Return To the Killing Fields

LA/XC-5 DAY TWO AND THREE: POSTING FROM DES MOINES, IOWA

Two-day mileage from Austintown (suburb of Youngstown), OH to Des Moines, IA: 770.4

Total LA/XC-5 mileage: 1,230.6

Road Music:  Saturday: Sirius Cycle (stuck with “The Spectrum” for awhile — enjoyed the wide range, everything from Florence + the Machine to Neil Young); then, my “Hank’s 300 Favorites” playlist; Sunday: NFL Radio’s Sunday Drive — all day!

Weather leaving Austintown Saturday morning: 68 degrees and partly

cloudy

Weather arriving Des Moines Sunday night: 64 degrees, rosy red sunset (reached high of 84 on the road)

Two-day state tally: 4 (Ohio, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa)

Gas money to date: $113.81

Veteran Beagle Man followers will no doubt remember the Centennial Beach Massacre, when Amazing Grace, my friend Laura’s harrier mix, single-handedly tracked down, killed, and in

rapid succession, devoured an entire family of bunny rabbits along the shores of Lake Michigan.  Morbidly, I couldn’t resist returning to the scene of the crime, so on Saturday, Laura and Grace and Kemba and I went down to that same stretch of dog-friendly beach in Winnetka, IL.  This time, though, no carnage.  Just Kemba madly dashing into the surf after tennis balls, and Grace doing her sniffing thing along the sea wall.  Alas, there would be no rabbit stew for Grace that night.

Left my room at the Double Tree by Hilton in Rosemont, IL (near O’Hare) yesterday morning at 9:30, congratulating myself for already having fed and walked my partner, done a bunch of writing and emailing, made my next couple of days’ motel reservations and found corresponding dog parks, located a Buffalo Wild Wings in Des Moines, my next stop, to watch

the Jets game, etc., etc.  But as I was patting my back over the Swiss precision of my first three days on the road (BIG knock on wood!), I realized that a lot of the credit has to go to my stalwart co-pilot.  The little red duck dog listens intently (head tilted, of course) to everything I ask him to do . . . and

then does it.  He’s been an absolutely perfect and wonderful dog so far on this trip.  (Last night, he got up from his doggy bed and began staring at me.  I asked, “Do you need to go out and pee?”  But he just kept drilling me with those intense brown eyes.  Ah!  I then noticed it was 9:15.  His dinner time is 9.  At least someone’s keeping track.)

After our super-smooth get-away from Rosemont, I GPSed to our morning play session about three miles from the hotel.  And there I saw my first-ever Members Only dog park!  Being a law-abiding citizen by nature, I considered turning around and finding a “public” one . . . but Kemba was already in fetch fever pitch, and this wouldn’t go over well.  So I figured we’d go in (assuming we didn’t need some kind of key card for entry!), and if somebody said something, I’d offer to pay a daily rate.  This being Park Ridge, in the friendly midwest, they’d say fine.  Turns out there was no need to worry.  There was not a single other person or a single other dog there during our whole stay.  I guess the membership at this Members Only club is pretty exclusive.

I headed for the car in high spirits: another successful dog park visit to start the day, and beautiful weather for traveling!  Here’s me at that moment, from notes taken verbatim off my voice recorder:  “This is about the greatest thing you can do!  Drive across the country on a September football Sunday!  Listen to NFL Radio’s Sunday Drive!  All the best parts of all the games!”  Simultaneously, on another station, I had the Mets going — and they were in the process of blasting the Phillies 17-0!!  Six hours later, though, after watching my Jets humiliate themselves, losing to the Kansas City Chiefs and committing eight turnovers in the process, I was no longer so high on life.

All right, here’s my question to you:  How many dogs from Westport, CT can claim to be regulars at the Austintown Township dog park?  You heard me.  Kemba and I checked in as we pulled into town Thursday night, and again as we left Friday morning.  Friendly people in that town.  Young Jensen was thrilled to meet me: a real live author!  I think she thinks I’m a lot more famous than I am.  (Don’t tell.)  She’s already started reading my Super Hoops series, and has been sending me very sweet “safe travels” texts over the last two days.

Today I finish the “I’s” — Indiana, Illinois, Iowa — and head for the Cornhusker state.  There is no “I” in Nebraska.

RANDOM ROAD NOTES:

•  Carol, who’s more used to driving distances on a scale of, say, from our house to Walgreens, gets a huge kick when I tell her the directions I get from my GPS lady.  Like yesterday, for instance, I turned onto I-80West toward Cleveland yesterday:  “Follow the instate for 354 miles.”  (GPS Lady pronounces “miles” as “molls” — as in gun molls.  Very charming.)

•  Hit the 1,000-mile mark yesterday at Rock Falls, IL, just before crossing into Iowa.

•  Was trailing a livestock trailer on I-88 in Illinois.  As I paid my toll, I was staring at a horse’s ass.

•  Passed Grinnell, IA, at 1,170 miles, but there was no one there to stop for this time.

(Where have you gone, Luke?)

•  Overhead digital sign:  “Construction ahead.  Expect delays.”  What else would I expect on I-80.  The worst of the east-west interstates.

•  Most enchanting roadside sign:  MISHIWAKA (town in Indiana)

•  You might have seen Carol’s comment on my first LA/XC-5 post, expressing doubts about her travel plans after reading my less-than-stellar review of the Best Western in Austintown.  So I sent her a photo ( above right) of the one I’m checking out of now, telling her it was much, much better.  She texted me back: “Looks like a whorehouse.”  I’m not sure about this traveling together business . . .

I PLAN TO POST AS CLOSE TO DAILY AS POSSIBLE WHILE KEMBA AND I ARE ON THE ROAD. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY: MAN PLANS, GOD LAUGHS.  🙂  OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK, TWITTER, AND INSTAGRAM.