Tale of Travail - Auto Buying During the Pandemic

 

A few years ago, we had a motorhome. We had many enjoyable trips in it, but eventually, I was having too many job travel obligations, the wife was working full-time and back in college for her master's degree and our young daughter became involved in sports, her school's marching band, and numerous other endeavors so we had no time for the RV. It was so sad, just sitting there in its spot behind our house, never going anywhere. I put up some pictures and a description on an RV selling site and soon, a nice retired couple came down from Canada, paid cash, and took our beloved motorhome back up north with them. For the first time in a number of years, we were RV-less.

Fast forward seven years. I'm now retired; our daughter graduated from college and is working and living on her own; the wife is ready to retire in another year. And the wife has missed having an RV. Terribly missed. For the last several years, like a dog gnawing a bone - "We need to get another RV," "I really want another RV," "When are we going to get another RV?" I wasn't sure I wanted the hassle and expense of an RV. I've always enjoyed the simplicity of staying in hotels, and there is always the risk that warm recollections will be tarnished by the cold reality of the present but in order to get a little peace and quiet in my waning years, I finally gave in and agreed. A new RV was to be headed our way.

We did compromise some - instead of a motorhome, we would get a new truck and an RV trailer. That way there would only be one motorized vehicle to perform maintenance on and insure. So, I began heavy-duty research on new pickup trucks. I finally settled on one of the new Ford models. My grandparents and parents were Ford people so I grew up being a "Ford people" too. One of my favorite vehicles was a Ford truck that I still regret selling so a new Ford it was destined to be.

By then, the Pandemic was in full force. Big time supply chain issues. Very few auto's available anywhere. Three months of daily checking every Ford dealer's inventory within 200 miles of us resulted in no new trucks which met my criteria. Finally, one fine Thursday, at a dealer 50 miles from us, a 2021 F-150 Larriat was delivered. Powered by the new hybrid Power-Boost engine, 4-wheel drive, tow package, 360-degree camera, 7.2 kilowatt Pro-Power onboard generator and loaded with all the latest safety systems. I immediately called the dealer. Yes, they still had it. It had been delivered the day before and already 2 people had expressed interest in it and were trying to line up finances to purchase it. It was high noon when I talked to him and he said, "First one here with a decent down-payment get's it."

I called the wife at her work. "You've got to get off and come home right now so we can go buy a pickup! Hurry!" We arrived at the dealer at 4:00pm sharp. There she sat, still there, thank goodness - bright shiny red and looking beautiful. Parked right up front by the street, no wonder there were people already interested; you couldn't miss her. We were walking around the truck inspecting it when a salesman came up with a big smile on his face. "Can I help you," he asked. "I've been talking to Chris about this truck. Are you Chris?" The smile abruptly fell from his face at the vanishing of a possible sale. "No, I'll get him for you," as he walked away. 

Soon enough, Chris came walking up, the previous guy's big smile on his face, holding the keys. "I figured you would want to test drive her." I got in, started her up, and saw there was 26 miles on the odometer already. Chris explained two people had already test driven her. "We just got her in yesterday afternoon and people were asking to test drive her before we even got the plastic off the seats!" The wife and I took turns driving her around and brought her back with 48 miles on the odometer. I was looking at the window sticker when I asked what he would sell her for. $3,000 over the sticker! "What? That's way over the sticker price!" "Yes, sir" he replied, "that's the 'High Demand' price. Not many available and a lot of folks want trucks like this. But if you are 'highly qualified,' I can get you 0% interest for up to 6 years."

Fortunately, we fit into the highly qualified category, plus we had a decent downpayment amount available. After much wheeling and dealing and with a cash downpayment of more than half the price dangled in front of him, he came down $1,000. He was all smiles and then I brought out a coupon from Ford worth $1,000 off on a new truck purchase. Then I brought out a coupon from my insurance company for $500 off a new auto purchase. And then, just for fun, I made him throw in a Ford insulated mug for me and a pink Ford trucker's hat for the wife. We shook hands.

While waiting for the truck to go through final prep and filled up with gas, we ate their snacks and drank their cokes. With what I had just agreed to pay, it was the least they could do. I asked about the other people who supposedly were trying to line up finances, "Why didn't they take the 0% offer?" "They weren't highly qualified." 

"These are crazy times" Chris said. "We're a pretty small dealer, but we used to get in a couple of dozen new autos every week. Some of them would sit on our lot for several months. Now we're lucky if they drop off 3 or 4 a week and it doesn't really matter what they are, somebody buys them within a few days."

I wasn't happy about having to pay $500 over sticker price, but I had to consider I was lucky to find a truck that met all my requirements and more and I knew other folks were paying more than that over sticker price. And financing it at 0% interest, well, I'll take that deal all day long!

It's been a few weeks since we brought "Big Red" home and so far, all is great. No initial problems at all. She rides more like a car than a truck and we're pleased as punch with getting 24 miles per gallon. Heck, we're still learning all the things she's equipped with; still some buttons we haven't pushed and don't know what they do. And every month when I make the payment, I think about 0% interest and it's not so bad! 

All I have to do now is find an RV trailer that meets my wife's criteria. Maybe then my waning years will be filled with peace and quiet!

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Back Home

 Click HERE to go to Day 1 entry.

We had originally set out from Niagara Falls intending to stop in Rossford, Ohio to check out the shoes of Robert Wadlow, the world’s tallest man. The shoes are on display in the Rossford library, but when I looked it up online the night before, I found the library is closed due to Covid-19. Crossing Rossford off our list, we drove on toward our next destination – Galena, Ohio. Galena has been voted the "World’s Best Downtown Shopping" and was featured on one of my favorite TV shows, “Small Town, Big Deal.”

I took over the driving duties, set my portable GPS for Galena, and off we went. Unfortunately, the shortest distance between where we were and Galena is right through Chicago and "Shortest Distance" was what my GPS was set for. I hate Chicago traffic. No matter what time of the day you are on any of the freeways, it's bumper-to-bumper backed up traffic. I had documented a route that was a little longer but it went around Chicago. Unfortunately, Chip wasn’t aware of this alternate route. We were talking and I, not really thinking about it, just followed the GPS directions. The next thing you know, we’re stuck in Chicago traffic. Crap! The street signs list the highways by name, but the map lists them by number so there we were, in stop-and-go traffic gridlock and we couldn’t figure out a shortcut or the best way to get out of there. So trust the GPS to get us where we wanted to go. After a while, we saw why the freeway was so backed up. On the opposite side of the freeway from us, an 18-wheeler had literally destroyed a passenger car. Firemen were standing around and there were coverings over the smashed windows of the car. Somebody woke up that morning never knowing they wouldn’t make it back home.

