Return to Rochester

Tom had to work all day then drive a hundred miles or so to a hotel for a dance meet. Couldn't say I envied him. We had a late night snack and chat the night before anyway.

Tom told me about the IKEA showroom outside Philadelphia. It was a gem of a find. Simple, elegant furniture and household fittings for a low price. I see how they do it. Most of the goods are for self-assembly so they save on transportation. Also they don't hire an army of salesmen. Instead you look at their showroom, decide what you like, then pick it out from their warehouse shelves. I come away with a couple of side tables, lamp stand, clip lamps and window shades, without setting off alarm bells on my credit card account. I wish I knew about this place earlier. I think it might be worthwhile to make a special trip down if I need more furniture.

The northeast Penn Turnpike extension was crowded but not unbearably so. Mostly it was the two lane traffic that kept cars bunched together. By the time I exited at Scranton, most of the other traffic had evaporated. A half-hour later, I was in New York State.

I was supposed to meet Doug at 6 pm for dinner. He transferred from Rochester to Cornell a while back. Cornell seemed to suit him better. Ithaca is on the southern tip of Lake Cayuga, a glacial lake. As is normal with glacial lakes, the lake sides are steep. Ithaca is by the lake so all roads downtown have this steep descent. I remember sitting in a boat cruising on a glacial lake in South Island, New Zealand. The captain told us the water was about a thousand feet deep under us. The thought of that much water underneath gave me the shivers.

After dinner and pleasant banter, I drove back along the eastern shore of Lake Cayuga. Most of the time I had used the other bank. I found this side nicer because the road remained within sight of the lake bank and I could see the house lights on the other bank across the narrow lake. The smell of hay and manure reminded me I was in farm country.

I saw much scenery on the trip that pleased me, especially in the Appalachians, but nothing lifted me to ecstasy. The US had that (non-)effect on me. Much of what I saw was banal. Frieda's words came back to me often: It looks so unloved. In Europe or Asia, humans look like they belong in the landscape. Even though wild forests mostly don't exist any more in those continents, nothing is untouched by civilisation and none of the animal populations are original, humans and their surroundings have adapted to each other and made the earth feel homely. In the US, humans seem transient, just a blot on the face of the earth.

One has to travel far in the US to see a change in scenery or vegetation. And yet I did not get the sensation of having traversed large distances when I reached Florida. The urban landscape was similar. You can get the same sort of fast food in Florida as elsewhere. I can already imagine what California is like, even though I have never been there. Funny how large countries tend to uniformity while small ones tend towards diversity.

Americans are too eager to destroy historical artefacts in the name of progress. There is little sense of history in this country. What's left is mostly a collection of historical markers in the landscape that are impossible to read while driving past. No traditions, nobody stays long enough in one place to acquire traditions. Patriotism seems to be more a superficial sentiment or emotional outburst than a genuine feeling. The best the American pavilion at EPCOT could offer was a band of singers rendering This Land is Your Land in dulcet tones. Why not pictures or films of the landscape, which is truly magnificent in places, like other countries? No, Americans must have words, more words to stir people. Is it any wonder nobody really loves this land?


At midnight I was at the junction of West Henrietta and I-390. I was home.

Through North Carolina, Virginia, and Delaware to Pennsylvania

A buffet breakfast, I deserve it. Then back to the harness. I think I can make Philadelphia by night. This means no side trips. I would love to see Charleston or the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, but I suspect in this beautiful weather, they'd be crowded. That was another excuse to quit Florida before the Memorial weekend. A heat wave was predicted and I didn't feel like cooking in the heat, then fighting packed highways to get home with a sick car. At this moment, back home, I don't regret the decision to leave early.

The map shows a town called South of the Border, just south of the border between North and South Carolina in I-95. Before you get there, signs with Mexican themes keep pestering one to stop and eat or buy things. When I got there, it wasn't a real town but a collection of restaurants, shops, petrol stations, motels, etc. A made-for-commerce town.

