We've had a few of those oddly cool days that remind us that summer really won't last forever. But the cool days were short lived and the past several days have been more like mid-July than the end of August. While the hot and humid weather makes it easy to get excited about fishing, it makes it a bit harder to get excited about bear hunting ... until the last few days.
I dealt with a few things at work before spending most of the day getting a rather complicated (for me) macro to do what I wanted it to in eXcel. I'm glad I got figured that out as there is a risk I would have thought about it too much. My inbox was gloriously down to zero by the time I ate lunch at my desk. I left a very empty work, as the Friday before Labor Day meant many people were already off or were "working from home."
Once at home I felt like I was dithering around while packing the last few things. Soon enough I was on the road.
Starting out on the small 2-lane roads near home, I almost immediately got behind an evil motorhome. This is not a good way to start. Despite the fact that I had lots of time, passing him as soon as possible was the only option.
There was one road-closed construction zone which I had pre-scoped a short route around and it was on to the interstate.
Traffic around Indianapolis was just starting to pick up, but I made my way through. It was a little unnerving having a tractor trailer hauling granite slabs lose a tire shortly after I passed it. The noise was crazy loud and the result could have been terrible.
Once out of the Indy area traffic lightened only slightly and there was lots of construction. My massive but cheap Styrofoam cooler came partially loose so I ended up getting off the interstate and pondering a better fastening system. I use the term "better" loosely. After getting back on the interstate, I decided that if I have more issues with it, I'll throw it away and buy a better (real) cooler in Duluth!
SO had kicked me out a day early as she was worried about me driving a zillion miles in one day. Or maybe she just wanted me gone - who knows. The hotel room was gratis, but I got to it wwwwaaaaayyyyyy to early. I easily could have gone a couple hundred more miles. But when the reservation had been made, I didn't know if I'd be able to escape work early and even the distance I did go will help for the next days journey.
I ordered in Chinese food for dinner. The scallops were quite good and the shrimp were huge. It was a good thing I had my ice cream spoon as they didn't have the foresight to give me a plastic fork. The garbage went right outside as I didn't want to smell the leftovers when I woke up in the morning. Then it was watching TV until I made myself tired enough to call it a day.
Tomorrow the adventure really starts.
Friday, August 31, 2018
Sunday, August 12, 2018
Great Lakes 2018 Day 7 - Home
Lexington, Michigan to Home: 358.9 Miles
I woke up in end-of-vacation mode which means it was time to head home. After getting up and making coffee, I started picking stuff up and putting things away (my Mom later complained about the noise of putting dishes away).
As it started to get light, people started filtering downstairs. Everyone was eating breakfast, talking and starting to pack and clean and get ready to leave.
SO even found a few minutes to watch the sunrise through some hazy Huron clouds.
SO even found a few minutes to watch the sunrise through some hazy Huron clouds.
I kind of liked the fishing pole I bought at the garage sale, and rigged up a way to take it home. I took the reel off and packed it away. I strung the pole between the helmet holders on the back bag, using zip ties to secure it in place. It worked much better than I anticipated even though the pole halves stuck out a little bit to either side.
It seemed like there was more dithering than there needed to be. And dithering was definitely not compatible with my being ready to leave. First thing in the morning on the road is always best. And it was a long drive home.
My younger sister and Mom were the first to leave. My sister was dropping off my Mom at home, and had the longest drive.
My older sister and two nephews were next. They had to fly out.
My older brother, his wife and my youngest nephew (the now master fisherman) were last to leave. Little kids do take time.
Once everyone was gone I took a few minutes to make sure the house was left how it was supposed be. The letter from the landlord asked us to put the garbage out at the far left of the property opposite the leaning trees. I didn't see any leaning trees (only some crooked stumps?) and left is ambiguous - left from where and while looking at the house or from the house? Hopefully the garbage cans were left in the right place. They are at the NW corner of the property - which is a much better description than on the left corner of the property.
We were on the road around 10:00. The trip south started out well enough. We caught a few glimpses of Lake Huron, but it was time to go home.
The area around Detroit was lousy with construction, including an I-75 closure. If there is any benefit to leaving on Sunday it was that traffic wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. But it would have been better had I left at first light...
The drive went well enough even though I did start to get quite tired. We got stuck in one traffic situation which lasted about 15 minutes. It wasn't too bad but wasn't too good either.
As we neared Dayton, I remarked to SO that it looked like rain off to the East. She checked her phone and said it looked like a few miles of "green" rain - meaning the radar was green which usually means light to at most moderate rain.
Nope, it was several miles of the worst rain I've ever ridden through. Cars were pulling off the road or slowing down (slowing down was fine with me). Idiots were even using their hazard lights. Water was pooling over the interstate. The tractor-trailer next to me was throwing huge amounts of water onto us. I could tolerate this as it was also blocking some wind and hail. Yes, hail. It was hailing, and not lightly. At one point I looked down and between my leg and the bike was a small pile of hail. We wear open-faced helmets and the hail hurt my lips.
Pulling off the road would have been the smart thing to do, but I plugged along. The heavy rain waned and for the rest of the trip home it was anything and everything from hot sunshine to more rain and wind. Both SO and I were completely soaked through. But we did eventually get home.
The home alarm had a SNAFU, so it may have been screaming for a time while we were gone. I'm a little disappointed the neighbors didn't notice. Or maybe they did. But everything else looked good.
I got dogs from beagle jail. SO made a quick grocery trip, and we unpacked, getting ready for another work day in the morning. I hate not having a recovery day after a vacation, but that is how it works sometimes.
For a short vacation, our trip to Chicago a few days ago seems like a very long time ago. It was definitely not a motorcycle tour about hauling for miles and miles across the country or about crossing many state lines. The SS Badger across Lake Michigan was a lot of fun. It was good to see family at several stops as was spending several days with my siblings and Mom.
The dogs are back at home so things can get back to normal - for at least a few weeks.
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Great Lakes 2018 Day 6
Without anything on the agenda, things started more slowly in the rental house, giving me some time alone. I've said it 687 times before and I'll say it for the 688th, "Early mornings on vacation are the best."
While I was poking around, I also started to think about one of the quotes from Hillbilly Elegy:
"It was … 'a typical middle-class life.' Kind of boring, by some standards, but happy in a way you appreciate only when you understand the consequences of not being boring." - JD Vance
While this pretty much describes growing up, it is interesting to see how the group of us diverged into exceedingly disparate directions over the last 20-some-odd years - starting out between that netherworld which hasn't ever existed and all of our bad decisions.
I headed out, down to the beach to watch the sunrise. Waves gently lapped against the breakwall as the pinks turned to oranges and reds. They had done some hillside trimming on the previous day, making the wet morning smell like that typical Midwest summer of cut Queen Anne's Lace.
