We left Lapeer thinking we were heading for Port Huron but uninspiring roads led to a mid course redirect to St. Clair, which may have been fortunate as I later received a cryptic message from Dan Vance to avoid the Canadian city on the other side of Port Huron.

But our hopes for a bikers’ delight along our new route were soon dashed by crappy roads and the gathering of ominous storm clouds between us and St. Clair. Alerted by ozone’s foreboding aroma, Roger elected to turn back and wait for the storm to pass. Disinclined to be so sensible, I decided to see how far I could get and continued on with the hope of eluding the deluge.

Along the way, this fellow came over to question my judgment:

Soon after this inter species colloquy, I had reason to beat a hasty retreat north toward the blue skies and ample sun that mockingly bathed where Port Huron lay. I ended up adding several miles to my route as I raced north and then cut east above the storm before rolling south into town along the beautifully blue St. Clair river.

Our accommodations for the evening were right on the water in a fine old hotel for which the local gentlefolk collectively raised the money back in the 1920s as a way to attract the tourist trade:

Roger had arrived before me, and because of an intervening staff change, when I showed up the desk clerk would not let me in until Roger vouched for my identity. Since we couldn’t raise him, I went off to get some lunch and ended up taking two slices of very good pizza around to a local coffeehouse-wine bar where the lovely Avery “poured” me a glass of house made wine from a soda gun!
It was actually fairly decent, and Roger and I ended up returning for dinner though it was the first time I felt the need to skim the foam off my wine!

(Because I know many of you are puzzled by the mysterious gaps in this chronological account and are no doubt formulating theories to explain what happened during those missing days, I have hereby resolved to relate the salient events as I choose to remember them.)

Having survived the widow maker’s run from Davison, I got into Lapeer and learned of the existence of a reputable Mexican restaurant in the historic downtown. Roger, as a lifelong New Yorker, doesn’t know from Mexican food and so could not be persuaded to join me.

Along the way, I came across this fine library:

And to avoid boring you with too much information, I took a picture of this sign that you can only read part of!

Roger and I have had comically bad luck in missing small town summer events such as rodeos, tractor pulls and county fairs. But we have seen auto shows – the corvettes in Spearfish and the muscle cars somewhere in Michigan. We managed to miss Lapeer Days, but I did see another car show:

However, I’ve decided the appeal is fairly lost on me. I can’t feel nostalgic about something that never interested me, and our country’s love affair with the automobile has a lot to answer for and will not be indulgently looked back upon by future generations.

So I went to dinner and ordered up one of these:

and had some delicious carnitas:

While eating at the bar, I had an interesting conversation with a woman who competes in combined driving – which I learned is sort of a horse and carriage triathlon event consisting of dressage, marathon and obstacle events.

My indifference to car shows notwithstanding, I was happy to accept Darlene’s kind offer to drive me back to the motel!

Let us go then, you and I,
When the tomatoes ripen beneath the sky

…

Do I dare to eat a tomato?

Well, duh

(thank you, thank you)

Today Roger and I go our separate ways as I turn southward to begin my approach to DC. More on all this later but I take my leave with great regret. I have had an amazing time crossing the country with Roger and will miss his company greatly.

Good riding my friend; now more than ever I look forward to reading your blog!

Off to Canada for a couple of days -should I buy a data package???