North Carolina and Virginia flew past on I-95. Interstates are just fast roads from A to B, not much point looking for scenery. Just north of Richmond I turned east to take the bridge at Annapolis so that I could avoid Washington and Baltimore. The Annapolis crossing traverses the major arm of the Chesapeake. Ships have to go underneath the bridge to reach Baltimore.

They say Du Pont owns most of Delaware. A friend of mine vigorously denies this, but the company seemed to be everywhere. Well they might at least improve the signs on the roads. I get lost for a while on Delaware country roads, then get my bearings again. Just outside Wilmington I tried phoning Tom again. Answering machine again. Is he gone or working programmer hours? Nothing for it but to try calling at home.

Rang the doorbell. If he isn't home I will nap in the car for a couple of hours then drive back to Rochester. I don't feel like spending another night in a motel, only to face Memorial Friday holiday traffic. Tom comes to the door. He's been asleep and letting the answering machine mind the shop.

To Miami then back to South Carolina

Sultry night in the dorm. Air-conditioner was no help, being worn out and weak. To rinse the sweat off I took an early morning dip in the pool. Then I packed and checked out.

I think I can make it to South Carolina by nightfall. The weather channel had forecast a stormy day. I drove past the Miami skyline, through nondescript undeveloped country, then turned north onto the Florida Turnpike. That detour to Miami wasn't worth it. It was just a waste of a couple of hours. I thought Cape Canaveral might be worth a look but decided not to go. Reached Jacksonville by 5 pm, Georgia border by 6:30. I ended up in Waltersboro, SC by the time it is too dark and I'm too tired.

The problem with beach scenery in America is that usually the waterfront is privately owned. So you never get to see all those wonderful beaches up close unless you pay through the nose to stay in a posh hotel for hundreds of dollars a night. With mountain scenery, they can't block all it from view. The other problem is there are seldom any stopping spots near scenic views. The St. Johns crossing outside Jacksonville was pretty, but I couldn't very well stop to take a picture in rush hour traffic.

Fort Lauderdale

Today's destination is Fort Lauderdale. It isn't far to go so I don't have to hurry. The plan is to spend the night at the hostel there, then drive to Key West the next day and spend one night there.

Somewhere along the way I discovered my clutch was close to worn out. I can get it to slip if I step on the accelerator hard while the car is travelling slow. That explains what the mechanic said about the clutch being high when my brakes were being fixed. Sigh. One more worry.

Billboards are very much a feature of Florida roads. The most obnoxious ones are those that pester you every mile or so, starting 30 miles or so from the attraction. More irritating are the lovebugs, a rather unlovely insect that has a habit of getting plastered over the windscreen on impact. The AAA book advises travel in the early morning or late evening to avoid these bugs. Wish I could. By the time I reach Fort Lauderdale my bumper is smattered. My windscreen isn't because I keep wiping it with cleaning spray.

Florida is a big citrus fruit producer and uncountable roadside stands offer fruit and gifts. Since I don't fancy oranges, they weren't hard to resist.

The Sol-Y-Mar hostel entry looks promising: near the beach, swimming pool, air-conditioned rooms. There were a couple of pool loungers when I arrived. The office was closed until 5 pm. A resident assured me there was no shortage of room. So I pulled up a sun chair and lazed away the afternoon in the cool breeze. So far I had only read three chapters of The American. I polished off a couple more and started reading On The Road as well. Kerouac's story of non-stop Beats wandering the US encourages rapid reading. I thought of taking a walk to the beach to see what it is like, but I was reluctant to venture into the heat. Besides, it was crowded from what I could see, driving past.

I was beginning to get bored. I have nothing against beach cities, you understand, but a constant climate of warm, sultry weather attracts people who have no more ambition than to sun all day and drink all night. Some of the residents had already been in the hostel for 4 months. I have nothing against this kind of relaxation either, but there is little else in the way of culture in such cities. So after a while, I get bored of such places.