After miles and miles of heavy traffic, Chip, looking at the spiral-bound atlas we had brought along, asked why we were going west when we should be going south. I told him we were going west to get to Galena and then we would head south from there. “But Galena is way down south from where we’re at now.” “I don’t think so,” I said. “The GPS is saying we still need to be going west.” “But I’m looking at Galena on the map here and it’s way south, not west. Your GPS is wrong.” Chip put the destination in the car's GPS and sure enough, it indicated to go south. Long story short, after a lot of back-and-forth, with Chip and the car's GPS insisting we needed to be going south, I finally said OK, we’ll turn at the next highway going south. I don't know what's wrong with my portable Garmen GPS. I've had it for over 10 years, I updated just before we left, and it's never been wrong before.” Being a good navigator, Chip found the next highway going south and said, “Turn left here.” I drove for a couple more hours, but we weren’t going through any towns that I remembered when laying out the route beforehand. Several times I said, "Chip, I don't remember any of these towns," but Chip kept assuring me we were going right.

We finally stopped for gas, and he took over driving. Before pulling out of the station though, I looked at the map, but couldn’t find Galena anywhere near our current southern route. Pointing, he said, “it’s right down there.” “Sorry, Chip, but I still don’t see it.” He looked closely at the map and pointed at a little bitty town. I looked closely. “Uh, Chip, that’s not Galena. It’s some town named Galatia. You've been looking at Galatia on the map and you put Galatia in the car's GPS, not Galena!" I looked again and found Galena way back up north where we had been several hours ago. We had been within just a few miles of Galena when we turned south!

In addition to missing shopping in the "World’s Best Downtown Shopping," we had missed several other destinations I had planned for us – the "Field of Dreams" baseball field, the world’s largest truck stop, and a town, Casey, IL., which has the world’s largest golf tee, the world’s largest rocking chair, the largest mailbox, and the largest pitchfork. I consider Chip to be my brother. We’ve been friends for 50 years now and nothing is going to change that. We decided to keep driving south toward home rather than backtrack for 3 hours, but there wasn’t much talking in that car for a while. You better believe I'll be ribbing him over this one for a good long time! I’m sure we’ll laugh about it later. How much later is unknown.

We stopped in St. Louis for dessert at the famous Ted Drew’s Frozen Custard stand on Route 66. The weather was hot and the ice cream was cold and very tasty. Well worth the stop.

We were 345 miles from home and it was just 3:00 in the afternoon so we decided to keep driving for a while. The later it got, the closer we were to home and the more sleeping in my own bed sounded real good. Chip started getting sleepy and tired about 9:00 and by then we were less than 200 miles from home. We stopped for gas and some food and I took over driving. We finally made it to my house a little after midnight. Tired and sleepy, we pulled into the driveway, left everything in the car, and went inside to crash. Unloading the car could wait for the next day.

Except for the last couple of days, it was a great trip and we had a lot of fun. We returned safe and sound, only a little worse for wear. Bucket list items got checked off, we saw some cool things, and we did some cool things. We had several bad food experiences, but we also had some excellent meals. We reminisced, we told stories, we had experiences for future reminiscing, we solved some of the world's problems, and we laughed a lot. Best of all, these two best friends got to spend some quality time together and you just can’t put a price on that. I'm already looking forward to our next trip!

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 8

 Click HERE to go to Day 1 entry.

Our room at Lake 'N Pines Motel

After checking out of the wonderful Lake 'N Pines motel, we went back into Cooperstown for breakfast. Either Cooperstown doesn’t have breakfast eateries or we just didn’t happen to find any that was open so we got back on Hwy 80 and headed toward our next destination 250 miles away – Niagara Falls. Hwy 80 (known as Cooperstown Road in this part of the country) is a 2-lane, black-top rural road with beautiful open fields and groves of old-growth trees with little towns every now and then. Going through one of these little communities (it’s called a community because calling it a town would be ridiculous), I spotted a little Mom & Pop store with a sign that said, “Breakfast.” A wooden building with peeling white paint, it looked like it had been there for many years, but there was something homey about it. Chip didn’t see the sign as he drove by, but I got him to turn the car around and return to it. I figured at the least we could get some road goodies to snack on (plus it’s nice to help support little privately owned businesses).

As soon as we walked in, conversations ceased and every head in the place turned to check us out. There were only a couple of small tables along the wall and the tables were occupied mostly by old farmers and ranchers wearing overalls and Massey Ferguson or John Deere gimme caps. These are the old-timers who come to town every morning to have their coffee at this little store and grumble about the weather, wives, and the state of the union. One asked in a polite but warry way where we are from. After we told them we were a couple of old U.S. Navy buddies who temporarily left our wives and kids behind to take a road trip to see the Baseball Hall of Fame and we were just passing through, they all seemed to relax, smiled, and after a few welcomes, went back to their grumbling with each other. I guess we passed their test. Everyone was very nice after that and we actually had a pretty decent hot meal cooked up by an older lady in the open kitchen. It was one of those places where people know each other by a nickname, where everyone got up, refilled their own coffee, got milk from the cooler, and chips and candy from the shelves, and then told the cashier what they had and paid up or put it on their tab. It was a nice little interlude - an enjoyable slice of small-town USA. Back on the road toward Niagara Falls, our luck changed. To say things didn’t go as planned would be to engage in careless understatement.

Just a few miles down the road, it started to rain. I’m not talking a little summer shower. I’m not talking about a mist. I’m talking full-on rain. A few minutes later, the sky really opened up and it started a heavy rain. Impressively heavy. As in monsoon rain. And it continued to rain. Every now and then, it would slow to a heavy downpour, but then back to the monsoon. And it continued like that for the next 250 miles! Instead of the expected 4 hours of driving, it took 6. My back started really acting up and every time Chip hit a little pothole, or the road got a little bit rough, a stabbing, red hot pain shot up my lower back. I ate Excedrin Extra Strength like M&Ms to keep the pain tolerable. In short, it was miserable.

When we entered Niagara Falls, it was still raining. We were hungry and tired. Open parking spaces were non-existent unless we were willing to pay $20 or more to park for 30 minutes so we could eat. We finally came across a hotel a few blocks away from Niagara Falls Park with a restaurant that advertised Chinese Buffett. We got lucky and found an open, metered parking spot just down from the hotel, so we grabbed it, dropped a few coins in the meter, and squished our way into the hotel.

