A day full of little things

From a seat eight feet in the air, butterflies are no longer quite so anonymous.

In a car, you hardly see them. They're just flickers as they come up to the windshield, get caught in the bow wave of compressed air you're pushing in front of you, and go flying helplessly over the top of the car.

Or not.

From my seat, I can see them thirty or forty yards ahead, working their way across the highway. Getting tossed around by the wakes of passing cars like a feather in a dust devil, then recovering and flapping laboriously on. If you're not careful you'll find yourself cheering them on.

Don't. Enough of them lose to get you down if you let it.

The things that pass through your mind when you've got this much time for it...

* * *

Pulled into a rest stop in West Virginia, took care of the immediate problem, and came back out to the truck. Parked just past it were a pickup truck, a car, and three vans. Judging by the logos on the vans, they were presumably a church group on an outing.

All three vans were enthusiastically window-painted (with that colorful stuff they sell for the job now that white shoe polish is out of style). The one in the center had a logo just odd enough to catch my eye.

HONK IF YOU LOVE JESUS
HAKUNA MATATA

Hmm.

A closer look showed me another window with a title: “SIMBA VAN”.

Ah.

And the one in front was the “RUDOLPH VAN,” with snowflakes all over and a red pointy furry cap painted on the back window.

In back was the “STITCH VAN.”

I wonder what the age group was...

* * *

The Maryland Welcome Center on I-68 Eastbound is closed at the moment, but the rest of the rest area is still usable.

It's on the side of a small mountain (or a big hill, depending on how you look at it). There are three parking lots terraced upward from the Interstate: one for cars; one for cars pulling trailers, RV's, etc.; and one for tractor-trailers. Long steep stairways link each one to the one above it. The restrooms, vending areas, Welcome Center (when it's open), etc. are at the top.

Guess where the lot for semi's is.

Oh, well. I needed the exercise. And the refreshment prices in Maryland rest areas are noticeably better than they are in West Virginia.

Oh, and the view! The valley spread out in front of you, forest and field and a fair-sized lake. There's even a fair-sized shade tree to stand under while you admire it. I cheerfully took advantage of that. (Actually there were two, but the other had a picnic table under it. Which was occupied. No need to be rude...)

Walking back down, I noticed they'd put a couple of portapotties down on the truckers' level, for those of us who weren't up to the climb. Thoughtful of them. I didn't notice them until I got back, of course.

Just as well. It was nice.

* * *

Had my first blowout today.

Just driving down the road, minding my own business, and something went “boom!” behind me. I looked back hurriedly and saw a huge strip of tire tread bouncing out from under the trailer. Many flapping noises, but the trailer didn't swerve or try to pull me around, so I drifted over to the shoulder and slowed down as fast as I could.

The shoulder was about as wide as the rig. If I stopped, I (and whoever they sent to fix the flat) would have about six inches on either side of the trailer. Since what would be six inches away on one side would be 65-mph traffic, I found I wasn't thrilled with that position. So, emergency lights flashing, I crept up the shoulder at about 15 mph, looking for a wide spot to park.

I found it about a mile up the road, just before the next exit. The margin for moving around was a good two feet here. Maybe more. So I got on the satcom and told the company where I was and what had happened. Then I sat for two hours waiting for a repair truck. And the tech spent another hour or so replacing the tire.

Not very exciting. Only one tire had blown, and the other one in that pair had held the weight until I found a good stopping place. It had happened within ten miles of a repair shop my company deals with already, so no fuss there. And there were minimal complications (when that much rubber goes flying off that fast, ugly things can sometimes happen).

No complaints. In a situation like that, boring is good.

* * *

Somebody in the next room is trying to sell a python. Sounds like a good stopping place.

G'nite.