I'm beginning to wonder if I should bother with Key West. The main reason I wanted to go there was because it is the southeast corner of the US. I've been to the northeast corner, in Maine. But I saw visions of more beach city ennui. The Keys are just a chain of islands connected by a highway. One of the towns is named Marathon, apparently what a highway engineer muttered when told to continue the highway all the way to the end. I would also miss seeing the Everglades. Oh well, I come
from the tropics so I know that sort of stuff. Then there was Miami. To come so far and not see Miami? I didn't want to stay in Miami, it was probably just Fort Lauderdale on a bigger scale. But I did want to have a glimpse of the city. Then there was the car. Would it get me back home? I felt vulnerable to mishaps, so far from home. It was the farthest I'd been away from base.

Finally, after consulting my maps, I decided to shorten my trip. Drop Key West. Drive through Miami, then turn back north. The problem was I'd told Tom, my friend in Philadelphia, I would turn up Monday night. I knew he was going away for the weekend, so I would have to arrive there before Friday. Could I make Philadelphia by Thursday night? Two days to cross FL, GA, SC, NC, VA, and MD. It would mean long driving days. Well, might as well enjoy this place today.


This place is full of Germans. There are a few Swedes and British here too. The two Swedish boys have come from LA, driving a LTD. They wanted to sell the LTD and get money to travel. While I was there a guy hired them to paint boats for $6 an hour. So they decided to stay on another week.

EPCOT

More ersatz food for breakfast. America is full of ersatz food. I must have been the last person to find out—ingredient lists are required to be in descending order of abundance. Well, my toast spread lists: corn syrup, apples, grapes, … Ah, ubiquitous corn syrup.

Today is devoted to EPCOT. I'm long past Magic Kingdom sentimentality but I've heard raves about World Showcase and Future World. I reach WD World around noon. Just outside EPCOT, a flying stone cracks my windshield half an inch from the roof. Just my luck. If I'd been going a little faster, it might have glanced off the roof instead. No hole, but several nasty spreading cracks. I don't understand how a stone came to be flying so high in the air. I was following a truck, but with another car in between. Oh well, one of those things...

EPCOT costs $28 a day to enter. A three day ticket allows one to see Magic Kingdom as well and unlimited use of the monorail connecting the two sites but I don't want to spend that much time here. The large multifaceted globe just inside the gates is Spaceship Earth, a display hosted by AT&T. It sits in the middle of Future World, a collection of hi-tech shows.

The line there is intolerable so I saunter off to World Showcase instead. This is the back half of EPCOT, so to speak, and comprises about a dozen national pavilions arranged around a man-made lake. Only a dozen? The countries here are the ones that feel they might get more tourists by having a display at EPCOT. Each display was staffed by that country's nationals, it is authentic that way at least. Wonder if they got hardship money for having to talk to silly tourists?

A glance at the folder indicated the main feature of most pavilions are gift shops and restaurants. Tables can be reserved and many good slots are booked out early. In this warm weather, food is not foremost in my mind and I am more interested in the attractions. Mexico has a boat ride through an animated display of Mexican history.

But it was China that pleasantly surprised me. I had heard of 360 degree film shows before. This is a standing room only theatre where one is surrounded by 9 screens, giving at times full circle vision of a landscape, sometimes from a plane; and at other times used to overwhelm viewers with a barrage of images. The sights and sounds of China were stirring. Many of the scenes in the film had not been seen by foreigners before. I liked this film so much that I came back to see it a second time later.

France had a 180 degree show, which was not as spectacular but equally touching. Perhaps it's because they used the music of Debussy, Saint-Saens and Satie. Canada's 360 show was quite pretty but a little too commercial. Of course they all were but there are degrees of taste. Morocco had a continuous slide display, accompanied by soundtrack, with intriguing images.

I had lunch at the Japan pavilion from the takeout section—teriyaki beef, chicken yakitori and Kirin beer. Tasty and not as expensive as you'd think. They have a display of work by women artists. One objet d'art was a video recording of an inverted pyramid of frozen stones melting and releasing stones, one at a time, to fall through a lattice of cane rods. A strange but very pleasing and relaxing sound resulted. Quite inventive.