In the northern latitudes sunrises and sunsets happen quicker near the spring and fall equinoxes. Even though we're well over a month from the start of fall, it still seemed like once the sun made an appearance, it shot straight into the day. The scene reminded me of 2010, when SO and I watched a similar sunrise only a few hours away in Alpena, and the worker grading the beach waited patiently before starting his day.
After the slow morning, a group of us went to a park in nearby Croswell. The Croswell park is a really nice park on the Black River and has a huge swinging bridge across it. I also thought it would be a good place for my youngest nephew to catch his first fish.
The bridge is called the swinging bridge for a reason, but looking at its construction, it looked massively overbuilt.
Once across we set up for some small fish fishing. I got my brother going with my Nephew while I walked down the river a way to see if I could see any small panfish in the river. I talked to one other guy fishing and he said that under the bridge was a good spot for bluegill and pumpkin seeds.
Back at the fishing crew we put in a few lines, I was using my pole with just a hook and found sinker right at the edge of the bridge abutment and saw a small fish come out and grab the worm - this might work. I rebaited and dropped the line in again, and almost immediately a small bluegill grabbed the worm. I got my nephew over and let him reel it in with the help of his mom. Nephew thought the fish was pretty cool.
We tried for a little while longer and I hooked into a pumpkin seed of pretty respectable size. Again, I had my nephew reel it in for a few pictures before releasing it.
Back at the house there was a slow afternoon as people played games, puzzles or walked the beach area. It wasa little a lot slow for me, but I guess a bit of down time isn't always a bad thing.
We went out for pizza for dinner before heading back to the house for more shenanigans. My mom seemed very appreciative to have everyone together for a few days and it did seem like a good time was had by all.
Even if he is a little bit young, I was really geeked I was able to help my nephew catch his first fish.
While I was poking around, I also started to think about one of the quotes from Hillbilly Elegy:
"It was … 'a typical middle-class life.' Kind of boring, by some standards, but happy in a way you appreciate only when you understand the consequences of not being boring." - JD Vance
While this pretty much describes growing up, it is interesting to see how the group of us diverged into exceedingly disparate directions over the last 20-some-odd years - starting out between that netherworld which hasn't ever existed and all of our bad decisions.
I headed out, down to the beach to watch the sunrise. Waves gently lapped against the breakwall as the pinks turned to oranges and reds. They had done some hillside trimming on the previous day, making the wet morning smell like that typical Midwest summer of cut Queen Anne's Lace.
In the northern latitudes sunrises and sunsets happen quicker near the spring and fall equinoxes. Even though we're well over a month from the start of fall, it still seemed like once the sun made an appearance, it shot straight into the day. The scene reminded me of 2010, when SO and I watched a similar sunrise only a few hours away in Alpena, and the worker grading the beach waited patiently before starting his day.
After the slow morning, a group of us went to a park in nearby Croswell. The Croswell park is a really nice park on the Black River and has a huge swinging bridge across it. I also thought it would be a good place for my youngest nephew to catch his first fish.
The bridge is called the swinging bridge for a reason, but looking at its construction, it looked massively overbuilt.
Once across we set up for some small fish fishing. I got my brother going with my Nephew while I walked down the river a way to see if I could see any small panfish in the river. I talked to one other guy fishing and he said that under the bridge was a good spot for bluegill and pumpkin seeds.
Back at the fishing crew we put in a few lines, I was using my pole with just a hook and found sinker right at the edge of the bridge abutment and saw a small fish come out and grab the worm - this might work. I rebaited and dropped the line in again, and almost immediately a small bluegill grabbed the worm. I got my nephew over and let him reel it in with the help of his mom. Nephew thought the fish was pretty cool.
We tried for a little while longer and I hooked into a pumpkin seed of pretty respectable size. Again, I had my nephew reel it in for a few pictures before releasing it.
Back at the house there was a slow afternoon as people played games, puzzles or walked the beach area. It was
We went out for pizza for dinner before heading back to the house for more shenanigans. My mom seemed very appreciative to have everyone together for a few days and it did seem like a good time was had by all.
Even if he is a little bit young, I was really geeked I was able to help my nephew catch his first fish.
Friday, August 10, 2018
Great Lakes 2018 Day 5 - Fishing (if only briefly)
It was a very early morning for four of us. SO, Big Sis, J and I went out for an early morning charter. Our charter called while we were en route to the marina and said the wind was higher than expected and coming out of the Northeast, making waves bigger than expected. Since it was so dark out, they weren't even sure if we would be able to go. We decided to continue up there anyway since we were half way there already.
We got up there as the east horizon was just beginning to get light. The waves were definitely up, but the captain said it would not be unsafe. So we decided to go. After a few minutes to get ready, we headed out.
As we got to the end of the no wake zone, the captain slowed and asked if we could handle the waves. It was rough, but I had been on worse before. I looked to the other three and we agreed to head out.
Even with the rough and somewhat unpredictable waves, it was a pretty morning.
Soon enough we were out quite a way off shore and the mate starting putting out lines. It took a while to put out all 10 of them: four down riggers, two dipsy divers, and four planer boards. Then we started to troll. I've seen it before where fish are being almost constantly brought in and/or lines going back out, but it was beyond slow. And the waves were relentless.
Then ... it happened. SO and Big Sis started involuntarily acting on the ill-effects of the waves. They were both troopers about it and kept a sense of humor, but after a while, it was obvious that it was a bit much for them. And the fishing was slow - meaning non-existent. Puking with no fish is a bad combination and after only a short time trolling, I told the captain we should head back in.
The mate started bringing in all the lines which took almost as much time as putting them out. As they were coming in, a fish hit one of the down riggers and I brought in a small trout. Seeing as this was not to be enough fish for the group of us, I told the mate it makes more sense to release it. It didn't look too healthy as I slipped it back into the water, but it wasn't out of the water and wasn't bleeding so I'm quite sure that the churning water revived it quickly.
The captain gave us a break on the price of fishing which was very, very gracious. Once back on land that was not undulating in an unruly manner, J and I walked around a little bit while SO and Big Sis recovered and we headed out of the marina. Since we had fishing licenses, we stopped at a tackle store to buy a pole so I we could take my youngest nephew fishing. Then it was back to the house.
Back at the house a group of us went to a nearby state park to the beach. My youngest nephew seemed to really enjoy it. The Thumb area of Michigan was having an antique weekend (read yard sales) and I bought another pole to use for fishing. Young Sis and I went grocery shopping even though there was already enough food in the house to feed an army for a week or two.
We lollygagged around the house for a while - probably too much as various people came and went. The four people who were fishing (the two pukers now recovered) went out to the pier in a nearby town.
The Thumb area of Michigan was having an antique weekend (read yard sales) and J bought a slightly broken if functional pole for the grand sum of $2 and I got the seller to throw in some jig heads.
