Peg and I got up around 8:00 AM and fortified ourselves with coffee and maybe some Irish Creme. After sustained effort at avoiding productive work, we relented and boarded Charlotte for some cruising around the local area. We started by driving east on some little nameless roads until we reached a great roadside veggie stand where we were also delighted to find they sold fresh fruit pies. $25 worth of pie and corn and squash and plums and apple butter later, we loaded the booty into the truck and drove further west to a place called Bendelewski and Son meats in Madison. I was disgusted with myself because of a complete lack of restraint which resulted in us acquiring steak and sausage and more sausage and bacon and maybe some other meaty stuff. We then took all our loot home and stuck it in the fridge.
After securing our newly-acquired treasure, we re-boarded Charlotte for an aimless search for covered bridges. Despite not having any real idea where they were, we managed to visit not less than 5 covered bridges and spotted a couple other specimens as we drove by accidentally. They seem to be everywhere around here.
After the bridge hunt, we took off by dead reckoning headed north until we arrived on the south shore of Lake Erie. We followed the shore highway west until we reached the town of Ashtabula. Ashtabula is a little port town with a small harbor that appears to handle mostly bulk coal. They were loading a freighter at the docks. We drove around town a bit, admiring the gorgeous houses before heading south on Hwy 11 back towards our campsite.
Ashtabula County has a bunch of Amish types that move about on the roads by horse-drawn carriage or wagons. Their horses are big, healthy draft animals like Percherons and Clydesdales since these folks use their animals to pull farm equipment like plows and harrows. In addition, this county may also be one of the pothole capitals of the world, at least on the rural roads. In combination, these two characteristics result in a conditions regularly presented to drivers of being forced to quickly choose between allowing your wheels to be plunged into an enormous, yawning hole in the road or running over an enormous pile of shit.
On the way home we ran by what would be a real novelty in California – a drive-in beer and wine store where you can pick up a half case of shandy or ale without even shutting off the engine. What an excellent concept. We pulled in and got some tobacco for me and shandy for Peg. Unfortunately, they had no porter. A crisis may develop if we don’t find some soon.