Author Topic: Vax Americana

Vax Americana
« on: January 31, 2021 »
Got up quite early this morning as I couldn’t sleep, as usual. ("You don't try hard enough," according to one source.) Rather than toss and turn, I opted to go for a road trip instead, if a dozen miles counts.

Riding at night appeals because a) there's less traffic, and fewer hoofing it & puffing, in these times of suspect aerosols; b) I can sing if necessary; and c) I can weave all over the damn road, which sometimes comes in handy when going up a steep hill.

I don’t usually have a theme for my rides – Just Ride is good enough – but a few minutes out I remembered that there’s an American diner

not far away that I’ve only ever driven past. 4am seemed ideal for a visit.

What's this?

The Baxters might want to rethink their welcome mat. Walking on the stars and stripes calls for a citizen's arrest, at the very least.

They have a Doorman of Steel. He must have used his X-ray vision to confound my shot, which explains the gauzy bands.

Lady Liberty's chin appears safe.

"Not what is was," complained a patron in a review last month. "The milkshakes now come in a plastic glass like the ones in McDonald's..." As if milkshakes in plastic weren't bad enough, "Now they don't even come with a flag on top."

"We popped in for a full English breakfast," said another, clearly breaching government regulations on GETTING IT, as if that Union Jack sharing space with Old Glory out front was a disclaimer.

Nearby is a village hall where salvation is on offer. As I approached to have a peek through the windows, looking for who knows what (I think I wanted to see how far apart the chairs were), I attracted the attention of a security guard. He was a bit shy about having his picture taken.

We had a very nice chat about the vaccine, exchanged places of origin (Oban for him), and went our respective ways: he back to protecting those precious precious bottles, me down the road to my second and final stop on this extravaganza of a themed ride.

School Hill was steep enough in the dark that I opted to walk down part of it. I'm not a fan of going swiftly downhill even when hospitals aren't chock-a-block.

No word of a lie, my iPod Shuffle/karaoke machine then served up:

If you don't want to hit play, that's a lively song about dodging death (and finding love, natch).

I arrived at my final destination. A little too far away for flash photography

stood Bateman's, home to the exceedingly rich Kiplings.

"At very first sight the Committee of Ways and Means said: 'That’s her! The only She! Make an honest woman of her – quick!’' We entered and felt her Spirit – her Feng Shui – to be good. We went through every room and found no shadow of ancient regrets...

Rudyard's wife Carrie was from the States, and they both lived in Vermont for a while. Regrets, there would be a few.

Rud now commands a fine view of Burwash high street,

shrugging off would-be kidnappers and perhaps daydreaming of Mandalay.

. . .

see Jabbed