The other pavilions were well arranged but I had no desire to spend all day at gift shops. A phone call to the Orlando branch of the hotel chain I was bumped from in DC gathered the information that the free night was for DC only and the clerk had given me the wrong information. So much for that idea.

I did not like Future World as much. Lines were longer here because the displays were snazzy but I felt they were essentially hi-tech carnival rides. In true American commercial tradition, corporations use these displays to plug their products. For example, Kodak hosted the Imagination show, which had lots of flashing lights, colored smoke and such gimmickry but little content. Kids love this sort of thing. Captain EO was a 3-D film starring Michael Jackson where he saves the world with song and dance. I enjoyed it for what it was worth, but one first has to endure a plug for Kodak film. GE hosted the Transportation show, and AT&T the Communications show in Spaceship Earth.

By 7 pm my legs felt like jelly and I decided to break for dinner. I wanted to come back and see IllumiNations, at closing time, when all the pavilions turn into lighted wonders, and lasers and fireworks punctuate the sky. I even got a re-entry stamp. But I never used it. Oh well, I have seen enough fireworks and cities at night in my time.

Some 60 miles south of Orlando I located an inexpensive motel and rested for the night. It had been such a hot day that it took the air-conditioner half an hour to displace the warm air trapped in the room.

Atlanta

Besides Gone With The Wind, which plays all the time at one Atlanta theatre, the only other thing I know about Atlanta is Stone Mountain.This is a granite outcrop which stood out when the surrounding rocks wore down over geological time. Today it is a State Park and a major recreational resource for Atlantans. There is a giant sculpture on one face of the rock. It depicts Lee, Jackson and Jefferson Davis, on horseback. This work was discontinued twice and finally finished in the 60s. Some nights in summer laser beams play on the rock. One can ride a cable car to the top of the mountain and observe the surrounding plain. All flat. In the distance, the Atlanta skyline.

On our way to downtown Atlanta, I passed this bald headed man in a convertible, taking the full brunt of the hot sun. Mad dogs and Atlantans…

Georgia has the lowest petrol prices I have seen anywhere. The road advertisements often mention diesel, which means that many trucks go through Georgia.

I thought it was only 150 miles to the Florida border, but it was a misprint. It was more like 200. Then another 60 miles or so before it was too late to check in at any motel. I decided to spend the night at Lake City, a somewhat neglected part of Florida, now that all eyes are on Orlando, Walt Disney World and Miami. Accommodation was cheaper too.

Blue Ridge Parkway

I picked up the Blue Ridge Parkway again. On the map the distance doesn't seem long, but the combination of twisty mountain roads and the 45 mph speed limit take up the whole day. Back at the Shenandoah visitor centre, there was a comment in the guest book that said: Blue Ridge Parkway is nicer and there is no charge. It was signed by someone from North Carolina. The next person wrote: So go home! But I can see why. The mountains are higher here and the scenery is grander. But that whinger neglected another fact: Shenandoah is a wildlife refuge. Blue Ridge is not. It is thinly settled.

Mt. Mitchell is the highest peak east of the Mississippi, at 6684 ft. A tragedy gave this peak its name. Dr. Elisha Mitchell, a professor at UNC, decided to measure it more accurately to refute another's claim about its height. On his way to visit Old Tom, a mountain friend of his, Mitchell fell to his death near a waterfall. A nearby peak is named Old Tom. See how serious academics can get?

I left the Parkway at Asheville. The Parkway continues into the Pisgah National Forest and ends at the Great Smoky Mountains (named for the mist that surrounds the peaks), but I didn't have time. I had to be in Atlanta by nightfall.

It was interesting to hear the accent get broader the further south I went. At a petrol station in South Carolina, the cashier said thankee.

