Drive

The roads here in Cleveland are pathetic. Seriously bad. This is coming from someone who rode in the backseat of a Buick LeSabre station wagon in the mid 80s on Detroit's I-275 (much of which could barely pass for 'paved'), learned that much of Oklahoma STILL barely passes for paved once outside of the cities, and currently navigates the streets of Boston -- convinced that my car could sink right down into a spontaneously created section of the harbor at any moment.

Yet they've been perfect to navigate for the last couple of days as Dad and I have attempted to get out of the hospital/hotel/campus environment and wander aimlessly. Funny thing is, this could have been any weekend day 20 years ago. I remember countless times, Dad saying 'let's go for a drive', which meant we had a roundtrip ticket to nowhere in particular. I remember one said drive during the excruciatingly hot drought-summer of 1988 in Illinois, where we drove out to Dixon (boyhood home of Ronald Reagan), sat on a bench in some state park that should have been lush and green but was roasted into a yellowy-brown earthen, and ate a lunch from a cooler that he had packed earlier. There were probably a billion other places I wanted to be as a 14 year old. I like that I have that scorching hot day burned into my brain instead.

Friday, we took a drive to nowhere in particular...through Shaker Heights for a some lunch; down through Southeast Cleveland's suburbs to get the car washed; through a hilly area down by the river where we saw one of Dad's favorite cars he owned - a '67 Pontiac Grand Prix convertible; then back through one of the most blighted areas in Cleveland's east side, up 93rd street. Yesterday, we took another aimless wander over to the West side of Cleveland on the shores of Lake Erie, through areas called Rocky River and Lakewood. I chose that area to wander in because I like architecture -- and this place seriously looked like a bunch of architects did some quality drugs and then started building. So many styles -- from New England Farmhouse to Spanish California -- we both really enjoyed it.

We stopped off for lunch at a place called Bearsden's, a staple since 1948. I had a peanut butter burger...only because it was on the menu, begging to be tried. It was...interesting, to say the least. And after a couple of days of driving around away from hospitals and the same surroundings we've known for the month of August -- it tasted like normal.