Once at the pier, SO and Big Sis went to do who-knows-what while J and I attempted to catch some fish. The pier fishing was calmer, but unsurprisingly unsuccessful.
Back at the house I grilled burgers for dinner. The grill was a bit terrifying with old grease that had to burn off and the new hamburger grease, but the neighborhood was only slightly singed by it.
Several people went to a music festival for the evening. SO and I did not as I was quite sure I'd get peopled out in a hurry (it was already getting busy earlier in the day).
The morning's fishing was a bit of a bummer, but I suppose it gives another vignette in the Tale of family life.
We got up there as the east horizon was just beginning to get light. The waves were definitely up, but the captain said it would not be unsafe. So we decided to go. After a few minutes to get ready, we headed out.
As we got to the end of the no wake zone, the captain slowed and asked if we could handle the waves. It was rough, but I had been on worse before. I looked to the other three and we agreed to head out.
Even with the rough and somewhat unpredictable waves, it was a pretty morning.
Then ... it happened. SO and Big Sis started involuntarily acting on the ill-effects of the waves. They were both troopers about it and kept a sense of humor, but after a while, it was obvious that it was a bit much for them. And the fishing was slow - meaning non-existent. Puking with no fish is a bad combination and after only a short time trolling, I told the captain we should head back in.
The mate started bringing in all the lines which took almost as much time as putting them out. As they were coming in, a fish hit one of the down riggers and I brought in a small trout. Seeing as this was not to be enough fish for the group of us, I told the mate it makes more sense to release it. It didn't look too healthy as I slipped it back into the water, but it wasn't out of the water and wasn't bleeding so I'm quite sure that the churning water revived it quickly.
The captain gave us a break on the price of fishing which was very, very gracious. Once back on land that was not undulating in an unruly manner, J and I walked around a little bit while SO and Big Sis recovered and we headed out of the marina. Since we had fishing licenses, we stopped at a tackle store to buy a pole so I we could take my youngest nephew fishing. Then it was back to the house.
Back at the house a group of us went to a nearby state park to the beach. My youngest nephew seemed to really enjoy it. The Thumb area of Michigan was having an antique weekend (read yard sales) and I bought another pole to use for fishing. Young Sis and I went grocery shopping even though there was already enough food in the house to feed an army for a week or two.
We lollygagged around the house for a while - probably too much as various people came and went. The four people who were fishing (the two pukers now recovered) went out to the pier in a nearby town.
The Thumb area of Michigan was having an antique weekend (read yard sales) and J bought a slightly broken if functional pole for the grand sum of $2 and I got the seller to throw in some jig heads.
Once at the pier, SO and Big Sis went to do who-knows-what while J and I attempted to catch some fish. The pier fishing was calmer, but unsurprisingly unsuccessful.
Back at the house I grilled burgers for dinner. The grill was a bit terrifying with old grease that had to burn off and the new hamburger grease, but the neighborhood was only slightly singed by it.
Several people went to a music festival for the evening. SO and I did not as I was quite sure I'd get peopled out in a hurry (it was already getting busy earlier in the day).
The morning's fishing was a bit of a bummer, but I suppose it gives another vignette in the Tale of family life.
Thursday, August 9, 2018
Great Lakes 2018 Day 4 - Michigan's Thumb
Tustin, Michigan to Lexington, Michigan: 204.8 Miles
I woke up early and putzed around online a bit. Soon enough others were up. We talked about taking the boat out again, but there wasn't time. My Aunt made a great farmers breakfast as we talked for a little while longer - sharing stories of past and future adventures. But we had to head out again.
We left mid-morning for another beautiful ride through rural Michigan. Roads were nearly empty and temperatures were cool, if a bit humid.
We worked our way toward where SO grew up, stopping briefly to see her Mom at her work. We talked for a short time heading out to see SO's Grandma. But SO's Grandma was at the hair dresser's so we headed back out toward the Thumb of Michigan.
On one of the rural roads near the center of the Thumb, I saw what I thought was a turkey vulture on the road eating carrion. Once we got closer though, what I saw was a bald eagle taking flight off of the road. The image of the "majestic" bald eagle scavenging a dead possum is one to remember - as well as a metaphor to ponder.
My family has had a few turbulent issues over the last year, so we all decided to get together at a rental house near Lexington, Michigan for a few days.
So I'm going from a visit with an Aunt and Uncle, to SO's Mom, to my family - an unnatural progression if there ever was one.
I very often struggle with the idea that my aunts and uncles are the siblings of my parents. That all those little things that make family the ultimate insider's club also happened to them while they were growing up a generation before I was ever around. That all of life's monumental unfairnesses of living within life's single-digit years happened within that other insider club - so near, yet so far.
It is interesting to look back on the progression from childhood through adolescence and into adulthood and now middle age. If life wasn't fair at 7, there is far more ugly brutality at 47. Yet those things that make the the insider's club persist. "Blood is thicker than water" is an old cliche. It is a worn-out cliche with life or death consequences. Friends will inevitably become acquaintances; acquaintances will become near-strangers who get the occasional Christmas card. But sibling is a label that will always stick.
I look at my nieces and nephews and wonder how their world looks relative to what mine did - how their insider club is a place I can never go, and wouldn't want to.
I look at my siblings and know that there are undeniable DNA-based bonds. My recent exploration of 23andme has shown I have clear DNA bonds to far more people than I'm comfortable with; to far more people than I'll ever know. The DNA isn't really what matters though. What matters is fighting over a stupid plastic cowboy boot. What matters is inventing new card games while watching silly Don Knotts' movies on a summer Saturday afternoon. What matters is building sand forts in huge empty fields and playing with fireworks. What matters are those horrible car trips across the country. What matters is wondering what the statute of limitations is for arson. There is no doubt that despite the fact that what we have in common now seems to decrease every year, siblings will always be the ultimate insider's club.
The next few days could be interesting. The group of us haven't spent the night in the same place since possibly before I could even drive. It is hoped by all that there will be no bloodshed - or maybe just a little bloodshed...
I woke up early and putzed around online a bit. Soon enough others were up. We talked about taking the boat out again, but there wasn't time. My Aunt made a great farmers breakfast as we talked for a little while longer - sharing stories of past and future adventures. But we had to head out again.
We left mid-morning for another beautiful ride through rural Michigan. Roads were nearly empty and temperatures were cool, if a bit humid.
We worked our way toward where SO grew up, stopping briefly to see her Mom at her work. We talked for a short time heading out to see SO's Grandma. But SO's Grandma was at the hair dresser's so we headed back out toward the Thumb of Michigan.
On one of the rural roads near the center of the Thumb, I saw what I thought was a turkey vulture on the road eating carrion. Once we got closer though, what I saw was a bald eagle taking flight off of the road. The image of the "majestic" bald eagle scavenging a dead possum is one to remember - as well as a metaphor to ponder.
