Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Cruiser, Meet Chicago

Open the sunroof and take in the charm of Elmhurst, IL. No agenda (Merry Mary would have loved that!) just a day to enjoy and explore.

The day began with a breakfast, not with Fred, but with longtime friend, Jeff Simonds. The local pancake house provided a great environment for catching up and telling grandparent stories. Road trips are about seeing and being. Spending time with old friends ranks high in the "being" category.

Jeff recommended a route around downtown Chicago, avoiding the traffic and the "questionable" neighborhoods. NAH --- this trip is about doing every mile of 41 - seeing the goods, bads, and even the uglies. So, I proceeded north to the jump off point from Sunday night. North Avenue to Cicero Avenue ---a few "Yo, Texas" shouts and I was deep into the urban experience.

41 heads down the North shore, making its way to the City....a city I absolutely love (and miss so very much). The first sign marking 41 as Lakeshore Drive made me smile. If I had been grandson, Andrew, I would have stood up on the seat and waved through sunroof. "Hello, Chicago! I'm back." But I sedately rolled along, grinning broadly.

As I parked and walked up the steps to the Art Institute, I had a conversation with Dad. "Hey, Dad, I am in Chicago at the Art Institute. Isn't this just the best?" "Snooks, you are having some great experiences. I remember so many good times in Chicago. Make it count and put lots of deposits in your memory bank."

The two hours inside flew by. A few minutes of photo ops and I was back in the Cruiser...on a wing and prayer. 41 weaves its way along the shore of Lake Michigan, through south Chicago, and into the corner of Indiana. How can there be such disparity between the north and south sides? I sat in a carpool line by Adam Clayton Powell high school thinking about the imaginary Maginot line.

I could feel my stress level rise as I twisted and turned, following the 41 signs. I don't know who laid out the route through south Chicago, but he (it had to be a he) ensured I would see each and every neighborhood. I found it interesting to move from one ethnic culture to another within a very small area. West Side Story came to mind.

The congested city streets moved to my rear view mirror and I found myself in rural Indiana. The song, "Back Home in Indiana" rumbled through my brain. As one of the many addresses I have had, Indiana has a special place....it is the birthplace of firstborn, Heather. "Back home ---YAY!"

Next post will be about Jerry, collector of tractors......can you believe it? Charlie has a soul brother.

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