As soon as we entered the restaurant, we knew something was not right – there was not a single customer in the place. That's not good. Thinking maybe it was because it’s the middle of the afternoon, we went in. The food on the buffet looked like it had been cooked yesterday morning and left in the warming pans since then. Every item had a film over it and everything just looked old and unappetizing. We started to walk out, but a waitress came over and told us they also had pizza. With her assurance that the ingredients were fresh, we ordered one each. A little surprisingly, they weren’t bad, so we sat in a booth eating our pizzas and watched it rain.

We then drove to Niagara Falls Park and looked around, but the paved walkways in the park were pretty much underwater. Plus, it was cold. Here it was May and the temperature was in the lower 40’s with rain and a strong, cold, persistent wind. We had on t-shirts and single-layer windbreakers. We saw a couple of hardy souls walking down the sidewalks. They had umbrellas and raincoats over their heavier coats and were walking in ankle-deep water. We were not prepared for the weather and with my hurt back limiting my mobility, I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk very far. In this case, “Skooter” (my mobility scooter) couldn’t be used. It runs on battery power and not only does water and electricity not mix but running it in water would cancel the warranty and I had only had it for about 6 weeks. That thing is too expensive to take a chance like that so Skooter stayed folded up in the back of the SUV. I had intended for us to take the Maid of the Mist boat excursion, but it was closed due to the storms and high water. I had also thought about us taking a helicopter tour of the falls, but it too was shut down. We checked the weather and the rain was forecast to last solid for the next 3 days. We reluctantly decided to put off seeing Niagara Falls until some other day. Big disappointment. Really big disappointment.

We entered our next destination, Rossford, Ohio into my portable GPS and set out for the Rossford Library where we could see the size 37AA shoes of Robert Wadlow. Standing 8’11” tall, he was the tallest man in the world. Turning onto the bridge the GPS told us to take, we were surprised to find halfway across that we were going into Canada! There are signs telling you to not turn around and walls on the side of the road to prevent it. So here we are, going into Canada with no passports (we both have one, but didn’t have them with us), a big bunch of packages in the SUV backend, and an illegal weapon (illegal in Canada anyway) in my possession. I knew it didn't matter in Canada that I have a carry permit and we just knew we were going to jail and there was nothing we could do about it.

The Canadian border guard was actually pretty nice – where are you headed (“back home to the U.S. hopefully”), why did you come to Canada (“we didn’t intend to”). You followed your GPS, didn’t you? (“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what happened.”) Is it just the two of you? (“Yes, just us 2, sir.) Where’s home? (Texas and Oklahoma, sir.”) Do you have any drugs in your vehicle? “(No sir, no sir. We don’t do drugs.) Are you carrying any firearms? Oh crap, what do I say?! I replied as calmly as I could - “No, sir” while thinking, please don’t check my bag, please don’t check my bag. "Oh, that gun? Gee, sir, I’m really sorry. I forgot that was in there. Silly me." I felt bad about the little white lie, but I would have felt worse being thrown into jail or even just having my gun confiscated. Fortunately, he just smiled at us, asked for our driver's license, and said, “This happens all the time. Pull over there by those doors and I’ll bring your licenses back in a minute with some paperwork you’ll need to fill out to get back in the states.” Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Several minutes later, I guess after he verified we were not terrorists or wanted criminals, he gave us our stuff back and said to make a U-turn around the building, drive safe, and have a nice day. He seemed rather amused about the whole thing. We were not.

Getting back into the states was, what with the open southern border, inexplicably tougher. We explained what had happened and then the questions came. Where are you going? (“Back home.”) Are you U.S. citizens? (“Yes.”) Were you born in the U.S.? ("Yes.") Do you have passports? (“Yes, but not with us.”) Why do you not have your passports? (“Because we didn’t plan on going into another country.”) Why were you in Canada? (“It was a mistake. We didn’t mean to be.”) How long were you in Canada? (“About 10 minutes.”) Why do you want to come into the U.S. (“Because we live in the U.S and want to go home.”) Are you bringing anything back from Canada with you? (“No, we accidentally went into Canada on that side of the road and basically immediately came back on this side of the road.”) Are you bringing any plants into the country? ("No, we were just over there and now we're here and we didn't go anywhere else to buy anything.") Turn off your car, give me your license and wait here. 15 long minutes later, he came back, gave us our stuff, and told us to drive back across the bridge. No smile, no amusement at our predicament, no welcome home, just suspicion, and gruffness.

Driving across the Niagra River in
the rain

Driving back across the bridge, and low and behold, we saw the falls! I didn’t get my camera out in time to take a picture, but we both actually got to see Niagara Falls. From our vantage point, it wasn’t as impressive as I’ve been led to believe, but I’m sure it’s much different up close and not partially obscured by heavy rain. We were happy to be back in the good old U.S. of A. and we saw Niagara Falls after all!

For some reason, my back didn’t hurt as much if I was driving, so I took over those duties and Chip became the navigator. We headed on down the road, being very careful to stay away from the Canadian border! Our next destination was 300 miles away, back toward the middle of the country. From there, we could head south, catch a couple of interesting things along the way and be on our way back home. There’s an old saying, “Man plans and God laughs.” Too bad for us, God wasn’t finished laughing.

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 7

Click HERE to go to Day 1 entry.

The next stop on our northern road trip was the old Max Yasgur farm in Bethel, New York. Everyone born in the early 1950s knows what happened there August 15 thru 18, 1969 – Woodstock! This place has been on my bucket list for 52 years and I’m finally getting there!

In the summer of 1969, I had just graduated high school, had cobwebs in my empty wallet and didn’t really know what I wanted to do in life. A friend had a motorcycle and some family in New York. He kept after me to sell my old beat-up Chevy, buy a motorcycle and ride with him up to New York. We could stay with his family for a while and attend something being billed as “An Aquarian Exposition,” a 3-day music festival. I shopped around and found a motorcycle I fell in love with, a new, shiny 1969 Triumph Bonneville. I talked to the dealer several times. He came down until the price was right. And then, and then... I said no. I would have had to leave my girlfriend behind, I wasn’t all that confident in my motorcycle riding skills, once I bought the bike, I would have spent all of the cash from selling my car, and then what would I do for money? Also, at that time, I wasn’t really sure what an “Aquarian Exposition” was and that was a long way to go on a motorcycle for some little outdoor music festival. In life, you never know when one little decision might change your whole life. Looking back, that “no” decision was one of mine.

