Bad Axe has a cool old movie theater, a converted Knights Of Columbus Hall, a music store that was once a bowling alley, and some fascinating antique Telco plant. Next I went back South to Ubly, which has made it to my list of my favorite places, because it's so freaking rural, because it has a drag strip, and because the wind turbines that I now believe to number in the hundreds are all over the place. I drove East from Ubly towards Lake Huron and I kept seeing them and seeing them for miles and miles. This is a case where Mankind has actually improved the look of a place. I just couldn't stop looking at them, with their slow, neverending turning, reigning over the land like the Gods of the trees. I have noticed that when the sun is out the light is extremely bright, white light, definitely brighter than I know of the sun in Connecticut. I wonder if this is because the penninsula is surrounded by giant bodies of water, and maybe the reflection off the water and the snow on the ground magnifies the brightness. It must be gorgeous in the Summer. I only know the upper Thumb of Michigan in the last stages of a tenacious Winter, but the wind turbines are mesmerizing to see, always turning, a great army of goodness, common sense, and beauty...
On Sunday I was on a mission to see the Petroglyphs. My GPS guidance system showed a route to my job in Ubly, but if I stopped and reprogrammed it here and there, I could go right by the Petroglyphs. I made it there, and it was closed, so I moved on. It was a clear bright white and cold day driving through the wide open flat farmland. Open skies, old collapsed barns and houses sporadically placed along the long straight lines of the roads were all I could see for miles, then the wind turbines started to become visible in the distance. I had gotten very enchanted with the solitude out there alone in the middle of nowhere, or along the shoreline of the huge Lake. I had completely stopped watching TV in my hotel room. Silence and stillness permeated my being, even if I had the radio on in the van eighty-five miles out Van Dyke. Moving along toward the job I was there to do, I had the Detroit NPR station on the radio, and just as it fuzzed out with interference from another station, I got a chill through the van around my legs, making me think the heater had died. The song that I tuned in that was reaching from the adjacent frequency was "Summer Breeze", by Seals and Crofts. At first I thought this was some real Cozmick Dada, but it may well have been some foreshadowing.
Two weeks later, back in Pediddleville:
Tonight I finally sat down to finish this thing, this account of where I have been. I've been drinking three Michigan-made IPAs and trying to settle down and into the old Pediddleville mentality, out of necessity...
"Said the straight man to the late man, 'Where have you been?' 'I've been here and I've been there and I've been in between.' I talk to the Wind. My words are all carried away. I talk to the Wind. The Wind does not hear. The Wind cannot hear."*
My Life has been a rapidly changing Flux since returning from the Thumb. I had almost felt like I could go Native over there. It has been a tough re-acclimation. Nothing bad specifically; it's just not quiet here. It's just not wide open. I did want to get home because I missed my family and friends, and two or three projects I was working on, but the motivation eludes me. That's Pediddleville.
A recounting of the return trip home needs to be the bookend here. The last week of work in Michigan again was mostly in the busy suburbs of Detroit, places like Sterling Heights, Macomb, Shelby Township, and a few trips late in the days as far out as Thirty Mile Road and Port Huron. We were set to head homeward on the last Saturday, but were required to work half a day before taking off for a hotel just East of Cleveland. Right off the bat we all dispatched on jobs back in Connecticut! It took two and a half hours to straighten that out, and of course in keeping with the trend, the job I got was in Fort Gratiot, an hour away up North near Lake Huron. It was truly time to get out of Dodge, and when I finally gave up on fixing the trouble I was working on, I turned away in disgust, broke through the crusty roadside snow, and fell flat on my belly in a ditch. Now I had about a six hour drive ahead of me. With pants splattered with clay, I swung by Huron one last time for a few more photos of the now almost clear lake--small icebergs had been seen the day before floating downstream from the lake through the St. Clair River--found a diner for a quick lunch, and started driving South. The Winter, it seems, did not want to release us. After I rounded the bend at Toledo, I was now driving in a snowstorm. It was extremely slippery, greasy driving. I caught up with a small group of my fellow travellers and we all cautiously drove for hours it it. Cars were spinning out off the highway all over the place. The wind was whipping across the road, at times, and I had to keep both hands on the wheel at all times to not lose control. This was not good for me, since I had developed a muscle spasm in my left shoulder. It was agony not being able to drop the arm to rest it, not being able to stop for fear of getting stuck, and holding in a bladder full of piss. When we got to the hotel there was talk of going to a nearby restaurant. I thought about it, but I needed a shower to wash away the nervous stink of the day's ordeal. I chugged two IPAs in the shower, got dressed and walked outside to see if anybody was around. I didn't see the restaurant they were talking about, plus I was exhausted. With sleet pelting my eyeballs I walked over to the gas station, bought two twenty four ounce Yeunglings and went back to my room.
Somehow I woke up at 4AM. I made some coffee and wrote the first two paragraphs of this post. It didn't look bad outside. The snow had stopped. Most of the guys planned to shove off by six. I cleaned off the van and got on the road at about six-thirty. Just about the time I realized that my muscle spasm was coming back I also realized that it was snowing again--hard! It was the same as the day before, slippery, nerve wracking, and many accidents. After an hour and a half or so, the snow changed to heavy rain, but it was little comfort. The wind kept my shoulder in agony and the road ahead was long. Somewhere halfway through Pennsylvania I thought I'd better see if I needed gas and think about stopping for lunch. Sure enough, the gas gauge told me I should stop. The flashing "Service Engine Soon" light also told me I should stop. I got off the next exit, got gas, checked the oil, added three quarts, crossed my fingers, and drove off to find lunch. The van had been a trooper for the whole trip, and the idea of breaking down at this point was not welcome. I had a tense lunch at a diner and started off again, figuring I really had no choice but to try to get as far as I could. When it was idling, moving slowly, or accelerating, it was running really rough, but highway speeds were okay, which was a very lucky thing. Damn the torpedoes! I didn't have a problem other than the anxiety of not knowing if I'd make it until I finally hit The Metal Muncher (I-95 in Stamford, Connecticut) when I had to slow down for a traffic jam. Please don't let it die here! Please don't let it die here! I ended up making it all the way to Old Saybrook. My wife picked me up in the parking lot. I left a note in the office for X-Ray Man apologizing for killing his van, unloaded, and went home. The next two days were hard after this two-day white knuckle ride. I had not felt this much nervous exhaustion since the big storm clean-ups from a few years back.
After a week, the company sent twenty more technicians back out to Michigan, including my Brother-In-Law. I felt bad that I may have misled him and maybe others how great it would be for them, since the protections the company had had against us getting into dangerous areas of Detroit went straight out the window for these guys. They are right in The Shit.
What did I learn on this excursion?
1. Michigan has over one hundred and twenty craft breweries and brewpubs. I did a fair amount of sampling of these beers, mostly IPA's. Most enjoyable.
2. I like Solitude, and when I get out there by myself out in a wide open world, it beckons me.
3. Even though everything is flat and in straight lines, there are reasons people consent to live there.
4. People who oppose wind farms are assholes.
*Quote from King Crimson's "I Talk To The Wind" lyrics by Peter Sinfield.