Skyline Drive

The Skyline Drive connects directly to the Blue Ridge Parkway. This part of the trail is not in a national park and therefore has no entrance fees. I thought I would have to endure the dregs of civilisation on this section, but mercifully, the landscape was reasonably free of human desecration. The vistas along the way were magnificent. Not as clear a day as I wished—it never is in summer but one does get to see the texture of mountains fading away into the distance.

Although this part of the trip was the high point of my holiday I can't think of much to write, which is proof that it was peaceful and relaxing. No ugly advertising, no urban blight, no drivers behind wishing you would go faster. Just lots of greenery, the sound of birds and grand vistas nearly all the time.

I decided to break for the night at Roanoke. For some reason, maybe the weekend, Roanoke was full of travellers. My first choice motel was full. The one opposite wanted to charge me half again as much as their AAA listed rates. Inspite of the fact they wrote Rates Subject to Change in the AAA tour book, this is insupportable. Since it is only 7 pm and still light, I drove on. I found a nice room in Wytheville, 80 miles down the road. There is no good reason I picked Wytheville—I could have chosen any small town near Roanoke—save one. A friend of mine from Malaysia worked and lived there for a while after getting his MBA from Virginia Tech. Unfortunately I could not make the trip south while he was still there as he left to take his new post in Singapore at the end of April. But I am slightly curious about this small town. Well, it had two main streets, half a dozen fast food places, a couple of banks and that's about it. The phone book for the whole district was one centimetre thick.

Shenandoah National Park

After the last talk I wanted to hear I drove out west. My original plan was to stay overnight at Front Royal, which is the northern terminus of the Skyline Drive and the backbone of the Shenandoah National Park, and to enter the park first thing the next morning. Since it was only early afternoon, I decided to enter the park right away.

Before Shenandoah I visited Great Falls State Park in Virginia. This is about 30 miles outside Washington on the Potomac. There the river plunge tens of feet. Nothing compared to Niagara falls of course. The Great Falls lie on the Fall Line, which is where the relatively flat coastal plain meets the foothills of the Appalachians. Many cities have developed near the Fall Line because this is the limit of navigation from the ocean. These cities include New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Richmond, and Raleigh.

It had been raining heavily the last few evenings so the river was muddy and swollen. A pole stood on the river bank, 20 feet above the water level. The highest water mark recorded was near the top of the pole, 10 feet above the ground. That must have been a big flood. In fact, it was such seasonal flooding that contributed to the abandonment of the Potomac canal, which runs parallel to the river, traces of which can still be seen. The Potomac canal was superseded by the Ohio and Chesapeake canal, running parallel to the Potomac on the Maryland side. Today that canal is used for pleasure boating. Signs posted all over warned against approaching the river and falls too closely. The undertow is strong and can prevent a person from regaining the surface when sucked underneath. Most of the victims had been drinking and many had been foolhardy enough to approach the falls in canoes or rafts.

Shenandoah is an Indian word meaning daughter of the stars. It is the sort of sentimental name you can use for Hollywood movies and roadside diners. At the turn of the century, what is now park land was cultivated by mountain people. When the land lost its fertility, the settlers left the mountains. The state of Virginia bought the land and made a present of the park to the Federal government. During the depression people were kept employed building the Skyline Drive. After more than half a century, the park is reverting to forest and many species of wildlife have returned. While I was there I observed deer and rabbits at close range. Feeding the wildlife is forbidden, otherwise the animals get too tame and used to handouts. Besides, they deserve better than junk food.

The Appalachian Trail runs along the Blue Ridge. It is a 1000 mile walking trail that stretches from the Smoky Mountains in Georgia to Mount Katahdin in Maine. I intersected the trail at several places. One can start the trek in Georgia in springtime and finish up in New England by fall. Besides having physical stamina, one would have to live for days on end without human contact. Or go with someone who won't drive you up the wall. I knew two friends who went rafting down a river, a journey of 40 miles or so. By the second night, A was driving B crazy by singing the same boy scout tune over and over again and kneading a ball of sealing wax.

