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!
Born in Baltimore and raised in Cincinnati, I have lived on both coasts and driven back and forth across the country a number of times. I now have the "midlife opportunity" to do so on two wheels.
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