Day Three. Home Sweet Home.

London, Ontario - And, he's back. Good golly, we return to Michigan today, where they like them some churches, mighty fine. Halleluiah!

The day started off well, with a complete – and most importantly – included, hot breakfast, Super 8-style. Make-your-own waffles, cereal, doughnuts, some sort of chopped sausage grits/porridge concoction I didn’t touch. And coffee. The orange juice was skunky, so it got tossed. Not a bad start, particularly after the lack of real food yesterday. Up at 6:54, I am still completely knackered. My throat is scratchy. And not in the sexy way. The trip started to catch up with me last night, but I really didn’t want to ply myself from the covers this morning. Well, I should have crawled under them earlier. Sigh. Such a dummy. Having started at the crack of darkness on Tuesday didn’t help either. Really.

On the road at 7:34 – not too bad a turnaround time despite the fog in my brain. One sign that it’s going to be a good day, though: the warning at the entrance to the highway states that it is not to be used by “farm implements”. Brings back fond memories of one of my former history professors who would always sprinkle his lectures with the term because he knew it would make us all laugh. Absurd, really. Another good sign: it’s clear and 20 degrees. Starting at 2,078.7 kms. today.

7:44: Big Bone Lick State Park. No comment. It’s too early, dammit. And I’m dumb today. Just past this, and outside Cincinnati, though, a giant traffic snarl lights up like an LED board. Signs warn of 10-15 minute delays. I remind myself of the perils of cat naps during that stretch. Then stretch and yawn. Where’s that coffee again? Gone. Damn my inability to drink more slowly. Sigh (number two).
What’s Playing: The Organ, Grab that Gun

8:13: Cincinnati! Finally, free from the clutches of the hordes. Traffic jam, be gone.

8:34: 2,170.9 kms. It’s grey out, but at least it's not raining.
What’s Playing: Man on the Moon, OST

8:57: West Carrolton, OH for more gas. Looks like a ritzier neighborhood. Whoops, maybe not the best place to choose for gas. It just struck me that I’m so used to not going to generic gas stations that I have stuck with the majors to fill the rental car. Hmm. $2.479 a gallon for a total of $26.48. According to news reports last night, fuel is cheaper across the US than it has been in a year and it is anticipated that gas prices will be down to $2.00 a gallon by Thanksgiving. Depends if their President starts another war somewhere. Sorry, my little yellow ribbon must have peeled off. I can support the troops just fine, thanks – I just don’t support that government. There is a very BIG difference. But these people carry guns, so I’ll keep my trap shut. Big trap. Big guns. Closed.
What’s Playing: Lauryn Hill, The Miseducation of

9:34: 2,272.7 kms.
What’s Playing: Alanis Morissette, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie

10:34: 2,383.7 kms.
What’s Playing: The Tragically Hip, Day for Night

11:23: Michigan!

11:29: Monroe, Michigan, here we come. Alright, one more stop for the road trip. The last hurrah. The big finale (have I built up the anticipation yet?). Jerky!

Uh, Santa lives there, right? How exactly do I get into a career in Jerky? I’m sure Guelph offers a degree in it.

Anytime a man wearing an apron -- and surrounded by various cured meats -- approaches with shears, do not fret. Smile broadly. Samples! Teriyaki Beef. Smoked Beef (sorry, drooling on the keyboard). Some other kind I cannot remember, though if I search far enough back into my molars, I might find some stringy remnants. Mmm, remnants. Jerky = yum. Especially on road trips. Too bad this one is almost over.

Anyway, paper bags full of jerky and I’m a happy man. In the absence of other exciting photo opp’s today, we’re going to embark on the journey called “Jerky over Michigan”. Replete with reviews. In depth reviews. Some might even say, “meaty”. Others stick to “dry”. Those ones are usually being jerky.

Beer flavoured beef. Spicy. Okay, I get it – tough to go too far astray with this one: Give man meat. Give man beer. Man be happy. A club, too? Over the moon.

11:34: 2,484.9 kms. Last stop? For real this time? Michigan Welcome Centre in Monroe. There’s the coffee again. And empty the car of garbage acquired in six states and one province over three days. But really, I just wanted to add to my map collection. I just got back into the car and wow, does it smell strongly of dried meats. Mmm, dried meats…Sorry, I just lost more time, opening and closing the door. Wafts are so good. But such a tease. Need more meat. Did I mention there’s jerky? Jerky, we’re close, you know.

Try the garlic beef, you say? Why, mighty nice of you to ask. Barkley was feeling left out and wanted to try some, too (I don't even want to see the cat gut after that one). This was surprisingly bland until 5-6 hours later. Just ask anyone I talked to. Except the jerky, he’s gone (hey, it was a lonely car). That conversation went like this: “Am I shaped like a state you just left?” “Not yet,” I replied. Then it became Rhode Island, which was subsequently sucked into the dark, gurgling ocean.
What’s Playing: Travis, The Man Who

12:20: Detroit! (Sorry Paul, “The D”).

12:28: Canada!*
(*Caveat: Well, we’re at the midpoint of the Ambassador Bridge, so they haven’t technically let me into the country yet. But the Russian judge ruled in my favor on this one.)

12:34: 2,555.8 kms.

My favorite jerky of the day was the honey garlic pork. Ever so slight a zip. Tender. I don’t want to pig out because I’m bac-on track to get home. It was smooth. Like butter. Very chewy butter. At least it looks like a maple leaf for going across the border (that’s what they’d say at Ruby Falls, anyway).

12:36: SCS wins the bet (she had wagered that I had a 42 per cent chance of getting stopped at the border, I had wagered 74 per cent). I whizzed through without any difficulty this time. I think the ever-so serious agent even raised the corner of her lip the slightest bit when I replied to her query about items to declare: “…right at $100 worth of apparel, including a pair of shoes…and some jerky.” A micro-smile at best, but I know she wanted some. I was just glad that she didn’t ask where I had been; I’ve had a mental block about remembering “Huntsville” all week, for whatever the reason.

Welcome to Canada! Windsor! Eek. 24 degrees and sunny. Finally make it to the good ol’ 401 eleven minutes later.
What’s Playing: Split CD: Wolf Parade, Apologies to the Queen Mary and EPs

13:34: 2,652.7 kms.
What’s Playing: Split CD: Regina Spektor: Soviet Kitsch and Begin to Hope

14:20: London! Grr. Welcome back to the city’s horribly mistimed lights. All red. And I’m so close I can taste it. Or maybe that’s just the jerky.

14:34: 2,749.4 kms.

14:38: Gas for the last time. 89.7, which is still cheaper than I’ve seen it in quite a while around here, for a total of $34.77. Drivin’ isn’t cheap.

14:43: HOME!!! (Yes, that one deserves triple exclamation marks). Total trip kilometers: 2,751.7. 35 hours and 28 minutes of tooling around time. Two bags of Crispers. Two Granny Smith Apples. A bag of Licorice. Most of two boxes of granola bars. Two 2L bottles of pop and a litre of water. A bag of Skor bites. And jerky, sweet jerky. Where would I be without you? Um, here.
And yes thanks, I am as tired as I look. But it was worth it.