REAXblog

Okay, so last I left you, Micah and I were on the dark side of I-80, probably near Streetsboro, OH - but you can’t be sure. We sat in the van, flashers on, as semi’s and minivans wizzed by at impossible speeds. It wasn’t all that warm, and it was late - maybe around 930 or 10pm.

I sat there for a minute or two, considering what to do. I had the Triple-A card in my wallet and a working cell-phone, but I knew the New Jersey was a lot more than the 100 miles of free towing that would get.

“Worse case scenario, I can rent a car,” Micah said, but that didn’t make me feel too much better. My entire life was packed into that van and I couldn’t see much making it into the back of a Chevy Matrix. Also, it would cost a ton, and would cost time. I slammed the steering wheel, and hopped out to grab a pint of oil from the back. Micah had pulled so far over I almost fell into the ditch, but luckily remained upright.

We’d given it about 10 minutes to cool down under my suggestion, and I poured two quarts in, and then we waited again. Micah received a call from Foy, whom I’m sure was laughing on the other end of the phone. I suppose it was somewhat funny, but I was pissed. As far as I was concerned, crossing the Cascades, the Rockies, and through the heat of South Dakota (The Badlands in particular) were the major challenges - not a relatively busy highway in Middle America. This wasn’t supposed to be an issue.

After waiting awhile, Micah revved the engine back up, and I scanned the map for the nearest campsite. Getting off the road seemed appropriate. Micah pulled back on to the road, and Van Go’s power seemed a bit low - but we were back cruising at around 60-65 in no time, with no sign of enging stutters that had concerned me before. We turned off the Ohio Turnpike at exit 232 and followed route 11 through North Lime, and towards Beaver Creek State Park, which we knew nothing about. The dark and intermittently lit road slid over hill and dale, with few other cars or buildings along the way. We’d occasionally pass through small towns - places with populations in the 3 digits, but soon enough be off in the wild. Micah drove the way he does, which concerned me, but I figured now was the time to keep my mouth shut.

We eventually made Beaver Creek state park after about 45 minutes and pulled in. Immediately we see two big, unoccupied teepees, and I was thinking “Score!” in my head. Unfortunately there were reservation tags on them, so despite being unoccupied, we couldn’t use them. It was too late to set up the tent (and I was a bit flustered), so Micah simply plopped his sleeping bag on the ground while I carved out a space in the back seat of the van, and attempted to read Kavalier and Kray. My flashlight batteries waned quickly, and I decided to save the last few minutes for a real situation, and, at some point, fell asleep.