There is a little issue with staying in Bethel. It’s a small, rural town of 4,200 people with not many places to stay, at least none that wasn't a Bed & Breakfast, or rated just 1 star with a bunch of negative reviews or a middle-of-the-pack hotel with OK reviews but costing $250 - $300 per night. Looking outside of Bethel, we finally found a Best Western in the little town of Monticello, 12 miles away, with middling reviews, but only $125 so, due to the scarcity of hotels and flying in the face of our often less-than-wonderful experiences with Best Western hotels, we made a reservation while we were still several hours away. When we arrived, we noted the outside looked rather old and not all that well maintained, but we're here now. Chip let me out at the front door to check in while he looked for a parking spot.

When I walked in, the front desk person, a man of Indian heritage, was on the phone and from the tone of his voice, not happy about something. There were eight Hispanic boys, all teenagers or early 20’s, sitting and standing around and each had all their worldly goods in one little plastic grocery sack. I stood at the counter while the hotel guy continued on the phone for 10 minutes. I finally said, “Excuse me,” thinking maybe he would get somebody to come up and help, but he just glared at me and said “Go sit over there until I get to you,” indicating a footstool. I caught some of what he was saying on the phone – “But who is going to pay me for this?” and “When will I get paid?” It seems a government bus just drove up, dropped off these 8 young men at the door with a piece of paper instructing the hotel to give them rooms, and left. The hotel proprietor was not happy at all about it. Seven of them spoke no English at all, one spoke a little broken English. I sat there frustrated but kind of amused while watching a man from India with a heavy accent trying to talk with a guy who spoke Spanish and knew only a few words of English. It was a full 20 more minutes before the boys finally got keys to two rooms and left. I'm not sure why somebody, somewhere thought it a good idea to drop 8 non-English-speaking Hispanic youths unannounced in a little northern town of 6,000, but there it is.

When we got to our room, it appeared to be old and had an odd smell, but clean enough. The TV was OK, but the desk chair I tried to use was broken. It wobbled from side to side and if you leaned back a little, it would fall over. The beds, in my opinion, were terrible and the bed sheets were old and stiff. The carpet was worn and stained in spots. The toilet seat was made of cheap, wobbly plastic - I hate those things. The toilet paper was so thin you could read a newspaper through it. Well, OK. On a road trip without reservations made more than the same day of arrival, you have to expect something like this to happen every once in a while, so make do and hope things are better tomorrow night.

After a mostly sleepless night in a bed that had a deep dip in the middle, I woke up, but before getting out of bed, I felt something stuck to my back. I reached around, touched it and a used band-aid fell off stained side up - and it wasn't mine! It had been in between the "clean" sheets and I had slept on it! I jumped out of bed using full-on non-Christian words I haven't said since I got out of the Navy. I felt repulsed and gross so I grabbed my bottle of germ-killing antiseptic hand cleaner, drenched it all over my back, and got dressed. I declined to take a shower because I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Forget the pathetic attempt at breakfast they had, not even any coffee - just get me outta here!

Checking out, there was a nice lady on the desk who spoke English well enough for me to easily understand her. I handed her a $25 gift certificate given to me by Best Western trying to lure me into being a repeat customer. She didn’t know how to apply a Best Western gift certificate to a Best Western bill. For 10 minutes, I stood there while she kept trying different things. Finally, she called somebody, probably the guy from last night, but he didn’t know how to do it either, so I stood there for another 10 minutes while she talked on the phone and tried different ways. After 20 long minutes, I told her never mind, I’ll just pay the damn bill and if she ever figures out how to give me the $25 credit, please email me a new receipt. To her credit, I did receive an email late that afternoon confirming it had been applied. So together, I had waited for almost an hour to check in and check out. Do yourself a favor and stay away from the Best Western in Monticello, New York.

We had breakfast at a busy diner a few doors down from the hotel. The coffee was very good and the food wasn't bad. There was a loud, annoying man in the booth behind us who evidently thought everyone in the place was keenly interested in his cell phone conversation. It was clear his momma didn't teach him about inside voice. The hard looks and stares from all the other patrons didn't bother him. When he finished his phone call, he went to the back register to pay and started flirting with the cashier. She didn't respond in the affirmative to any of his shouted pickup lines. He finally left to go paint the barn he was supposed to complete that day. Everyone smiled and almost broke out in applause when he walked out that door. We finished the last of our meal in blissful peace.

The Woodstock Museum

Just a few miles down the road, we turned into the entrance of the Museum at Bethel Woods, better known as “The Woodstock Museum.” Located close to the meadow where about 400,000 people celebrated 3 days of music and peace in the rain and the mud, we found it to be one of the better and more interesting museums we’ve visited on our numerous road trips. Going through the museum, around every corner was something that brought back memories of that time – posters, songs, pictures of people and bands, clothing, psychedelic-painted VW buses and "Bugs," and even the original very large hand-made speakers that had been mounted on the scaffolds. There were short film clips and informational movies to watch and plenty of older docents standing around ready to answer your questions and engage you in conversations about where they were during that time, what life was like back then, and just normal, friendly conversations. It was great and we had a wonderful time.

We stopped at the gift shop and when I entered, was politely told I needed to wear a mask. I told the young lady, "Well, I guess I'll just have to walk on through since I didn't bring one with me." "No problem," she answered, "I'll get you one." She returned with a really nice, adjustable, colored mask with a peace sign and the Woodstock logo on it. I asked her how much and she said, "No charge. It's free." I do like cool free stuff! I purchased several more t-shirts for myself, my wife, and my daughter, plus a postcard and a fridge magnet. More stuff for the back of the SUV!

After leaving the museum, we ventured down to the Woodstock site itself. Other than a few signs, there’s not much to proclaim this to be a historic site. However, it is awe-inspiring to stand there looking down into that open field and letting your mind visualize so many people and everything that happened there. The Woodstock movie kept playing in my mind. I had finally made it to Woodstock. 52 years late, but happy to see it and get one more item checked off of my bucket list!

With Joe Cocker’s “With A Little Help From My Friends” playing in my mind, we put Woodstock behind us and headed north on NY 17B until we connected with NY 97 and then a bunch of twists and turns for a total of 115 miles until we made it to Cooperstown and the Pro Baseball Hall of Fame. Arriving just several hours before they closed, we decided to go on in to see what we could and come back the next day if needed.