My family has had a few turbulent issues over the last year, so we all decided to get together at a rental house near Lexington, Michigan for a few days.
So I'm going from a visit with an Aunt and Uncle, to SO's Mom, to my family - an unnatural progression if there ever was one.
I very often struggle with the idea that my aunts and uncles are the siblings of my parents. That all those little things that make family the ultimate insider's club also happened to them while they were growing up a generation before I was ever around. That all of life's monumental unfairnesses of living within life's single-digit years happened within that other insider club - so near, yet so far.
It is interesting to look back on the progression from childhood through adolescence and into adulthood and now middle age. If life wasn't fair at 7, there is far more ugly brutality at 47. Yet those things that make the the insider's club persist. "Blood is thicker than water" is an old cliche. It is a worn-out cliche with life or death consequences. Friends will inevitably become acquaintances; acquaintances will become near-strangers who get the occasional Christmas card. But sibling is a label that will always stick.
I look at my nieces and nephews and wonder how their world looks relative to what mine did - how their insider club is a place I can never go, and wouldn't want to.
I look at my siblings and know that there are undeniable DNA-based bonds. My recent exploration of 23andme has shown I have clear DNA bonds to far more people than I'm comfortable with; to far more people than I'll ever know. The DNA isn't really what matters though. What matters is fighting over a stupid plastic cowboy boot. What matters is inventing new card games while watching silly Don Knotts' movies on a summer Saturday afternoon. What matters is building sand forts in huge empty fields and playing with fireworks. What matters are those horrible car trips across the country. What matters is wondering what the statute of limitations is for arson. There is no doubt that despite the fact that what we have in common now seems to decrease every year, siblings will always be the ultimate insider's club.
The next few days could be interesting. The group of us haven't spent the night in the same place since possibly before I could even drive. It is hoped by all that there will be no bloodshed - or maybe just a little bloodshed...
We arrived at the rental house around "check-in" time. The final roads to get there were sand and gravel. These were slightly better than the roads near my Aunt and Uncles, but only slightly. I had gotten a few texts from siblings on the way. The house itself was really nice. It was spacious and had tons of bedrooms. It had a huge kitchen.
Several sitting areas.
I've always wanted a house with a loft.
And the upstairs had space for the kids (and maybe my sister).
Mom and siblings filtered in. Kids started to play games or BS. At some point it started to torrentially rain; I was glad we were off the bike for the day as the sand and gravel roads turned to mud.
We talked for a while before heading out for an overwhelming dinner. I'm not sure who was more entertained by my youngest nephew's Playdough - my nephew or the adults and teens.
The restaurant was good, but the poor waitress was running her fool head off. It was to be expected as a sign on the door said that when times are busy, wait times could be long. It all worked out in the end.
The night ended with games, noise and shenanigans back at the house before turning in for the night.
We talked for a while before heading out for an overwhelming dinner. I'm not sure who was more entertained by my youngest nephew's Playdough - my nephew or the adults and teens.
The restaurant was good, but the poor waitress was running her fool head off. It was to be expected as a sign on the door said that when times are busy, wait times could be long. It all worked out in the end.
The night ended with games, noise and shenanigans back at the house before turning in for the night.
Great Lakes 2018 Day 3 - SS Badger
Manitowoc, Wisconsin to Tustin, Michigan: 66.4 Miles
After another breakfast of gratis hotel waffles, we headed out to see a bit of Manitowoc.
On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik into orbit, effectively starting the space era of human existence. This also set off the space race between the USSR and the USA. Some of us still shudder at the sight of CCCP.
On May 5, 1960, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 4 into orbit, and this was to be the test flight for a future launch which would put a human into orbit. Sputnik 4 was to reenter the earth's atmosphere four days later, but it failed to do so and was lost as one of the first pieces of inadvertent "space junk."
On September 5, 1962, over two years later, it finally found its way back into the unrelenting tug of earth's gravity. Most of it broke up and burned on reentry into the atmosphere, but a chunk of it made it all the way to terra firma in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, landing on 8th avenue. The sidewalk near this spot has a plaque marking the location. The actual landing spot has a brass ring embedded in the road.
So here I am standing on the exact spot where the first salvo was fired in a future space war. It hasn't happened yet, but the Russian's fired the first shot so long ago.
Interestingly, there is a theory, backed by some evidence, that Sputnik 4 was NOT a preparatory flight for a manned space flight, but was in fact an actual manned space flight. Since most of the successes of the early space race days were done quietly and only celebrated after, this could have been kept very quiet by the USSR. This makes the location in Manitowoc a little more macabre. Search Achille and Giovanni Battista for more information on this. And remember that some conspiracy theories really are correct.
All this space mayhem took place right in front of the Rahr art museum, where we also spent some time - if for no other reason than it also houses a replica of the Sputnik chunk. The original was returned to the USSR (it was probably needed for a proper burial).
I can't say fine art is really my thing, but if this one counts, then I guess I like art.
It was fitting that an Andy Warhol of (communist) Mao was at the museum.
There was also a pre-cubist Picasso.
I think this was the first time I got to see a real Dali print in person.
The least Georgia O'Keeffe painting I've ever seen. Maybe I'm looking at it wrong.
The Rahr museum itself is a near work of art as a mansion built in 1893 for Joseph and Mary Vilas. Joe was a successful businessman so the $50,000 it cost to build a 13-room house was money well spent. The entry to the museum is a little bit of a letdown as it is a newer addition that has an institutional feel to it. But much of the art is in the actual house which is a treasure if one ignores the requisite modernization of things like conduit and security cameras.
After revisiting the space race and seeing some art, we spent a short time at the Manitowoc Public Library en route to Lake Michigan. The library was right across the street from the Wisconsin Maritime Museum. We had seen this during a past visit and it would have been nice to do so again since that was so long ago, but timing didn't allow it. The USS Cobia looks as cool (and ominous) as it ever did moored in the channel.
The coelacanth is a fish which has a fossil record going back 66 million years and was "known extinct" - much like the dinosaurs or saber-toothed tigers were known extinct. It was "known extinct" until 1938 when Majorie Courtenay-Latimer "discovered" one at a market in East Africa. Both "known extinct" and "discovered" are in quotes, because they are both wrong. Obviously the fish was not "extinct" since one was available for purchase at a market. It wasn't "discovered" since this was a fish that while not common, was well-known to indigenous people who fished in the area. The fish was also known to be oily and quite foul tasting, and so it was often avoided. But it does illustrate a certain Euro-American-centric ignorance to say that the coelacanth was discovered after it was known to be extinct.
Moving on before this turns into some kind of finger-wagging lecture - which would be an imperfect message from a slightly hypocritical perspective anyway.