The park speed limit is 35 mph to protect the animals and the environment. In any case, it is hard to go faster on winding mountain roads. All along the drive are scenic overlooks with explanatory signs that explain the history of the park, the landscape or the flora and fauna. It was a very enjoyable drive for me. By nightfall I reached a campsite. US campsites cater mostly to trailers or RVs (recreational vehicles), as they are called, so amenities are primitive for tent dwellers. I had just enough time to make dinner and set up the tent before sundown. Halfway through heating the soup water, the gas ran out. It was my fault, the last time that stove was used was two years ago, on my Eastern Canada epic trip. Just enough gas to warm the water.

Retiring to bed early is fine by me, I'm tired enough. Around midnight rain descended in buckets. My tent wasn't waterproof but sheds water if nothing is in contact with the fabric. Unfortunately, my sleeping bag is touching the fabric so the water slowly seeps in. I tried to combat insomnia by listening to my walkman but the batteries ran out after a couple of cassettes. Nothing to do but try to sleep as I got damper and damper. By daybreak, I'm clammy but not cold. I escaped to the campground laundry and showered and dried out there. The morning mist was so heavy that I could hardly see 10 feet in front of the car. I am several thousand feet above sea level, after all. A couple of deer are on the grounds, fairly unafraid of humans. There is a Californian couple waiting for their laundry. They are touring the country in their RV. I gave them all the AAA maps they can use as a present. When the cafeteria opens I ordered breakfast. They burn the sausage and the eggs are awful. Served on disposable plates too. Better than going hungry anyway. Then back to collect the tent and sleeping bag.

Washington DC

A report on the conference doesn't belong here so I'll skip that.  The presentation wasn't as smooth as I'd hoped, I'm told I raced through the material. Chalk that down to experience.

For fun, I took myself to a cinema Tuesday night. My hotel was near Georgetown U so I found an art film cinema across the street. I bought a huge bucket of popcorn and sat down to watch Percy Adlon's Bagdad Café. His previous opus was Sugarbaby.  Marianne Sägebrecht starred in both. The story is about a German tourist who wanders into a run-down Nevada roadhouse and ends up turning the place into a popular truck stop. A slow moving story but the film has a subtle charm.

I didn't see the point of renting a city hotel room when I could move to a motel out in the suburbs that charged half as much and is near the metro, so I did exactly that.

To Washington DC

At 8 am the loud noise of Frank's phone woke us both. It's his girlfriend in Boston giving him a wake up call. Frank trundled off to the campus while I slowly got dressed. A short tour of the campus and soon it was noon. The CMU campus is smaller than you'd imagine. The engineering school erected a memorial to Judith Resnick, one of the ill-fated Challenger crew. She was an alumna (wonder if that is the right word). CMU itself is not well known, but the CS department is.

Pennsylvania is one place you can still smell pine forests. I-48 is quite scenic because I was crossing the Appalachians. West Virginia allows a 65 mph speed limit so I made good time.

At the conference hotel in Washington they told me I'd been bumped. Some guests wanted to stay longer so they had no room for me. They offered me a letter good for a free night in their hotel chain and directed me to another hotel. Later I found the offer wasn't as good as I thought. I think this is shabby treatment because I went to the trouble to make a reservation with my credit card and all that, but not much can be done. I liked the other hotel even less. It didn't have in-house parking and was more expensive. But I had a presentation the next day and all I wanted was a good night's sleep.


Washington is one of my less favourite cities. Only bureaucrats would name streets after numbers and letters. What makes it worse is that the grid system is only faintly rectangular. Streets intersect at odd angles and many of the roads are only one way. The public spaces are grandiose but inhuman to walk. It is overpriced and stinks of yuppies. While I sat eating my dinner, sirens wailed through the streets. On the plus side, it has many excellent ethnic restaurants run by political refugees. Nearly every menial worker (bellhop, parking attendant, maid) I saw was non-white. Not wetbacks I assume. The subway system actually works well.