A couple of years ago (just before Covid-19 locked everything down), Chip and I took another road trip and visited the Pro Football Hall of Fame so naturally, we had to add this to our itinerary. At the Football HoF, we spent 5 hours going through all the displays, watching the videos, viewing the many, many artifacts, and had a good time trying on some of the really big guy’s helmets, matching our hands against the cast hands of various players and gazing longingly at all the Super Bowl rings and trophies. I’m glad we visited the Baseball HoF, but I have to admit, I went there all excited, but a bit less excited when we left.

Me & Chip at the Baseball HoF

There were a lot of recordings of historical games played, numerous uniforms on display, old shoes, old gloves, and a lot of pictures of players. I really enjoyed their display featuring Babe Ruth, who was one of my childhood heroes. They had the bat he used when he set the record for 60 home runs in one season. They had several of his uniforms and gloves and good writeups about his life and death. I spent most of my time here. They also had a large, interesting section on Jackie Robinson, the first black Major League Player and Hall of Famer. After a while though, the displays all seemed to run together, same-same. There was a large display with a uniform from every team. Nothing was said about them, they were just hanging there. I thought it would have been much more interesting if they had told some little-known information about each one – like how and why the St. Louis team chose a Cardinal for its mascot. How about Chicago choosing “Cubs” for theirs? Something besides a bunch of jerseys just hanging there in display cases.

We only took 2 hours to go through the museum. Even the gift shop was a let-down. I bought a fridge magnet, but nothing else really caught my fancy and everything was awfully expensive. I had really wanted a baseball jersey with a Baseball Hall of Fame patch on it, but they didn't have anything like that. Most of the shirts were touting individual teams.

To be the site of the Baseball Hall of Fame, Cooperstown is a very small town, more like a village actually. We were shocked at how small it is. Just outside of town, Otsego Lake begins. It is the most eastern of the 11 lakes that resemble fingers laying a handprint across Central New York. They were created over two million years ago during the last ice age when the glaciers receded, carving deep lakes from stream valleys. Eight miles long with a depth up to 167 feet, Otsego Lake is in most places no more than several hundred yards wide. Right on the lake, about 7 miles outside Cooperstown is the charming motel Lake 'N Pines and that's where we laid our heads for the night.

View from our balcony at
Lake 'N Pines

From Cooperstown, we drove beside the lake on Hwy 80 until we saw the sign for the motel. It is an older, mom-&-pop establishment, the kind where each room’s parking space is right there about 3 feet from the door. However, it is very well maintained and super clean. We were certainly surprised when we walked into our room to find everything almost new, very comfortable queen beds, fridge, coffee station, fancy soap and shampoo in the bathroom, big, fluffy, soft towels, and a private balcony with large sliding doors and a beautiful view of the lake. The price was only $70 so getting such wonderful accommodations for that price was a very nice surprise. It wasn’t fancy, but Chip and I agreed, it was one of the best places we stayed in the whole trip. Having a fresh cup of good coffee while sitting on the patio early the next morning watching the birds, the lake and the day come awake was supremely relaxing. Such a wonderful way to start the day! Highly recommend Lake 'N Pines if you are ever in the area.

Later, we went back into town and found a place to eat, “Mel’s at 22.” As usual, we didn’t know anything about it, but there were a lot of people eating inside and it looked like there was a bar too, so we ventured in. A very nice girl asked us if we had reservations. “Um, no, we didn’t know we needed one.” Well, we’re full tonight, unless you would like to sit at the bar. There are 2 seats available at the end.” “Sure, we’ll take ‘em.” 

The bartender was very fast and flamboyant, flipping bottles around, pouring from bottles held a foot above the glass, and holding a conversation with the patrons the whole time. He soon took our order and got our drinks - tea for me (my turn to drive) and some kind of fancy alcohol drink for my buddy. It took an inordinate amount of time for our food to be served, but we enjoyed watching the bartender so the time passed pretty quick. 

The bar at Mel's

When we got our food, it became apparent why you needed reservations. Food covered the whole large platters and oh my, the taste was fantastic! I can’t remember what Chip had, some fancy dish no doubt, while I got the California Dreaming Burger - hand-packed 8-ounce Angus patty, bacon, brie, chipotle aioli, avocado, lettuce, tomato, and red onion served on a brioche roll. Oh my gosh, this thing ranks right up there in the top 3 burgers I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve eaten enough burgers to consider myself a burger connoisseur! Even the fries were perfect – hot, fat, and crispy. On this whole road trip, as far as I'm concerned, the best full-on meal I had was at Paula Deen’s in Nashville and this was by far the best burger meal. We waddled back to the car, drove to our motel room, and like contented, fat little puppy dogs, fell asleep early that night.

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Day 6

Click HERE to start reading at Day 1 entry.

On Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001, America came under attack when four commercial airliners were hijacked and used to strike targets on the ground. Nearly 3,000 innocent people lost their lives. Because of the actions of the 40 brave passengers and crew aboard one of the planes, Flight 93, the attack on the U.S. Capitol was prevented. The site where Flight 93 crashed is now a national memorial and was our next destination.

Tower of Voices

Pretty much in the middle of nowhere, outside of Stoystown, Pennsylvania, a rural town of only 428 residents, is an empty field now considered by most Americans as holy ground. The first thing you see as you near the site is the Tower of Voices, a 93-foot-tall (in recognition of Flight 93) musical instrument holding forty wind chimes, representing the forty passengers and crew members who perished. It is the only chime structure like this in the world. Surrounded by wildflowers, the structure was built on an oval concrete plaza on top of an earthen mound to create an area more prominent on the landscape. The shape and orientation of the tower are designed to optimize airflow through the tower walls to reach the interior chime chamber. The chime system is designed using music theory to create the range of frequencies needed to produce a distinct musical note associated with each chime. The intent is to create a set of forty tones (one “voice” for each of the passengers and crew members) that can represent the serenity and nobility of the site while also recalling the event that consecrated the site. It’s an interesting structure that sets the reflective and somber tone for what’s to come, but unfortunately for us, the wind must be blowing at least 5 MPH for the chimes to work and there wasn’t even a hint of a breeze while we were there. Later, I spoke to one of the Park Rangers and she said the sounds were haunting and mesmerizing. Go to Youtube and search on "flight 93 tower of voices" to listen to a recording of the chimes.