A huge coal-fired ferry has no right to exist. Diesel and gasoline replaced coal long ago. Electric also chipped away at it; electric continues to now chip away at petrol. Al Gore has been preaching the message of evil coal for some time (while living his uber-1%er lifestyle). Diesel is more efficient and faster. Wind is very green, although I wouldn't want to depend on a wind-powered ferry. Aircraft carriers are cold-war nuclear clean. But large coal-fired boats are extinct.
Except they are not. The SS Badger is a coelacanth. A huge coal-fired car ferry that carries 180 vehicles and 600 people back and forth across Lake Michigan between Mainotowac and Ludington should not exist in 2018. But it does and we should be glad about that - the coelacanth still swims and eats and mates.
The EPA (and other complainers) have tried to kill the SS Badger off several times. And changes like stopping the dumping of coal fly ash into the lake is a good thing. Still, I fear the SS Badger's days are numbered and it will only be a matter of time until it is shelved and sold for scrap or evolved from the living, breathing museum that it is into another mummified maritime museum. Heaven forbid we lose even more connection to our past and this persistent historic boat gets converted into some Elon-Muskovite electric water-Tesla. No, the world will not stop turning if SS Badger is scuttled. But the world wouldn't end of the coelacanth is killed off either, if it finally earns its "extinct" label.
I wanted to cross Lake Michigan on the coal-fired SS Badger before it is lost to modern-day oversensitivity. I wanted to ride the coelacanth!
Cars are driven on the boat by staff, but motorcycles are handled by their owners. Motorcycles staged near the SS Badger and a ship officer came out and gave us all some instructions on parking. After that, we all rode into the gaping maw of the coelacanth.
Once on the boat, we were directed to park with our front tires against the bulkhead. I had brought four sturdy tie downs, but several guys didn't. The ship had a few which could be used, but I wouldn't want to depend on them in rough waters. Four was almost certainly overkill, but better safe than sorry.
Eventually everyone got their bikes all tied down for the trip across the lake.
SO had to walk on the Badger, so I headed up ship and found her. Access to the car deck is forbidden when under way, but I was allowed briefly back down (before departure) as I had forgotten my sunglasses. It wasn't that I desperately needed them, but I was worried they would fall down into the never never of the coal-fired boat and be used for fuel. When down below I saw a tractor-trailer backing into one of the last available spots. Watching it expertly being put into a very small space was impressive.
Fuel for the boat sits idly by waiting to be used for future crossings. The burning of the coal does produce just a little bit of odor, but it was almost pleasant - in the same way an old barn feels comforting.
Watching the SS Badger pull away from the dock was surreal. The ship feels so huge and the coal burners run continuously so initial movement was almost imperceptible. The ship gains speed fast and announces its leaving with a crazy loud horn.
Many people staked out spots on deck before leaving. Once underway the wind whips up and many fled to more covered ground. We stayed out for a while, enjoying the cooling breezes of Lake Michigan while riding the yesteryear boat and watching Wisconsin fade into the distance.
After a while we headed toward the back of the boat to eat. En route, I looked down to see the parking deck. Originally the SS Badger was designed to carry train cars across the lake. Remnants tracks can still be seen in the decking.
The four-hour transit passed quite quickly on the boat. There is a small museum giving information about the boat (8000 horse power and 167,000 pounds of torque - jeepers steam can be impressive). There is a gift shop, TV lounge, XBox rental, a bar, and two places to eat.
Food on the boat was a little bit pricey, but all in all not too bad. SO and I both got Mexican food and it was actually very tasty. I wouldn't take the trip just for the culinary experience alone, but it wasn't bad as a meal. It probably helped that we were both very hungry.
While tying bikes down I was parked next to a man with a GS. I saw him on the deck and stopped to talk for a while. We talked various past and future adventures. He was a geographic modeler and was heading to Thailand soon to do work on tiger longevity; I just knew there was a story there!
Soon enough the sandy dunes of Michigan began to come into view. Against the blue water and humid haze of Lake Michigan, I could almost hear Eric Johnson playing Cliffs of Dover.
As with departing, watching and feeling the enormous boat pull a 180-degree turn in the water to back into port was impressive.
And then all of the passengers scrambled down and out. Cars were being driven out as I untethered the bike. The lake had been so calm that I'm not even sure that tying down was needed. But as the Arab proverb says: Trust Allah, but tie your camel tight. I eased out of the ship and onto Michigan bitumen.
Avoiding the rush of leaving vehicles, I headed through Ludington and out into Michigan's gorgeous and lightly-traveled rural roads. I was headed to see another of my Uncle and Aunts who have a cottage about an hour from Ludington. The ride there was spectacular. Cool temperatures with phenomenal light from the setting sun.
It took a few minutes on loose gravel and sand to find the cottage, but I kept the behemoth GL1800 upright. We visited for a few minutes until we decided to take advantage of the remaining light to boat around their lake. It was hard to believe we were the only boat out on such a nice night. As the sun set the placid scenery was an amazing end to the day.
This was followed by a "birthday" cake for me, even though my Aunt wasa bit a lot off on when that day is. I was fine with the very tasty mistake though.
I'll have more time to ponder the day, but I'm really glad I fit the SS Badger into our route. No, coal is not the cleanest fuel, but some much of American history (and industrial history around the world) has been built on coal that it just seems wrong to relegate one of the last few huge coal vessels in the US to the scrapheap.
After another breakfast of gratis hotel waffles, we headed out to see a bit of Manitowoc.
On October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik into orbit, effectively starting the space era of human existence. This also set off the space race between the USSR and the USA. Some of us still shudder at the sight of CCCP.
On May 5, 1960, the Soviet Union launched Sputnik 4 into orbit, and this was to be the test flight for a future launch which would put a human into orbit. Sputnik 4 was to reenter the earth's atmosphere four days later, but it failed to do so and was lost as one of the first pieces of inadvertent "space junk."
On September 5, 1962, over two years later, it finally found its way back into the unrelenting tug of earth's gravity. Most of it broke up and burned on reentry into the atmosphere, but a chunk of it made it all the way to terra firma in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, landing on 8th avenue. The sidewalk near this spot has a plaque marking the location. The actual landing spot has a brass ring embedded in the road.
So here I am standing on the exact spot where the first salvo was fired in a future space war. It hasn't happened yet, but the Russian's fired the first shot so long ago.
Interestingly, there is a theory, backed by some evidence, that Sputnik 4 was NOT a preparatory flight for a manned space flight, but was in fact an actual manned space flight. Since most of the successes of the early space race days were done quietly and only celebrated after, this could have been kept very quiet by the USSR. This makes the location in Manitowoc a little more macabre. Search Achille and Giovanni Battista for more information on this. And remember that some conspiracy theories really are correct.
All this space mayhem took place right in front of the Rahr art museum, where we also spent some time - if for no other reason than it also houses a replica of the Sputnik chunk. The original was returned to the USSR (it was probably needed for a proper burial).
