Sweet home, Chicago

I said I was always a bit nostalgic here. It's bad this time. The weather is fine, the city is beautiful, everything seems great. I know it's no better than Pittsburgh and I would be very lonely without Robin and Steve. Actually, I've already seen all of my cousins except for one who is scheduled for tomorrow night. I'm not sure what I'll do on Wednesday, which is supposed to be my last day. There is certainly more to see and do, just nothing that seems pressing.

I got quite a few comments on my healthcare post. I'm pleased so many people came to read it. I'll try to answer some of the comments as soon as I return home. While I'm traveling I've been working on a variety of computers, mostly very slow. Sometimes keeping the blog is agony, like right now.

As I drove to Chicago I was listening to a book on CDs written by a guy who sold fake Salvador Dalis. Of course, the whole thing was about money. Finally, somewhere near the far end of Ohio all that money talk penetrated my consciousness and I realized I had forgotten money. I took $400 from the ATM machine Tuesday before I left and put it away at home. So there I was, no ATM card, no pin number for my charge card and $60 in cash, $10 of which would be promptly paid to the Ohio toll road people. I started thinking about which of my relatives I would hit up for cash, but it wasn't necessary. I charged gas and restaurants on the Door County part of the trip and my companions paid me in cash. I shouldn't have any trouble getting back to Pittsburgh.

On one of my first driving trips to from Chicago to New York we were stopped by a state trooper on our return trip. I don't remember whether it was in Indiana or Ohio, but it was a scam. We looked very young and he had us. Hauled us off the road to a justice of the peace who wanted $50–a huge sum in 1955. With four of us in the car we had only $35 all together, and he took it. We had to stop for gas and something to eat and forced the gas station to take a check. By the time we got back to Chicago we were down to 88 cents, less than a quarter of a tank of gas and one tire that needed repairs. I haven't thought about that in many years.

2 thoughts on “Sweet home, Chicago

  1. You can’t trust anybody, can you? I got stopped on my first drive to Pittsburgh from Florida (alone) by a trooper in South Carolina. I hadn’t done anything wrong; he just thought I should get off the road and check into a motel just up the road. I told him it was a good idea and I would. Then he asked what I had planned for the rest of the evening (implying he would “show me around”). I drove on–not to the next exit and the motel he told me about, but the one after that, a Holiday Inn where I got a double room for $10 (a small fortune for me then) but it seemed more secure than other motels at the time. I learned early!

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