To Pittsburgh

I'm off to the south! Got up at 8 am. I wish I had more sleep for the long drive but I had to do all sorts of trivial things. While I bustled around, the recorder transferred my favourite albums to cassette for the trip. By 11 I was ready to go. On the way out I got cash from the teller machine and filled the tank.

In the car I had two shoulder bags with clothes and documents for the conference. I had two dozen cassettes, which from experience I will be sick of after a week or so. But anything is better than commercial radio. Appropriately enough, one of the albums is Pat Metheny's Travels. I also had a couple of jettison paperbacks, books that I don't think highly enough of to read more than once and so abandon at hostels and such places after finishing. They were Jack Kerouac's On the Road and Henry James' The American. I have read neither author before, though I have seen the film The Bostonians. James is a character study writer but the society he describes is long gone. Very little of what he writes generalises to the future.

I had also camping equipment—tent, sleeping bag, sponge pad and gas stove, just in case I decided to spend a night at a park. I also packed cooking utensils. And a pillow for the occasional roadside nap. The nice thing about driving is that you can be prepared for almost anything. The problem is that one tends to overfill the car with junk. Most belongings stay unused 99% of the time. This is true of both travel and life. Oh for the spartan days of backpacking through Europe.

My initial destination was Buffalo, then westwards to Erie and south to Pittsburgh. Erie was nothing remarkable. I don't know what they make here and I didn't care. It was a typical midwest industrial town. Erie is Pennsylvania's only port on the Great Lakes and in fact the only port if you don't count Philadelphia, which is at the head of the Delaware River. Presque Isle juts out like a cashew nut from the Lake Erie shore. It is joined to the mainland by a narrow spit and curves back so much you can row across the narrow opening. I don't know if the French name means it is nearly an island or that it is near the mainland. It is also a state park. There are cycling trails and beaches. It is a warm Sunday and half of Erie seems to be here. Maybe even half of Pennsylvania, here may be the only decent beach these folks have.

Frank Ritter is expecting me at 7:30 pm so I drive on. Unremarkable country scenery, indistinguishable from New York's. The one thing you notice when entering Pennsylvania is that they take speeding violations seriously. Their signs enumerate the fines for excess speeds. Or maybe they are just more mercenary.

Frank Ritter was the chap I roomed with during my summer at BBN. Then he became a grad student at CMU Psych. He's a good sport. I once told a friend his name was really Rank Fritter but that he had a speech impediment and pronounced Frank Ritter.

I was delayed by construction on I-79. There is no easy entrance to Pittsburgh from the north. One has to overshoot the city and come back northeastwards on I-279. Once I saw the topography of the city I understood why. Pittsburgh is built at the confluence of three rivers: Ohio, Allegheny and Monongahela. The city lies on steep valley sides and pollution gets trapped. Now that King Iron is dying, Pittsburgh is more livable. But the city still has a blue collar atmosphere, lots of factory workers live here. Old-timers in Pittsburgh still call the CMU students Tech students. The local beer is Iron City and quite decent too. But back to the car. You drive up this steep slope then down the other equally steep side, all the time trying to keep in lane with mad PA drivers on both sides. You enter the Fort Pitt tunnel and emerge immediately onto a bridge high above the water! Now that is landscape. Then you drive at high speed (because you can't slow the traffic following you) along the north bank of the Mon, with a concrete wall on one side and skyscrapers on the other, looking for Forbes Avenue.

Frank had a paper to finish by Monday so we got a bite at the Big O, a fast food joint selling hot dogs, huge servings of fries, chilli and similar American culinary delicacies. The menacing looking clientele comes for free. Along one wall are a bank of hi-tech game machines and the enlightening notice: We are not responsible for any money lost on these machines. It is less dangerous than it looks, there are a couple of bouncers on duty and the cops pay frequent visits. For this genre of food, it is alright. I was tired from the drive and the lack of sleep, so I fell asleep on Frank's floor after a chat and a can of Iron City.