Saint Joseph
I was scaring myself remembering the scene from Vacatioon where they end up in the wrong part of Saint Louis. I drove for north vowing to get off the freeway at the first sign of a gas station to look at the map. Afte 30 miles I got my first opportunity.
I decided I would not give up on my fantasy so easily. I filled up with gas and headed back to St. Joe disappointed that I expected to stay indoors for the first time since I sold my house. That is not entirely true. I spent 3 nights indoors in San Ramon and 3 in Cottage Grove in the last month. As I was driving by an exit 5 miles from the one with all the motel advertisements I saw an ad for AOK RV park. I somehow found the exit in the dark and made my way down another one way gravel roads passed dilapidated mobile homes to a small park with half a dozen RVs paked in a field next to piles of rusted out cars. Disappointed, I headed back to the interstate.
I took the motel row exit and got a smoking room on the ground floor of a motel 6 so I could put my bike inside. The atmosphere was so reminiscent of my many trips up and down the west coast or across the country or to Reno or Vegas. I was being shown what it would be like to retunr to that standard of living, and I was not pleased. I was in the wrong part of town living with the wrong kind of people, people on their way down. "I have sunk into the abyss," I wrote in my journal. It was 1150 pm. I had not eaten and I was not hungry or ready to stopped, but I did anyway.
After touring the local faire of greasy fast food restaraunt and returning with a quarter pounder with fries, I found the room had a phone line for modem connections. I cheecked my eamil and laid on the bed, not wanting to sleep. I felt better after I showered and typed up my jopurnal in the morning. I saw St. Josephs had a bike trail along the pony express. If I had enough gumption I might try it.