Day Two
After eating a quick breakfast, we resumed a long, rainy drive, filled with big trucks and limited visibility as we traversed Ohio on our way to Chicago. Many years ago I heard a song called, “Why, Oh Why, Oh Why-O, Did I Ever Leave Ohio”. Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s raining cats and dogs and the trucks are as thick as thieves, and we’re hydroplaning our way to Chicago. As a sidebar, I’d like to say that the American trucker is one of the most courteous, able, talented driver on any road in America. Drafting a bigrig at 80 miles/hr. in the rain is also a very large thrill!
With Rick driving, it was my turn to navigate and, lo and behold, (whatever that means) on the map 40 miles east of Chicago was another town with a French name, La Porte, Indiana. Of course we stayed there, hoping that a town with a French name would bless our trip. Yeah, right! Our local restaurant, the R-----, had some of the worst chicken I had ever tasted. The Roadkill Cafe in Texas had possum that tasted better. Our motel room was very nice, and the Olympics were on each evening during our trip which helped pass the time and consequently saved Rick’s and my friendship.
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