After leaving the Tower of Voices, we proceeded to the visitor center, a large single-story building that houses a permanent exhibition focusing on Flight 93. This is where emotions surged as we viewed actual artifacts from the crash – pieces of the plane, personal items of the crew and passengers, a scorched and torn bible, a child’s shoe, a man’s damaged wallet, bent silverware, a burned and badly damaged seat belt, a damaged watch stopped at 10:03 – the time when the plane crashed into the ground. There is a station with headphones for you to listen to heart-wrenching voice message recordings of the last words sent by doomed passengers and crew members saying goodbye to family, spouses, and children. “Honey, I love you. I don’t think we’re going to make it out of this. Tell the children I love them!” “Hey sis, something bad is happening on the flight right now. If I don’t make it, my banking papers and stuff is in the safe and the combination is…” “Hey, Babe. This may be the last time I get to tell you how much I love you and the kids. Please don’t forget that.” Most of the people standing there listening to those messages had tears in their eyes. I did too.

Going through the rest of the very well done exhibition brought more emotions to the surface – sadness, confusion (how could someone do that to innocent men, women, and children, no matter what you believe or how strong that belief is), impotent rage at the so-called “people” who did that, and yes, a strong need for revenge, a desire to rid the world of anyone who is capable of doing that to another human being.

The boulder in the field at the end of the path
is the spot where the plane hit the ground 

At the end of the exhibition hall, there are large glass windows that look out onto the actual site where the plane hit the ground. There is a large rock that marks the exact spot. I stood there in deep thought looking at that rock for a long time. So did my buddy Chip, not saying anything, each lost in our own thoughts. Later, as we walked outside of the building along the “Flight Path Walk,” (a paved walkway that followed the final flight path) we passed beside a white wall that was inscribed with the names of all 40 innocent souls.

It was an interesting, but sad day. Even now, as I sit here writing about it, I still get emotional. I’m sure I will for a long, long time. Pulling away from the site, we didn't say much for a long while. We didn't have to. Chip simply said, "Wow." I quietly replied "Yeah." Enough said.

Next on our road trip agenda was Intercourse. Of course, two guys in a car on a road trip had to amuse ourselves for a few miles with crude jokes about the town name. What can I say? It's what guys do when the wives are not around. Getting to the little unincorporated village of Intercourse, Pennsylvania from Stoystown was a genuinely nice drive of 175 miles through rolling, wooded hills, open green pastures, and small towns. Along the way, we passed a number of old abandoned homes and barns – all left to the winds of change and the whims of history, but every one of them has a story to tell. For most, the story will remain untold. When you don’t know the facts, you can only fill in the blanks with your imagination. How old is this old house, the one with the falling in front porch? Who built that old, weathered barn, the one with that door hanging on just by the top hinge? How many families called that old farmhouse “home,” the one surrounded by shade trees and now mostly covered with honeysuckle vines? Every time I see one, I think about that, and wonder, what happened to the people?

A few miles outside of town, we started seeing Amish in their horse-drawn buggies and distinctive clothing. As soon as we entered the town’s limits, the streets were filled with buggies, Amish children riding their strange self-propelled “skateboards” and lots of tourist’s cars. Somehow, perhaps enabled by the large streets wide enough for cars and buggies to drive side-by-side, it didn’t seem overly crowded. We were to be disappointed at our first stop, the American Military Edged Weaponry Museum. Their website said they were open. Guess it had not been updated because it was closed with signs on the doors indicating it was because of Covid-19. We were disappointed, but you gotta expect stuff like that to happen and just roll with it.

Inside the Kitchen Kettle store

Next up was just a couple of blocks away – the Kitchen Kettle Village with its 42 shops and restaurants. This is where we had a really nice time, shopping for souvenirs, walking around looking at the handmade quilts, pottery, art, fine leathers, and homemade foods. We ate homemade ice cream while sitting in the shade under a large oak tree watching an exceptionally talented duo playing instruments and singing. We came away with a lot of homemade food items to bring back home to share with our wives – jams, jellies, various mixes, and bags of jerky. Everyone was very friendly and interesting to talk with. One of the ladies in the Kitchen Kettle store (where maybe I got just a tiny bit carried away and bought 4 different jams and 4 different jellies plus a cornbread mix) told us nobody is positive how the town name of Intercourse came about, but the most common story is that the community grew up around the intersection of two main roads, what the Amish refer to as an "intercourse." It was a very relaxing, calm, and fun way to spend an afternoon, something we both needed after the emotional visit to the Flight 93 Memorial.

Trying to eat it all before
 it melts!

Reluctantly leaving Intercourse, we drove a short 20 miles to Lititz, another little town in Amish country. There, we found the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery. Founded in 1861, it is the oldest pretzel bakery in America. They had many different flavors of fresh-baked pretzels for sale as well as a bunch of tools for making your own pretzels, t-shirts, and other souvenir items. Neither of us are big pretzel eaters, so we weren’t overly thrilled with this stop, but it’s cool to say you’ve been to the oldest pretzel bakery in America. And being able to truthfully say, “been there, done that, got the t-shirt” is part of the reason for a road trip!

It was getting close to sundown, our usual “let’s find a place to stop for the night” alarm, but we were both feeling good so we decided to drive 3 hours to our next destination, – Bethel, New York, to be there early in the morning. Unfortunately, our prevailing good luck with finding a good hotel each night, even without reservations, was about to come crashing down. Big time.

Click HERE for Day 1.  Click HERE for Day 2&3. Click HERE for Day 4&5.

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Days 4 & 5

 Click HERE to read Day 1     Click HERE to read Day 2&3

After the Corvette Museum, it was a nice little 2-hour drive to Louisville, Kentucky, and the next stop on our itinerary - Momma's Mustard, Pickles & BBQ Restuarant. After our horrible experience with the barbeque at Tom’s in Memphis, we decided to try for some good “Q” at another highly-touted eatery. Fortunately, despite the weird name, this place came much closer to our expectations. It wasn’t great Texas barbeque, but it wasn’t bad. Clean, friendly service, reasonable prices, and cute girls as waitresses. OK, in today’s culture that may be considered sexist by some, but these 2 old guys raised in the old days of yore still appreciate nice female works of art and we will not apologize!

When in Louisville, of course, you must tour the Louisville Slugger Factory & Museum. Looking it up online, it was “strongly suggested” that you get your tickets before you arrive as they are often sold out. Our arrival time left only 2 tours remaining for that day and both were almost full so we checked into a really nice hotel, the Fairfield Inn & Suites Louisville East. This was one of the best hotels we stayed in the whole trip - plenty of parking, friendly staff, and clean facilities. The room was clean and very nice with very comfortable beds. Wi-Fi was fast and never dropped. In the morning there was plenty of hot water for a good shower. Quiet all night long. Can’t ask for much more than that! We bought our Louisville Slugger tickets for the next day, got some sandwiches, and brought them back to the room to eat while we watched more of the Women’s Softball Championship.

