A Service Station Encounter

Yesterday we stopped at a service station on Interstate 80 just west of Cleveland, Ohio for the necessary diesel fuel. At least it was not as expensive as other stops had been on this trip. Coming back from paying the fuel bill and with breakfast in hand, we got waved at by a trucker who made it clear that he wanted to talk with us. So we waited for him to walk up to us, and he wanted to know if we were hauling our Crossfire car on our trailer. We said yes when he told us that his wife wanted one and finally got one, maybe for her 50th birthday. She had been driving a restored MG convertible for the past 25 years. She had looked at a 2004 Crossfire but finally settled on a new one. He didn't like the way the convertible looked so this time she has a hard top as do we. She can haul a lot of stuff in the car and has three daughters. He said he spends too much time on the road, and when he retires wants a big motor home like ours too. I said that then he would be an old fart on the road like us. It took him about 20 minutes, talking almost non stop to tell us his bit of his history, and we thoroughly enjoyed the whole conversation. Now with breakfast somewhat colder, we continued on our way to Berkshire, NY.

When we got to Owego, we left the interstate and began our drive of about twenty miles to my brother's home in Berkshire. As we started to leave Owego, we had to pass under a railroad bridge that had a clearance of slightly more than 12 feet. Not wishing to see if the motor home could fit safely we prowled side streets until we finally found a surface crossing of the railroad tracks and then made our way back to the road to Berkshire. If you have been reading my latest attempt at fiction writing, you now know that the Berkshire part is real.