I can't say fine art is really my thing, but if this one counts, then I guess I like art.
It was fitting that an Andy Warhol of (communist) Mao was at the museum.
There was also a pre-cubist Picasso.
I think this was the first time I got to see a real Dali print in person.
The least Georgia O'Keeffe painting I've ever seen. Maybe I'm looking at it wrong.
The Rahr museum itself is a near work of art as a mansion built in 1893 for Joseph and Mary Vilas. Joe was a successful businessman so the $50,000 it cost to build a 13-room house was money well spent. The entry to the museum is a little bit of a letdown as it is a newer addition that has an institutional feel to it. But much of the art is in the actual house which is a treasure if one ignores the requisite modernization of things like conduit and security cameras.
After revisiting the space race and seeing some art, we spent a short time at the Manitowoc Public Library en route to Lake Michigan. The library was right across the street from the Wisconsin Maritime Museum. We had seen this during a past visit and it would have been nice to do so again since that was so long ago, but timing didn't allow it. The USS Cobia looks as cool (and ominous) as it ever did moored in the channel.
The coelacanth is a fish which has a fossil record going back 66 million years and was "known extinct" - much like the dinosaurs or saber-toothed tigers were known extinct. It was "known extinct" until 1938 when Majorie Courtenay-Latimer "discovered" one at a market in East Africa. Both "known extinct" and "discovered" are in quotes, because they are both wrong. Obviously the fish was not "extinct" since one was available for purchase at a market. It wasn't "discovered" since this was a fish that while not common, was well-known to indigenous people who fished in the area. The fish was also known to be oily and quite foul tasting, and so it was often avoided. But it does illustrate a certain Euro-American-centric ignorance to say that the coelacanth was discovered after it was known to be extinct.
Moving on before this turns into some kind of finger-wagging lecture - which would be an imperfect message from a slightly hypocritical perspective anyway.
A huge coal-fired ferry has no right to exist. Diesel and gasoline replaced coal long ago. Electric also chipped away at it; electric continues to now chip away at petrol. Al Gore has been preaching the message of evil coal for some time (while living his uber-1%er lifestyle). Diesel is more efficient and faster. Wind is very green, although I wouldn't want to depend on a wind-powered ferry. Aircraft carriers are cold-war nuclear clean. But large coal-fired boats are extinct.
Except they are not. The SS Badger is a coelacanth. A huge coal-fired car ferry that carries 180 vehicles and 600 people back and forth across Lake Michigan between Mainotowac and Ludington should not exist in 2018. But it does and we should be glad about that - the coelacanth still swims and eats and mates.
The EPA (and other complainers) have tried to kill the SS Badger off several times. And changes like stopping the dumping of coal fly ash into the lake is a good thing. Still, I fear the SS Badger's days are numbered and it will only be a matter of time until it is shelved and sold for scrap or evolved from the living, breathing museum that it is into another mummified maritime museum. Heaven forbid we lose even more connection to our past and this persistent historic boat gets converted into some Elon-Muskovite electric water-Tesla. No, the world will not stop turning if SS Badger is scuttled. But the world wouldn't end of the coelacanth is killed off either, if it finally earns its "extinct" label.
I wanted to cross Lake Michigan on the coal-fired SS Badger before it is lost to modern-day oversensitivity. I wanted to ride the coelacanth!
Cars are driven on the boat by staff, but motorcycles are handled by their owners. Motorcycles staged near the SS Badger and a ship officer came out and gave us all some instructions on parking. After that, we all rode into the gaping maw of the coelacanth.
Once on the boat, we were directed to park with our front tires against the bulkhead. I had brought four sturdy tie downs, but several guys didn't. The ship had a few which could be used, but I wouldn't want to depend on them in rough waters. Four was almost certainly overkill, but better safe than sorry.
Eventually everyone got their bikes all tied down for the trip across the lake.
SO had to walk on the Badger, so I headed up ship and found her. Access to the car deck is forbidden when under way, but I was allowed briefly back down (before departure) as I had forgotten my sunglasses. It wasn't that I desperately needed them, but I was worried they would fall down into the never never of the coal-fired boat and be used for fuel. When down below I saw a tractor-trailer backing into one of the last available spots. Watching it expertly being put into a very small space was impressive.
Fuel for the boat sits idly by waiting to be used for future crossings. The burning of the coal does produce just a little bit of odor, but it was almost pleasant - in the same way an old barn feels comforting.
Watching the SS Badger pull away from the dock was surreal. The ship feels so huge and the coal burners run continuously so initial movement was almost imperceptible. The ship gains speed fast and announces its leaving with a crazy loud horn.
Many people staked out spots on deck before leaving. Once underway the wind whips up and many fled to more covered ground. We stayed out for a while, enjoying the cooling breezes of Lake Michigan while riding the yesteryear boat and watching Wisconsin fade into the distance.
After a while we headed toward the back of the boat to eat. En route, I looked down to see the parking deck. Originally the SS Badger was designed to carry train cars across the lake. Remnants tracks can still be seen in the decking.
The four-hour transit passed quite quickly on the boat. There is a small museum giving information about the boat (8000 horse power and 167,000 pounds of torque - jeepers steam can be impressive). There is a gift shop, TV lounge, XBox rental, a bar, and two places to eat.
Food on the boat was a little bit pricey, but all in all not too bad. SO and I both got Mexican food and it was actually very tasty. I wouldn't take the trip just for the culinary experience alone, but it wasn't bad as a meal. It probably helped that we were both very hungry.
While tying bikes down I was parked next to a man with a GS. I saw him on the deck and stopped to talk for a while. We talked various past and future adventures. He was a geographic modeler and was heading to Thailand soon to do work on tiger longevity; I just knew there was a story there!
Soon enough the sandy dunes of Michigan began to come into view. Against the blue water and humid haze of Lake Michigan, I could almost hear Eric Johnson playing Cliffs of Dover.
As with departing, watching and feeling the enormous boat pull a 180-degree turn in the water to back into port was impressive.
And then all of the passengers scrambled down and out. Cars were being driven out as I untethered the bike. The lake had been so calm that I'm not even sure that tying down was needed. But as the Arab proverb says: Trust Allah, but tie your camel tight. I eased out of the ship and onto Michigan bitumen.
Avoiding the rush of leaving vehicles, I headed through Ludington and out into Michigan's gorgeous and lightly-traveled rural roads. I was headed to see another of my Uncle and Aunts who have a cottage about an hour from Ludington. The ride there was spectacular. Cool temperatures with phenomenal light from the setting sun.
It took a few minutes on loose gravel and sand to find the cottage, but I kept the behemoth GL1800 upright. We visited for a few minutes until we decided to take advantage of the remaining light to boat around their lake. It was hard to believe we were the only boat out on such a nice night. As the sun set the placid scenery was an amazing end to the day.