Day 5

Entrance to Louisville
Slugger Factory
 & Museum

Arriving at the Museum at the appointed time the next morning, we were amazed to find that instead of the group of 20 for the tour, we were the only 2 people! We had a great tour guide who was able to give us his undivided attention. It was a really interesting experience. We learned how the bats are made, the different kinds of wood preferred by different major-league players, and watching them actually being made was way cool. Everyone, including the workers, were very friendly. Our guide was knowledgeable and never seemed to get tired of our many questions. As a souvenir, we both got a “nub,” (the end part of a bat that is cut off before the final processing) from a bat destined to be used by a major league player. At the end of the tour, we were given another souvenir, a small Louisville Slugger bat. It was a very enjoyable experience and especially interesting to me as a former user of Louisville Slugger bats when I played youth and high school baseball. I thought the souvenirs in the gift shop were a bit expensive and I didn’t find a shirt I liked so I didn’t get anything besides the souvenirs from the tour and a refrigerator magnet for my collection. I highly recommend this stop.

Other than stopping for a fast-food lunch, gas, and road food, the rest of the day was spent driving, telling stories, remembering things we have experienced together, and generally, just enjoying each other’s company. 360 miles later, we checked into another nice hotel in Washington, Pennsylvania – The Hampton Inn & Suites, Pittsburg-Meadow Lands. After driving most of the day, we dropped off for a nice, restful sleep by 10:30. We had another interesting little side trip scheduled for the next morning.

Another nice breakfast at a nearby Waffle House and 35 miles on down the road brought us to the small, quiet little town of Perryopolis, Pennsylvania. Why in the world would we drive so far to visit such a small, rather unremarkable town? To see the “Buffalo Bill House” of course. No, not the Buffalo Bill of Old West fame. We’re talking Buffalo Bill from the movie “Silence of the Lambs.” He of the famous chilling line, “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” If you watched this movie for the first time late at night like I did, there wasn’t much sleep afterward as your eyes stayed wide open and you jumped at every little sound in the night. Here in little Perryopolis is the house used for the exterior shots as the house where Buffalo Bill had his victim pit and his little dog and his bottle of lotion. Except for the movie sign in the front yard and the "Private Property" signs, it looks like just a normal nice house in a small, quiet town. A fun thing to tell your friends about what you saw on your road trip! Maybe the best thing though is the relaxing drive getting to the house. You must drive down a well-maintained, pretty, 2-lane road with trees on either side closing in over the top, then down a side street through a tunnel dug through a mountain which is followed by a one-lane trestle bridge, and then across a set of railroad tracks. Worth the side trip if you have the time.

"Buffalo Bill's" house

Just 90 miles away was our next stop – Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. I mean, who hasn’t had the desire to see Punxsutawney Phil and visit the famous Gobbler’s Knob where every February 2nd, the venerable, and supposedly immortal, groundhog holds forth each year with his weather predictions. The "Inner Circle" members – recognizable from their top hats and tuxedos – communicate with Phil to receive his prognostication. This suspension of disbelief, a central requirement for the festival, extends to the assertion that the same groundhog has been making predictions since the nineteenth century. According to legend, there is only one Phil, all other groundhogs are impostors. It is claimed that this one groundhog has lived to make weather predictions since 1886, sustained by drinks of "groundhog punch" and "elixir of life" administered at the annual Groundhog Picnic in the fall.

Unknown to most, Phil does not live at Gobbler’s Knob. His actual home is in a nice, cozy den in the Punxsutawney Library. We had that information along with the address of the library, but we drove around for 20 confusing minutes or so because we couldn’t find a building that looked like a library or had a sign indicating it was a library. The address where it was supposed to be was a police station with a parking lot full of police cars. I really needed to relieve myself of the morning’s coffee so I told Chip (who was driving) to just pull into the police station thinking surely they had a bathroom I could quickly borrow. He didn't want to do that because "we'll get a ticket." Then I noticed a line of regular civilian parked cars along one small row so I told Chip just park in there with those cars. Reluctantly, Chip pulled in and parked. Great friend he is, “OK, but if we get a ticket, you’re paying it.” 

Punxsutawney Phil relaxing at home

It was then I finally saw a little sign that just said, “Library.” Maybe one end of the building was a police station and the other end was the library? Walking around to the other side of the building, the side with no parking lot, the side facing a quiet, little park with lots of grass and trees, the side that had no indication you could see from the road that it was a library, and there we found the library’s front door and just inside the front door was, thank goodness, a men’s restroom! A few minutes later, I walked into the aisles of books and a lady told me the library was closed due to Covid restrictions. I asked if this is where Phil lives. Yep, over in the corner and yes, you can go over and see him. Sure enough, looking into an enclosure with a wall of thick glass was the legendary Phil! Unfortunately, the glass was very dirty and scratched up so bad, you could barely see into Phil’s home. I noticed there was another window on the other side that faced outward. We walked outside to the window, but that window too was heavily scratched and dirty. I took several terrible pictures of Phil (due to the condition of the glass), who seemed quite relaxed and paid us no never-mind. I must admit, it was a tad underwhelming. In fact, it was very underwhelming.

Gobbler's Knob Park

Making it back to the car (no ticket!), we then drove about 2 miles outside of town to Gobbler’s Knob. Until I researched it, I thought Gobbler’s Knob was somewhere in Punxsutawney, like in a downtown park. Not so. It is about 2 miles southeast of town, set off all by itself. We arrived to find we were the only people there, so we took our time driving around looking at the well-maintained stage and park. It too was a bit underwhelming, but still, we enjoyed seeing in person the stage and all the Groundhog Day things we’ve seen on TV for years. 

The famous stage where Phil
delivers his prediction

We made our way back to town to eat at Joe’s Drive-In, the highly-rated old-fashioned diner famous for serving up the best hamburgers in Punxsutawney. The burgers were ok. Certainly not Whataburger or even In-N-Out quality, but I guess the Punxsutawney residents are pleased as punch with them.

Putting Punxsutawney in our rearview mirror, we headed about 80 miles south to Stoystown, Pennsylvania and the Flight 93 National Memorial. Neither of us anticipated the intense feelings we would soon feel.

