Apr. 24 "All things must pass." (A philosophy I did NOT adhere to back when I was a teacher, by the way.) So our travels for this year have ended as they began, in the cold. We spent last evening in Hamburg, PA., and the temperature went down to 36 during the night. Fortunately, we have heat in the coach, so we were toasty, watching the movie "Nebraska" on the DVD. Highly recommended by the way, despite the fact that it is filmed in black and white. I usually refuse to watch b+w movies, on stubborn principle. Which is why I still haven't seen the Oscar-winning best picture from a few years ago "The Artist". (In my defense, it is silent, black and white, and stars a Frenchman. Strike one, strike two, and strike three, n'est-ce pas?). But last night, I made an exception, and I'm glad I did. Bruce Dern and Will Forte both deserve Oscars for their portrayals of a father and his grown son trying to finally connect on a quixotic road trip at the end of the old man's life. I guess I could relate, though I'm not quite at the end of my life; and I'm traveling with my wife, not my son. But I do often fail to make the connection.

Apr. 23 We awoke today in Virginia, only two days from home. (One, for anyone who could manage to get on the road before noon.) Having just exited the local Waffle House here in "Staunton"where we stayed last night, the open road beckons. Our route this time has not been on 95. We chose a more scenic one that has brought us further inland, and allowed for a greater view of the countryside, which grows less and less green with each passing mile. Routes 77, and then 81 will take us through Virginia, W. Virginia, Maryland, and then into Pennsylvania, where I expect we will spend our last night on the road. At a Dunkin Donuts in Maryland, I experienced a first. The clerk gave me the senior discount without my having asked for it. I couldn't decide whether to be offended or grateful. I decided on grateful. Grateful is always the best decision. Because of course I had meant to ask for the discount; but forgotten until it was too late, after the transaction had already been rung up. How is it that we have no problem noticing that other people are looking old, but when it comes to ourselves, it's a whole different story? I suppose it is the incremental nature of aging, and the fact that we see ourselves in the mirror daily, and others far less often. Or perhaps just our rather remarkable capacity for self- deception. Either way, 56 cents is 56 cents.

Apr. 21 We stayed last night in Savannah, GA.; which was recently voted (by me) one of the best cities in America, principally on the strength of the fact that exit 94 off of the highway has BOTH a Cracker Barrell for Sunday night chicken dinner AND a Perkins for Monday morning breakfast. (For the uninitiated, Perkins has the best pancakes in America. I won't even entertain any debate on that.) When I was paying the bill in the Cracker Barrell last night, I mentioned we were traveling, and the manager asked from where? When I said New Jersey, he commented that we were a long way from home. I said we were in our RV, and he asked "Will you be staying over with us tonight?" (Cracker Barrell permits RV's to park in the lot overnight.) I replied that we would. He smiled and said "Our only requirement is that you join us again for breakfast in the morning." I assured him that we would, knowing full well that Perkins pancakes were available not more than a half a mile away. When you're on the road, a certain outlaw mentality takes over. It just does.

Apr. 20 Having finally broken free of the considerable gravitational pull of Daytona, we are reluctantly headed north. We stayed overnight last night at the awkwardly named "Gamble Rogers Memorial State Recreation Area At Flagler Beach". Until 1992, the place was known just as "Flagler Beach State Recreation Area"; but when a camper named Gamble Rogers lost his life in a (successful) attempt to rescue another camper from drowning, the place was re-named in his honor. Turns out that you may know who Gamble Rogers was, even though you don't recognize his name. He played lead guitar for the sixties group called "The Serendipity Singers". I remember their name, and have been wracking my brain to recall what the title of their hit song was. I think it may have been "Walk Right In" ("...sit right down, Daddy let your mind roll on..."). Hey, it was the sixties, what can I tell you? According to the brochure, Roberts was also a buddy of Jimmy Buffett, and they toured Florida together in Buffett's pre-fame days. The beach was beautiful and we took a long walk; but we didn't go in the water, just to be on the safe side. I have my doubts that Jimmy Buffett would be quite so self sacrificing.

Apr. 17 Turns out that rather than our usual "walkabout", we are having a "staycation" this year here near Daytona. Our niece, who lost her Dad in December, seems happy to have our company; and she is filling the void for Lorraine that our daughter has left vacant. So they both seem reluctant for us to move on. As for me, I'm just glad to have been invited along on this vacation, if you know what I mean. There's a pool here, I have my guitar; and there's lots of "early bird specials". I really don't require much more than that.

April 15 Despite my earlier profession of undying love for the southwest, it really is hard to dislike Florida. Just today for example, I was sitting poolside when I felt light raindrops. It got a little steadier, but THE SUN KEPT SHINING THE WHOLE TIME! It was about 85 degrees, and the rain felt wonderful and cooling. How can you hate that? Later in the day, we went to Dunkin' Donuts for "Happy Hour" (half price drinks) and free with-fi. This particular DD only stays open till 7PM. So we were closing up the place. But before we left, the guy behind the counter came over and put a box of a dozen donuts on our table and said "They're yours if you want them." I graciously accepted, just to be polite. And then I ate 3 of them. Just to be polite. Ya gotta love Florida.

4/14 The title of this blog has always been "Travels With Logan"; but astute readers may have noticed that he has yet to make an appearance so far this year. We are traveling in the RV without the old man (at least THAT one) for the first time. He is 13 and has bad arthritis, and cannot get up and down the steps into and out of the RV without being carried. Our son Paul is at home in Jersey and taking better care of him there than we could on the road. So we travel on without Logan. It makes things less crowded in the coach, and I like it; but Lorraine misses him. A lot. Paul gave us a book on CD for Christmas that we listened to in the rig on the way down. It is "Cesar's Way" by Cesar Millan ("The Dog Whisperer".). In it, he gives his detailed instructions on the proper ways to train your dog. I have to say that it's a good thing that Logan was not in the vehicle hearing that CD. Apparently we did every possible thing wrong; and there could be a major lawsuit if he got wind of this. He's a wonderful doggie, but as you may know, spaniels are extremely litigious. It's really not his fault; it is in the breed.