This was followed by a "birthday" cake for me, even though my Aunt was
I'll have more time to ponder the day, but I'm really glad I fit the SS Badger into our route. No, coal is not the cleanest fuel, but some much of American history (and industrial history around the world) has been built on coal that it just seems wrong to relegate one of the last few huge coal vessels in the US to the scrapheap.
Tuesday, August 7, 2018
Great Lakes 2018 Day 2 - Volo Auto Museum
Grayslake, IL to Manitowoc, WI: 166.7 Miles
While an hour may not sound like much, the time change added to my normal early wake-up time had me up painfully early despite feeling like I had slept in forever. The very weird dreams told me that my brain was ready to be up.
After lollygagging for far too long, I had a stupendous gratis hotel breakfast of waffles saturated in syrup. The Volo Auto Museum didn't open until 10:00 which is FAR too late for a museum to open; watching all the other people mill around the hotel I just wanted to scream at them, "Mornings on vacation are the best! Get going people! The museum I'm going to opens late - what is your excuse!"
After surviving the morning, we headed out to Volo. We found the museum easily enough and sat around outside until it opened. The exterior facade was a little grubby. It wasn't off-putting, but the place had the feel like it needed a good scrubbing.
Discount tickets were available online, but without any way to print them out we paid full price. The very nice lady selling us entry allowed us to store our motorcycle coats and helmets behind the counter (THANKS!). The payback for this was SO's small cell phone charger must have fallen out there - not the fault of the Volo Auto Museum but a bit of a bummer.
The museum itself is an odd mix of cars for sale and cars for show. The cars for sale run the gamut, but lean heavily toward modified American Muscle cars. But there does seem to be something for everyone. One of the first signs on entering gives a good premonition on what will be seen: Lots of interesting stuff, not necessarily Pebble Beach restorations. Standing in front of a Duesenberg, this felt refreshingly honest.
One of the first cars I happen to see was a 77-newer MGB - presumably for sale. The telltale coolant leak was a little disconcerting...
Much of the space is a mix of showroom and museum. It was hard for me to tell on much of it whether the prices were reasonable, but for the few vehicles I had some inkling on, they seemed at least not horrible, but not a great deal either. There was this sort of art-on-a-cruise-ship scam feel where every car had an appraised price with an actual price that was below that. When the appraisal is done by the car salesman, be very wary...
This car was for sale at a crazy cheap price until I saw that it was a replica on a corvette body. It was still a pretty good replica.
But it would have to be blown up with dynamite as this one was. Or it wasn't?
Tucked away in a tent was a sadly-filthy car I would actually really like to own - a Fiero GT. These were much different from the garden variety Fieros with the tepid 4-cylinder engine. If I'm honest, this low mileage (<8000 miles) Pontiac just screamed 1980's and the $12,000 wasn't too heinous for what appeared to be a very un-messed-with car. This is probably pretty close to what the MSRP for this car was new (1980 dollars were more real though).
I enjoyed the "Hollywood" cars scattered throughout more than I thought I would. Most of these were not actual movie cars, but were traveling movie adverts, or built by the same builders or tribute cars (basically made by someone who likes shows like Knight Rider?).
What can I say, "We're on a mission from God."
And from another Belushi.
Y'all got your redneck on? This one was actually assembled from other pieces and parts of wrecked General Lee cars. That should tell you something.
Until I saw this and read the description, I had no idea that this Aston Martin was based on the Mustang Chassis while Ford owned it. So replicas take on a whole new complication. And James Bond drove a pony-car?
Excuse me, I gotta go shoot some womp rats with my T-16.
That supercharger alone should give this one away, Mate.
There is another one of these only a few miles away at Historic Auto Attractions. Or is there just one and it time travels between the two??????
Not the actual Bonnie and Clyde death car, but an actual car used by a period huckster to hawk access to the "actual" car. The owner of this one was eventually put in jail for fraud.
Yes, for a time Lamborghini made a tractor. Sadly, it was typically owned by trust fundbabies farmers and caught fire when they over-revved the diesel engine.
A "Harley Davidson" jet bike based on the Nazi V1 "Vengeance" rocket used in WWII. The political implications of the mash-up makes the mind reel...
Nearby is a Harley Scooter. With the current dismal financial state of the MoCo and the myriad of directions they seem to be going now, the commentary on the sign might need to be revised.
I hate, hate, hate motor homes. They are evilly slow, can't turn, obnoxious and are too close to the anti-christ. But seeing some of the immaculate condition old-school editions was quite neat. All motorhomes should stay in this state. And they should stay pristine by not being on the road. Ever.
And I'll end with the car that made the whole trip worth it - a 22,000 mile Ferrari Testarrosa (flanked by a Lamborghini Diablo and Countach - which have somehow avoided catching fire). If the Fiero GT screams 1980s, this car screams successful 1980s. Or maybe it screams cocaine and huge cell phones. Or maybe it just screams since the all-too-frequent belt service costs north of $10k. Actually what really screams are the cheesy Pep-Boys looking fog lights behind the grill...
Which meant that it was time to get back on our 10-year-old Gold Wing and head out. We did spend a little time looking at the Antique Mall - and if you need something - anything - it is there. It is there if you can find it. There were a few neat things to look at there, but it felt a little like a high priced flea market.
Overall the museum was worth the trip. The used car lot plus museum is a much different spin compared to most automotive-based museums I've been to in the past. But other than my $15 entrance fee and a slightly overpriced $2.29 fountain drink, my wallet stayed happily in my pocket.
Guidance before we left was that it takes all day to get through the museum. Three hours was enough so we headed north and found a library to borrow WiFi from for a while. This also got us out of the rain since SE Wisconsin decided it was time to get wet.
After borrowing the Union Grove library's excellent WiFi, we headed into Racine to see my Uncle and Aunt. My uncle had a job similar to my own. Family lore is that my Aunt was the one who potty trained me. If that is true, just think of how different my life would be now without her.
We got to their house and my Aunt had me park in her garage which was most gracious as it was still raining. We talked for a while before sharing a local pizza for dinner. The pizza was super and it was great to catch up with them for a while; my Uncle has a striking resemblance to my dad and isn't doing so good.
With the rain letting up, we hit the road again. My past experience in Milwaukee was repeated in that those sons-a-bitches drive really fast. The speed limits aren't even a suggested place to start. If you want to know if your car can break the sound barrier, just go to Milwaukee - the attempt won't even be noticed.
Once north of Milwaukee the traffic largely vanished. It was getting dark and the clouds created a very gorgeous night with a near ideal temperature of around 70F.
We got to Manitowoc with just enough light (I was still wearing sunglasses) to get gas and ice cream.
