Day 29: Ludington MI - Fort Larrington

Travels With a Donkey in the Cevennes Western Half-Devil Monster Face in Leftpondia - Part 7

Leisurely start because, frankly, we have ages to reach O'Hare.  Not to mention the extra hour gained from the the time zone change.  Considering the route goes parallel to the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, and the number of signs to places called Something [Harbor|Port|Landing] it's astonishing how much of the lake is visible.  Yes, this much: 0.  But US-31 is a nice enough rural dual carriageway most of the way (occasionally it's a nasty one that goes through towns) and I got a friendly wave from a chap in a shiny Roush-modified Mustang and the rest areas are nice.  Flower beds and suchlike.  But wait.  What is this?

Welcome to Michigan - twinned with the Sto Plains

Eventually Michigan is left behind, leaving unanswered the question puzzling me since yesterday: what's with the trailers?  Normal USAnian trailers, as in articulated lorry ones, have two axles, but those to be found around road works in Michigan have up to eight.  I aten't seen such beasties elsewhere, but there must be a good reason.  Mustn't there?

We appear to have found ourselves in Indiana, which was an unexpected surprise.

"Another state, another bin!" said Thomas.  "Theatre here I come!"

Also the sun came out.  And stayed out when we crossed into Illinois and got our hour back, and ended up in an humungous queueueueue on I-90 with the overhead signs reading "O'Hare? You're 'avin' a giraffe!¹".  Reached the Ratmobile's resting place almost exactly when I intended to, though, albeit minus most remaining fingernails.  Avis Lady scrawls some mystic runes on the Ratmobile's window.  These probably translate to:

• Needs a bloody good clean inside and out, or
• The tax expired nearly four weeks ago, or
• Scrap immediately

As long as they don't want more money.  As near as makes no odds 7500 miles and 29 miles per titchy USAnian gallon, or 34.8 to the Proper BRITISH one, or 8.1 litres per hundred Napoleonic Wossnames.

Check in.  Two minutes.  Security.  Two more minutes.  What on earth is going on?  Cheapskates airside only give you 30 minutes free wifi, so after that's gone there's nothing to do except watch the legions of the self-entitled waltz up the desk at the gate and demand whatever it is these people demand.  Look out of the window, you berks!  What is that, at the end of the jetway?  Yes, it's not-an-aeroplane.

Oh wait, they're just parking it now.  I hope they've done let all the arrivals out and filled it with petrol and food and stuff already coz we're supposed to leave in 63 minutes time...

"Hurrah!" cried Thomas.  ""Shiny metal bird take Western Half-Devil Monster Face away from Land of Bad Coffee!"

Uneventful flight and even managed to get some kip despite being sandwiched between a couple of Mr Larrington-sized chaps.  Harmless passage through LHR.  How am I going to replenish my stock of airport horror stories if standards keep slipping like this?  Bus to Woking, taxi to Fort Larrington, end of Automatic Diary 2016.  Any suggestions for 2017 travels welcome.

"England's green and pleasant land at last" said Thomas.  "RADA next, eh?"

A quick hurrah for DJ Random, who compounded the sin of playing Black Sabbath on arrival at the giant cross in Groom TX with cueing up Little Miss Higgins' Liar Liar at the very moment we passed the "Radville" town sign and Raw Power by Detroit's finest, Iggy & The Stooges, as we crossed International Bridge.  Music prize of the trip, though, goes to the University of Toronto, who had AC/DC's Highway To Hell blaring out of the chase car as Vortex set off on yet another run.

1. Lie