, it was vacation, and we were riding our motorcycles. So all was well. The only problem was that we were going to have to either ride a long way north to turn west, or ride on I-70. Now, I have a rule about riding on I-70—I don’t do it. But I was tired, and I couldn’t face the idea of going any farther than we had to. We walked over to McDonald’s for a milkshake and called Matt to say we’d be there in a few hours. We also agreed to switch positions; I was pretty sure I’d be more comfortable in the lead. And Elaina seemed happy to ride second. (Not because I’m good with directions; I’m truly not. I finally got smart enough, though, to start writing the cardinal directions on the little piece of paper along with the road numbers!)

Bandit doesn’t like to go more than about 60 mph, so we figured it would be safest to stay in the right lane and go 60. Cars could go around us. (We’re anomalies; ladies on their own bikes, driving like grandmas.) The ride on 70 was windy and fast. I got tired of holding my head steady against the wind. But we did make it to Cambridge in reasonable time. We had some lunch at Bob Evans and got directions to Zanesville that didn’t involve getting back on the highway. Elaina wanted to stop at the Zane Grey museum, and I was game. We couldn’t quite find it, so we ended up at a flea market, which was handy, since we needed some host/ess presents for Matt and Erin. We got a great deal on a big painted ceramic flask in the shape of Ohio, complete with Ohio activities on the back. And a door hanger that said “Do Not Enter If Unless You Have Beer” [sic].

Anyway, it turned out that we were basically across the street from the museum, so we saddled up and crossed over. We’d been on our bikes long enough to develop some saavy—I asked the flea market folks if the driveway to the museum was gravel or paved. Of course, they didn’t know, but I wanted to work up my courage for another gravel path if necessary. Happily, it was paved. The museum, however, was closing in 15 minutes. We asked if we could walk around quickly, and they kindly agreed to let us come in free if we’d pretend to be part of some group they wanted to show good attendance for. Fifteen minutes was plenty for me. We checked out the exhibits and then sat at a picnic bench on the hill by the museum so I could pump. We were finally headed to Matt’s house!

We got to Matt’s around 6:30 p.m. or so and parked in the driveway. He opened the garage door and asked us to come into the garage. Big sighs—we had to cross a field of fresh gravel just in front of the garage door. Once inside, we put our belongings in our rooms and took off our leathers. Erin wasn’t going to be home for a while; she was working the county fair. Matt made us grilled salmon, rice, and vegetables and handed out beer. We were in heaven! We took a quick tour of the farm, since it was getting dark.

Erin came back, and we ended up trying Matt’s whiskey and sitting around in the living room discussing guns, the responsibility to act in the face of evil, and other light topics. I’m sure Matt and Erin were glad they invited us! It had been a long day, and we stayed up late again, so it felt amazing to climb into a comfortable bed with sheets and blankets.

Friday, August 2

In the morning, Matt and I went for a three-mile run before breakfast. It was fun to be on a new route, and it felt great to get some exercise after a lot of sitting on couches and motorcycle seats.  When we got back, we had some eggs for breakfast and Elaina and I took a long look at the map. This was going to be the climax of the trip—our ride on the Triple Nickel, otherwise known as Ohio Route 555. We understood it to be very twisty and hilly. I was feeling so tired and lazy, I almost hoped we’d decide not to do it. On the other hand, I really wanted to be able to brag that we’d done it. We’d been planning to stay at a hotel somewhere around the end of the route and then head north the next day, but we soon saw the folly of attempting such a long day on the final day of the trip, when my motorcycle would be due at the rental place. Matt and Erin were going to help out with Erin’s sister’s art show for the weekend, so they wouldn’t be home that night. We ended up deciding to ride back there, where we could earn our keep by doing some farm chores. We added the route to the piece of paper on my gas tank and messed around on the farm for a while before setting off.

We stopped for lunch in New Lexington. We enjoyed our chicken salad sandwiches and then looked around town a little bit. There was a great statue of Januarius A. MacGahan, champion of Bulgarian freedom, and a beautiful Catholic church.

We only walked a few blocks of town, but it felt good to take a break. We kept driving, but suddenly found ourselves in a little park with a cul-de-sac instead of on the road. We stopped, and I told Elaina I’d get off and ask the two older folks out for a walk for directions. They said they weren’t from town, but that they were pretty sure we needed to be on the road over near a building we could see from the park. It’s tricky to look for a road with two people who are trying to stay together, so I decided to stop the cyclists I saw riding through the parking lot. They explained how to get back on the road we needed. Then I told one of them that sure, this was embarrassing, but I couldn’t put my own kickstand up, and would he help out by…and instead of waiting for me to finish, he kicked up the kickstand. I didn’t have the Harley balanced yet, and I could feel it listing to the left. I struggled with all my might to get it back to the center line, but it kept falling, as if in slow motion. I started yelling “push up the bike, push up the bike,” but he was looking at me like he had no idea what was happening. (I’m sure he didn’t! Bicycles don’t weigh 800 pounds.) Then I was shouting “Elaina, Elaina, Elaina!” Somehow she managed to get off her bike and get to me before I tipped completely over. My heart was racing by the time she helped me stabilize that huge machine. We passed the cyclists again as we found our road, and I felt so embarrassed as they pointed us the right direction. But that’s part of motorcyling; you have to shake off everything scary that happens—the curves you take too fast, the hard stops, the gravel roads. The visions of yourself flying in a perfect parabola through the air. We were headed for our goal, the road that was at the center of the planning for our motorcycle trip.

