I think I first met Chris in 1991. We both worked at "the shop" that summer - doing much of the crap-boy work. I suppose there may have been a bit of initial antagonism, who was going to get to do the better work. But this was quickly overshadowed by a lot in common while also enjoying the best job of our lives - even if we didn't know it at the time. Chris went back to school during the fall while I continued working as much as I could during college. We worked together during the summers. I was in awe of his ability to get to know people so quickly - how people gravitated toward his intellect and sense of humor. Our shared tastes went beyond British cars, we had similar interests in movies, beer and music... I vividly recall how we both decided to come in early one day to listen to the entirety of Pink Floyd's The Wall. We restarted after the first play of the CD (or was it a cassette?) at a greatly increased volume. When Caroline came in later that morning, she walked into the back of the shop, and walked out, shaking her head.
We have both also subsequently gravitated toward a similar interest in two-wheeled transportation.
We had - and have - a lot in common. Yet it has been interesting trying to observe as a third party how our lives have diverged. Chris: kids, small businesses. Me: curmudgeon and travel for any reason. So when I saw Chris was throwing himself a 50th, I had to go.
I've known Mark for longer than Chris. Susan invited me to stay at their place for Chrisapalooza - I hope the offer was genuine as I am headed there. It takes effort to stay in touch with old friends, especially when separated by hundreds of miles. FaceBook and the occasional text message can only do so much.
The past week has been a horror show at work. When I constantly find myself saying, "I only have to do this for five more years," it tells me I may not be able to do this for five more years. But a recent new hire asked me a few weeks ago what I would tell someone like him who was just starting out. My response was to know that nothing is permanent. So enjoy the good times and suffer through the bad (note to self). But at least I was able to shut down with enough time to get the lawn mowed which was good.
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Home to Lowell, MI: About 300 Miles
There was no reason to rush out the door, so with an exquisitely cool morning, I took the older dog on a walk around the block. Once back at home, it was a quick exercise to pack up a few things and head out the door. Temperatures were near perfect in the 60's with bright sunshine. The sun made it really hard to see the GPS, even with the shade on. It was a good thing I knew (mostly) where I was going.
About 15 minutes from home I hit a road-closed construction area with no posted detour. This was a bad omen since there was on and off construction nearly the entire way up to Michigan. It added time and quite a bit of frustration to the drive north. And with it being Friday afternoon, traffic was not light either.
I still made the best of the drive. My thoughts were my own which is a really good state of mind to live in.
I got to Mark and Susan's house after about six hours. Mark was fixing the shifter on an Acura SUV and he had a few other projects going on as well. We caught up for a few minutes. But the campground where they spend most of their summer was having lot assignments the following morning, so Mark and I jumped in his jeep to go up there for the night.
We drove up to Hardy Dam Pond - which is actually more lake than pond. The campground was quite empty, but the lot next to Mark's trailer was occupied by a small group playing music loudly.
We took Mark's pontoon boat out onto the lake. Mark did some fishing, but I mostly heckled at him from my comfy seat since I didn't have a fishing license - although I did chuck a lure in for a few minutes. Mark caught a few bluegill and one tiny perch.
As it got dark, we gave up on fishing and putzed around in the dark a bit before heading back in for the night.
The neighbors had really turned up the noise to a level that I would have found embarrassing. It would have been one thing if everyone had been hootin' and hollerin' but these jack-wads were the only ones. They were still going at it when Mark and I turned in for the night. Thankfully I always travel with ear plugs. The ear plugs only did so much... It seemed almost personal to be right next to the noisiest neighbors in the campground.
Oh well, it was still a good day.
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