Phil statue at Joe's Drive-In

Road Trip to Woodstock & Beyond - Days 2 & 3

Click HERE to read Day 1

Day 2 

The next morning, we had a rather frustrating experience in Jackson, Tennessee. Trying to follow the GPS to the bakeshop, the designated exit was closed due to construction. No big deal, we'll just go down an exit and come back. The next exit, closed due to construction. Hmmm. And the next exit, closed due to construction. Three exits in a row closed due to road construction! Whose bright idea was it to do that? We finally got to the next exit, went over a couple of blocks and headed back to the bakeshop's address. We made it to the street where it was located and found it too was closed for construction! Close to giving up, we decided to give it one more try so back the way we came and across the highway hoping we could get across at the right street by going under the highway. Nope, closed due to construction. That's it! Woodstock Bakery will just have to wait until some other time. 

We had to go a block away from the highway so we could get to an open highway entrance and along the way, guess what we found - the Woodstock Bakery! Turns out there is a south Innsdale Cove Road and a north Innsdale Cove Road and we had been trying to go to the wrong one! Not sure all the hassle was worth it, but we did buy several items each for later consumption and we had a nice conversation with the friendly, young girl behind the counter. We really felt old when we told her we were on our way to Woodstock and she didn't have a clue what we were talking about. Everything we purchased and ate was delicious!

If you ever find yourself in Jackson, Tennessee, and if the road construction has been completed, get a chocolate cupcake from the Woodstock Bakery - yummy! Next up - Cooter's Dukes of Hazzard Museum and a late lunch with Paula Deen in Nashville.

It's about 135 miles from Jackson to Nashville. And if you have to keep slowing down due to road construction, it takes a while to drive those 135 miles. I love going on road trips with my buddy because we have so much in common. Driving from one destination to the next, we reminisce about old girlfriends who did us wrong and recall good times back when we were young and old age and death was remote. He is sneaking up on 70 and I have embraced 70 so we talk about aches and pains, bad knees, and lower back pains and we can’t remember where we put anything. We tell each other wonderful stories and the next day we say, “Hey, did I tell you the story about the time ...?” and the reply will be, “No, I don’t think so,” and we’ll do it all over again.

Aisles and aisles of stuff to buy at Cooter's

You may remember the TV show Dukes of Hazard back in 1979 and the early 80's. In today's political climate, can you even imagine if that show aired now? Most of the regular cast, Denver Pyle (Uncle Jesse), Tom Wopat (Luke Duke), John Schneider (Bo Duke), and Catherine Bach (Daisy Duke) went on to fame and bigger roles. Not so Ben Jones (Cooter) who has made his living being associated with Dukes of Hazzard. Of course, we had to visit "Cooter's Place" his Dukes of Hazzard museum. It's in a small building jammed pack full of the show's artifacts and lots of things for sale like t-shirts, Daisy Duke shorts, bandanas, playing cards, General Lee and Daisy Jeep model cars, postcards, signs - most anything you can think of. Maybe most interesting of the whole thing was the actual General Lee (1969 Dodge Charger), Rosco's patrol car (1978 Plymouth Fury), and Daisy's Jeep (1980 Jeep CJ-7). It was a fun way to spend about 30 minutes and well worth the free entrance fee!

After Cooter's Place, we were a couple of hungry guys! We found our way to Paula Deen’s Family Kitchen. By the time we arrived, it was the early afternoon after the lunch rush hour should have been over, but it was still very busy and we had to wait for 30 minutes to get a table. After being seated and getting our food, we found it was well worth the wait! We got to choose 2 entrees and 4 side dishes for the table (served family style) for about $20 per person. It's a bit expensive for lunch but worth it! I chose Beef Pot Roast and if I remember correctly, Chip chose the Fried Catfish. We had Creamed Potatoes, Cole Slaw, Candied Yams and corn for the side dishes. Each and every item was great! And if you want more of an item, just ask because it is unlimited refills. You also get a dessert, but we ate so much we couldn't eat another bite, even for dessert. Fortunately, they are happy to put your chosen dessert in a to-go container for your enjoyment later. I took a peach cobbler and Chip chose the Ooey Gooey Butter Cake. They were both a wonderful treat in our hotel room later that night. Highly recommend Paula Deen’s!

With very satisfied full tummy's, we got back on the road again headed to Bowling Green, Kentucky, Unlike Cooter's museum, we were headed for a much different, very interesting museum.

From Nashville to Bowling Green, Kentucky is only 70 miles. We arrived there a little after 4:00, but after our full-on meal at Paula Deen’s and then driving just a little over an hour, we decided it would be a good time to take the rest of the day off to relax a bit. We rarely make hotel reservations beforehand because we want to be free to stop early or late and we usually don’t know exactly where we’ll be when we decide to stop for the night. On our road trips, we usually live by the words of Lao Tzu – “A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.”

We checked into a LaQuinta Inn and proceeded to relax, i.e. nap time! Our good luck with getting good hotels on the fly continued as our room was clean, cold, quiet, and had very comfortable beds. We woke up just in time to feast on Slotsky sandwiches and chips from the shop next door to the hotel and then settled in to eat our Paula Deen desserts and watch college Girls World Series softball games. It was a very good day.

Day 3

The next morning, after a surprisingly good breakfast at a Waffle House near the hotel, we drove to the reason we were in Bowling Green – The National Corvette Museum. Now this is a great museum! From the first Corvette to the latest and greatest. There’s a lot to see here with information on each car, the difference between the year’s models, and who owned that particular car if it was somebody of importance or fame. The place is huge – 55-acre campus and 115,000 square feet under roof with wide aisles and friendly, knowledgeable staff. Before arriving, we figured we would spend an hour or so here, but it was so interesting, we spent 4 and could have stayed longer.

You may remember when the National Corvette Museum made international news headlines on February 12, 2014, when a sinkhole collapsed in the Skydome of the Museum in the middle of the night. No one was in the building when it happened, but security cameras were rolling and caught the incident on camera. Millions of viewers later watched on YouTube as 8 very special, very expensive Corvettes fell into the 30-foot cave-in. The museum did an excellent job of covering this. The damaged cars are on display with placards describing each car’s damage and how much it would cost to repair (several were beyond repair). The sinkhole is safe now, but there is a plexiglass-covered hole in the floor where you can look down into it. Seeing those beautiful cars damaged like that was enough to almost bring tears to my eyes.

And then there’s the gift shop – one of the best I’ve ever visited at a destination site. Pretty much any Corvette-related item you could want is there. Most of the items were a bit expensive, but all were of top-notch quality instead of the usual Chinese-made cheap tourist keepsakes. I got gifts for family members as well as a t-shirt, jacket and a great lap blanket for me. The back of our vehicle, Chip’s SUV, is already starting to fill up with our goodies and we’ve still got lots of places to see and things to do! Next stop on the road ahead – Day 4 in Louisville, Kentucky.

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