The Triple Nickel turned out to be, in a word, terrifying. Sort of exhilarating, but mostly scary as all heck. It seemed like all the curves were blind. I eventually learned that if the road sign said 35 mph for the curve, I had to be in 3rd gear. A curve of 25 mph meant 2nd gear, and there were plenty of first-gear, 15-mph curves. That huge bike was so heavy, and I got more and more tired. I started to think I wouldn’t be able to finish, except that I could never turn around and go back. When we finally got to Chesterhill, I pulled into the first parking lot I saw, which said “library parking only.” I was so tired I started explaining (in my head) how tired I was to the policeman I was sure was going to kick us unceremoniously out of the lot. Elaina pointed out that we could go into the library. Yes, of course! We got some water, went to the bathroom, looked at a few kids’ books, and looked at our map. I said I couldn’t ride 555 back. Elaina seemed disappointed, but she acquiesced, and we asked the librarian to look at the map with us.

As exhausted as I was, getting back on the bike was still a thrill. I love how it feels to settle into the seat and start to feel competent and powerful again. As we rode the still-twisty road back to Zanesville, and eventually Matt and Erin’s, I realized how glad I was that I’d insisted we go a different way. Boy, was that a long day! When we pulled into the driveway to stumble off the bikes and open the garage, I couldn’t believe we’d actually made it. Blessedly, Matt had left the keys to Erin’s car, so we changed clothes and got in the car to head into Granville to a restaurant Elaina had seen on the way past. I marveled at how easy a car was to drive, even a stick shift. But when we got to town and parked, the car was beeping, and I was so tired I couldn’t figure out how to make it stop. I considered just leaving it beeping and going to get some food anyway. Elaina brilliantly suggested that the lights were on, and sure enough, the beeping stopped. The Italian restaurant we were excited about was closed for good, so we ended up at an American place. The food and beer choices were pretty extensive, and I was totally pleased with the meal. After dinner, we stopped at the cemetery in town, which had graves from the Revolutionary War, Civil War, and War of 1812. Many of the gravestones included poems, and many of the men had died young in the wars. The women died young too, which I thought was odd until Elaina pointed out that they often died in childbirth. I was slightly more appreciative of my C-Section after that. We stayed up late again, sitting around a fire we built in the pit in the yard and watching total trash on Elaina’s Kindle Fire.

(Back at home, my aunt Linda arrived with her two boys so that they could go see The Lion King at the Cleveland Playhouse the next day. From what I hear, Phoebe loved playing with her cousins Evers and Ashe.)

Saturday, August 3

Saturday morning, Elaina went out to feed the pigs. When she came back, she reported that she’d let out a chicken. I agreed that we could probably get it back into the coop. We had some eggs for breakfast and I made Matt and Erin some noodles. (We figured that good guests would use up as many eggs as possible.) We got packed up and went out to get the chicken back into the coop. Instead, I managed to let out another one, which took off for the hills. I was pretty sure we could catch the chicken we could still see—after all, it was walking around with its head bobbing like an idiot and letting us get within a foot of it. I tried to catch it with a bucket, but boy, are chickens fast when you try to trap them! (I later learned I should’ve just picked it up.) We decided to give up and hope the two chickens weren’t picked off by a hawk before Matt and Erin got back.

We rode back to Massillon, where I was slightly jealous of Elaina as she climbed into her car to lead me back up to the rental place. It was a successful trip; I didn’t tip the bike and I looked cool in my leathers. (So says me, anyway.) Elaina drove me back to Mom and Dad’s, where it was great to see the kids. She and I hugged goodbye, and I settled reluctantly back into regular life, nursing Benjamin and watching Phoebe do her stuff. The aunts stopped by in the evening to say goodbye, so we had a chance for some photo ops. I stayed up late again reading, just to round out the week.

Sunday, August 4

The kids, Dad, and I went to the second service at Mom’s church. It’s always great to be there, and I saw many old friends. It’s always fun to show off the kids, too. We didn’t have a lot of time after church before we had to head to the airport, so we had some lunch and hung out.

I packed our bags, including a huge suitcase of Mom and Dad’s that would hold my motorcycle gear and other odds and ends we’d acquired during the week. (Lots of pairs of sparkly and flashing shoes for Phoebe, for instance!) We said our goodbyes at the airport and got ready to board. The kids were very good on the flight home, and Phoebe was delighted to see Dave when we got back to Denver. It was a wonderful week, even if the scenery wasn’t as dramatic as it was on Dave’s trip.