April 13 Lorraine and I have this attraction to the whole cowboy and Indian culture (he said, as if they were one and the same). We are missing the southwest, even though we found the sunshine we were craving here in Florida, and lots of little lizards. So today, we went to a "Native American Festival", also known as: "You've ripped us off for 500 years white man, now it's our turn." That's actually not true. The stuff there was beautiful, and priced as it should be. A lot of work goes into it. Prices at this festival were much more affordable than at the "pow-wow" we go to in Southampton each Labor Day weekend. Even the Indians there are Hamptonites. The tribe out there is the Shinicocks, and they have the town of Southampton over a barrel right now. After achieving official recognition as a tribe from the U. S. government a few years ago, they then filed an application to build a casino. The Hamptonites are going crazy at the prospect of waves of additional traffic inundating their pristine little hamlets. I think there is a deal in the works whereby Southampton is offering to buy them a piece of land somewhere else to build their casino. ANYWHERE else. If you have a large enough backyard, let Southampton know. They will make you a VERY attractive offer.

4/10 The RV is still in dry dock here in Port Orange (near Daytona) as we continue to visit with our niece who has a condo near the beach with a pool, and cable TV. Add to that, the local Dunkin' Donuts has a "Happy Hour" each day from 3 to 6 PM when drinks are half price. Absolutely no reason to move on. At least until she calls the police. Doing a lot of sitting around while the ladies pursue their various interests. Consequently, I've been reading a lot. At the one end of the spectrum, I highly recommend a book titled "Outcasts of Eden", a joint biography of Louisa May Allcott and her father Bronson. It's a scholarly, but extremely readable account of the whole transcendental scene in and around Concord, Mass. in the 19th century. A fascinating period that has always piqued my interest ever since "Walden" was a must-read back in the 60's. On the other end of the spectrum, "You Can Run, But You Can't Hide" by "Dog, the Bounty a Hunter", of reality television fame. Not well written, so I guess he really did write it himself. I kind of enjoyed it, in a guilty pleasure sort of way; but I took the precaution of removing the dust cover whenever I was reading it in public, so that I wouldn't have to explain myself.

4/8 One of the things you see a lot in Florida is car shows. Wherever there is a park, or an outdoor parking lot, a collection of vintage Chevys is likely to appear before too long. On Sunday we went to one that was dedicated to old Volkswagons. There were hundreds of them there, lovingly restored by clearly deranged enthusiasts who all seemed determined to pour huge amounts of money that they will never recoup into these reminders of their lost youth. VW’s, in particular, seem to inspire fierce loyalty from owners, and even former owners like me. For a lot of us, they were our first cars, and probably represented freedom, mobility, and independence to our adolescent psyches. And when you see them now, all these years later, they still exert a pull on the heartstrings. You can say what you want about those darn Nazis, and some of it is probably even true; but they knew how to make cute little cars, didn’t they?

4/6 I heard last week that David Letterman has announced his retirement, effective sometime next year. The end of an era, for sure. I always liked him better than Leno; better even than Carson, who always seemed to be of a different generation from me. And I guess that’s why it is time for Letterman to go. His generation (and mine) is no longer running the game. I was thinking that maybe he might benefit from this “Top Ten List” that I wrote in my Christmas letter in the year that I retired. So if you should run into him, pass it on. Top 10 Reasons Why You Too Should Be Retired: 10. Bedtime: whenever you get sleepy. 9. Get up: whenever you are no longer sleepy. 8. No need to deal with that annoying distinction between “work clothes” and “play clothes” 7. The only time you get a rainy weekend is when it rains seven days in a row. 6. If you sleep till noon, you can’t get into any trouble in the morning. 5. No F.I.C.A.!! 4. Other people lower their expectations for your personal hygiene. 3. Rambling incoherence no longer seen as an anomaly. 2. No one pressuring you to finish lists if you run out of ideas. And the #1 reason why you too should be retired…two words: “Free Money”!!

2014

On our way to Florida, we passed through a place in Virginia where we saw a road sign advertising “Prince William Recreational Area”. Lorraine asked me who Prince William was. I replied that he was probably someone from the British royal family back in the day when the area was first colonized. But she wouldn’t let it go. It didn’t seem right to her that here in America, where we have no titled nobility, a public facility should be named after a bloody English lord! After a while, I had to agree, and I told her so. “Believe me Lorraine, as offended as you are, I am even more offended. Why? First, because I take offense easily (What? That’s a crime now??); and second, because of my well-known and long-standing animosity to anything British. Having settled the matter temporarily, we decided to let it go until sometime in the future when we can return to the area for a more extended stay, get elected to local office, and right this wrong once and for all. Later in the evening, we went to Cracker Barrel for their fabulous Sunday night fried chicken dinner. And trust me, if you were here, you would too. It has the batter right on the meat, the skin having been removed. As it always should have been, right? Anyway, Lorraine couldn’t finish hers, and wanted a take home box for it. I called the waitress over and explained the situation, asking her opinion. “Lindsay”, I said, “perhaps you could settle this for us. You see, my wife thinks she needs to take the rest of her chicken home; but gentleman that I am, I offered to finish it right now so that she doesn’t have to. What do you think we should do?” Sensing that her tip was riding on the answer, Lindsay diplomatically replied that when she takes home her leftovers, her boyfriend generally eats it before she can ever get to it. She and Lorraine bonded over that one, and the 20% was assured.