Our hotel for the night was not nearly as nice as the previous night. The ubiquitous pictures glued to the wall. The drapes that just don't work right. The sanitized feel of the room without any of the cleanliness. The claustrophobic atmosphere with carpeting and fabrics designed to hide what 10,000 previous people have left behind. Perhaps David Foster Wallace was right; hell may very well be a chain hotel.
But the Cedar Crest ice cream, made right in Manitowoc, was really good.
While an hour may not sound like much, the time change added to my normal early wake-up time had me up painfully early despite feeling like I had slept in forever. The very weird dreams told me that my brain was ready to be up.
After lollygagging for far too long, I had a stupendous gratis hotel breakfast of waffles saturated in syrup. The Volo Auto Museum didn't open until 10:00 which is FAR too late for a museum to open; watching all the other people mill around the hotel I just wanted to scream at them, "Mornings on vacation are the best! Get going people! The museum I'm going to opens late - what is your excuse!"
After surviving the morning, we headed out to Volo. We found the museum easily enough and sat around outside until it opened. The exterior facade was a little grubby. It wasn't off-putting, but the place had the feel like it needed a good scrubbing.
Discount tickets were available online, but without any way to print them out we paid full price. The very nice lady selling us entry allowed us to store our motorcycle coats and helmets behind the counter (THANKS!). The payback for this was SO's small cell phone charger must have fallen out there - not the fault of the Volo Auto Museum but a bit of a bummer.
The museum itself is an odd mix of cars for sale and cars for show. The cars for sale run the gamut, but lean heavily toward modified American Muscle cars. But there does seem to be something for everyone. One of the first signs on entering gives a good premonition on what will be seen: Lots of interesting stuff, not necessarily Pebble Beach restorations. Standing in front of a Duesenberg, this felt refreshingly honest.
One of the first cars I happen to see was a 77-newer MGB - presumably for sale. The telltale coolant leak was a little disconcerting...
Much of the space is a mix of showroom and museum. It was hard for me to tell on much of it whether the prices were reasonable, but for the few vehicles I had some inkling on, they seemed at least not horrible, but not a great deal either. There was this sort of art-on-a-cruise-ship scam feel where every car had an appraised price with an actual price that was below that. When the appraisal is done by the car salesman, be very wary...
This car was for sale at a crazy cheap price until I saw that it was a replica on a corvette body. It was still a pretty good replica.
But it would have to be blown up with dynamite as this one was. Or it wasn't?
Tucked away in a tent was a sadly-filthy car I would actually really like to own - a Fiero GT. These were much different from the garden variety Fieros with the tepid 4-cylinder engine. If I'm honest, this low mileage (<8000 miles) Pontiac just screamed 1980's and the $12,000 wasn't too heinous for what appeared to be a very un-messed-with car. This is probably pretty close to what the MSRP for this car was new (1980 dollars were more real though).
I enjoyed the "Hollywood" cars scattered throughout more than I thought I would. Most of these were not actual movie cars, but were traveling movie adverts, or built by the same builders or tribute cars (basically made by someone who likes shows like Knight Rider?).
What can I say, "We're on a mission from God."
And from another Belushi.
Y'all got your redneck on? This one was actually assembled from other pieces and parts of wrecked General Lee cars. That should tell you something.
Until I saw this and read the description, I had no idea that this Aston Martin was based on the Mustang Chassis while Ford owned it. So replicas take on a whole new complication. And James Bond drove a pony-car?
Excuse me, I gotta go shoot some womp rats with my T-16.
That supercharger alone should give this one away, Mate.
There is another one of these only a few miles away at Historic Auto Attractions. Or is there just one and it time travels between the two??????
Not the actual Bonnie and Clyde death car, but an actual car used by a period huckster to hawk access to the "actual" car. The owner of this one was eventually put in jail for fraud.
Yes, for a time Lamborghini made a tractor. Sadly, it was typically owned by trust fund
A "Harley Davidson" jet bike based on the Nazi V1 "Vengeance" rocket used in WWII. The political implications of the mash-up makes the mind reel...
Nearby is a Harley Scooter. With the current dismal financial state of the MoCo and the myriad of directions they seem to be going now, the commentary on the sign might need to be revised.
I hate, hate, hate motor homes. They are evilly slow, can't turn, obnoxious and are too close to the anti-christ. But seeing some of the immaculate condition old-school editions was quite neat. All motorhomes should stay in this state. And they should stay pristine by not being on the road. Ever.
And I'll end with the car that made the whole trip worth it - a 22,000 mile Ferrari Testarrosa (flanked by a Lamborghini Diablo and Countach - which have somehow avoided catching fire). If the Fiero GT screams 1980s, this car screams successful 1980s. Or maybe it screams cocaine and huge cell phones. Or maybe it just screams since the all-too-frequent belt service costs north of $10k. Actually what really screams are the cheesy Pep-Boys looking fog lights behind the grill...
Which meant that it was time to get back on our 10-year-old Gold Wing and head out. We did spend a little time looking at the Antique Mall - and if you need something - anything - it is there. It is there if you can find it. There were a few neat things to look at there, but it felt a little like a high priced flea market.
Overall the museum was worth the trip. The used car lot plus museum is a much different spin compared to most automotive-based museums I've been to in the past. But other than my $15 entrance fee and a slightly overpriced $2.29 fountain drink, my wallet stayed happily in my pocket.
Guidance before we left was that it takes all day to get through the museum. Three hours was enough so we headed north and found a library to borrow WiFi from for a while. This also got us out of the rain since SE Wisconsin decided it was time to get wet.
After borrowing the Union Grove library's excellent WiFi, we headed into Racine to see my Uncle and Aunt. My uncle had a job similar to my own. Family lore is that my Aunt was the one who potty trained me. If that is true, just think of how different my life would be now without her.
We got to their house and my Aunt had me park in her garage which was most gracious as it was still raining. We talked for a while before sharing a local pizza for dinner. The pizza was super and it was great to catch up with them for a while; my Uncle has a striking resemblance to my dad and isn't doing so good.
With the rain letting up, we hit the road again. My past experience in Milwaukee was repeated in that those sons-a-bitches drive really fast. The speed limits aren't even a suggested place to start. If you want to know if your car can break the sound barrier, just go to Milwaukee - the attempt won't even be noticed.
Once north of Milwaukee the traffic largely vanished. It was getting dark and the clouds created a very gorgeous night with a near ideal temperature of around 70F.
We got to Manitowoc with just enough light (I was still wearing sunglasses) to get gas and ice cream.
Our hotel for the night was not nearly as nice as the previous night. The ubiquitous pictures glued to the wall. The drapes that just don't work right. The sanitized feel of the room without any of the cleanliness. The claustrophobic atmosphere with carpeting and fabrics designed to hide what 10,000 previous people have left behind. Perhaps David Foster Wallace was right; hell may very well be a chain hotel.
But the Cedar Crest ice cream, made right in Manitowoc, was really good.
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