Three stories. The third one may be the best.

          The first isn’t so much a story as an update. My life-long friend, Keith Marty, is in a Cleveland Clinic affiliated hospital in Cleveland. He has pulmonary fibrosis. He can breathe but cannot process the oxygen. He is currently on 25 liters of pure oxygen which, for those of you who know, is a huge amount. They are looking into the possibility now of a lung transplant, but that is a lengthy process just to line it up and it is likely he wouldn’t survive for this to take place. Standard procedure right now is, for a critically ill patient, to have one visitor a day and it must be a family member. I was in the area (60 miles away) when they transferred him from his home on the other side of Ohio. His sister called me and told me what was going on. I was at my son’s place for his 40^th birthday. He would have taken me to the hospital (I don’t see well at night) so I called the hospital to see if I could come up and see him at the ER when they got there. No. Can I come up and sit with the family in the waiting room. No. Can I meet the ambulance and briefly speak to him as they wheel him in. No.

          So it was appearing that the next time I could see my buddy was at his funeral. But wait! Wife Gloria is someone you don’t want to mess with. She kept after them and kept after them and all of a sudden I was going to be allowed to see him on Wednesday of this week. I drove to Cleveland on Wednesday morning and got a room at a Holiday Inn in Independence, Ohio. (I could have stayed with my son or Keith’s sister, but both options took me another hour or so to the East and would have increased my driving time. Plus, my son has cats.) On Wednesday afternoon I finally got in to see him.

          He is now into his fifth week in the hospital, which includes the time he was in the hospital in the town in which he now lives. When I got there he got out of bed and transferred to a chair next to the bed and went into a struggle for air. I have seen this before in people, so I knew it would pass, but to see Keith suffering like that just put a knife in my heart. However, we talked and we laughed. After a while they took him outside and he rejoiced in being in the sun. By the time I left, after five hours, it was 7 in the evening and he was exhausted. They will probably send him home next week with Hospice. They live in Defiance, Ohio, which is two hours from where I live. There I can see him without problem.

          Keith is amazed that so many people are praying for him. He is very appreciative. When he does go home I will give his home address to anyone who wants it to send a card.

          Story number two. Cleveland has had a large exodus of people over the last few decades. People do not like to live in big, dirty cities. The population has dropped to around 400,000 people, but the metro area is around 4,000,000 people. People live outside the city but work in and around the city. To compare, Fort Wayne, Indiana has a population of 275,000 and the metro area has a combined population of 400,000 people. Cleveland has four major interstates that run through it, Fort Wayne has one. Driving through Cleveland is a rude awakening to city life. (Note; see John Eltzroth)

          I don’t mind it because I have spent a lot of time driving the city. Chicago, D.C., Miami…been there, done that and didn’t like it. Pittsburgh and Indianapolis…I just don’t want to go back. But Cleveland, as bad or nearly as bad as any of them, almost feels like home. If you are ever heading to Cleveland it will likely to be going to a hospital. They have made those accessible and they are easy to get too. By using the long way. Most of us Cleveland Race-way pros prefer the more direct, yet challenging, routes.

          Still, there have been changes, so my trusty GPS went with me. (I have named my GPS ‘Christine’ and she is the perfect travel companion.) I noticed this with Christine in Pittsburgh last year and Indianapolis any time; she gets to a point and cannot keep up. Traffic in  and out and all at high speed and all sorts of feeder roads everywhere, is more than her little micro-chip brain can handle. It was amusing in Cleveland because I knew where I am going, but in Indianapolis it nearly got her tossed out the window.

          You become a different kind of a driver in a big city as opposed to downtown Urbana. Some become fearful in the horrible traffic. In that case, you should stay home. Some become defensive drivers. In that case, you need to be defensive because you will be targeted. The best Cleveland drivers are the ones who become aggressive/defensive. Like sharks sensing blood in the water while also looking for killer whales. That’s me in Cleveland.

          Thursday morning I left my motel to head back to Indiana. Independence is on the southeast edge of Cleveland, so you can’t just point west and start out. Instead you have to wind around and head into the heart of the mayhem and then get your road out. I don’t know why, it is just the way it is. In so doing, you meet the fearful drivers and the defensive drivers. They are dangerous. Usually, though, you can pick them out. The fearful driver is in over his (or most usually, her) head. There is a lot of slowing down, speeding up, turn signaling, trying to squeeze in…desperation. In one particular place where the highway splits left and right and keeps going straight all at the same time, we were moving at 65-70 miles an hour in six packed lanes. I saw the lady trying to get over and I knew she would be trouble. Sure enough, she jerked to the right and closed her eyes and then slammed on her brakes. I saw her coming and anticipated her actions, hitting my own brakes. Our two cars came to a stop with hardly any air between my driver side door and her passenger side door. Others had sensed her actions as well, because they were streaming past us without giving a second look. She grabbed an opening in the flow and drove away, not even a glance at me.

          The others to look for are the people driving U-hauls. I hate those things. If you had a job driving a truck like a U-haul, you would have to have a CDL. But a U-haul is just someone who owns a Prius who is moving. Most of them have no clue about how to handle a loaded truck and they have loaded it with no concept about how to load a truck to achieve balance. And then, they drive in Cleveland. Just a few minutes after the near accident, there was a car in front of me and a U-haul in front of him. We both had our eyes on him. All of a sudden the U-haul slammed on his brakes. No reason. Just wham! The guy in front of me was on his brakes at practically the same moment, so he was anticipating stupid. I didn’t bother with brakes. I already knew the shoulder was empty, so I took that route and passed them. But now, as I write this, I am reminded of a group in Cleveland who made some money in a scam until they got caught. This was thirty years ago. Heavy traffic, a rental truck with an old vehicle behind and some poor sap following that. The rental would signal the vehicle following that they were going to brake, the car following would slam on their brakes and the following vehicle would slam into the back of that car (or pick-up). The rental would drive on. Lawsuits followed until it was figured out. I wonder if I was being set up. Interesting.

          Third story. After the hospital time with Keith, I headed back to my motel. Across the road from the motel was a Denny’s restaurant. I don’t know of any around here, but they are hardly a five star eatery. We used to say in Ohio, ‘you didn’t plan to go to Denny’s, you just wound up there.’ But, I always kind of liked Denny’s and so I decided to stop there and eat. In Ohio, you can dine-in, but the mask stays on until the food comes. Which means you order with you and the waitress wearing masks. There’s a lot of, ‘what?’, ‘could you say that again?’ You get the picture.

          The menu there is not extensive. Breakfast stuff and burgers, mostly. I decided what I wanted and she came by. Pleasant little thing, but that was all. “Yeah, I would like some hash browns, two slices of toast and three eggs, over easy.” Simplicity. “Sir, the eggs only come in twos and fours. We don’t do threes or fives.” Folks, it is eight o’clock at night. I have driven and then spent an emotional day. Now this pleasant little thing is telling me I cannot get three eggs. “Well, look right here. It says eggs can be a side at .60 each, so I want a side of an egg.” “I am sorry sir, but eggs come in twos or fours.” “But I don’t want four. I want three.” “She was very apologetic, but firm. “They only come in twos and fours.” I looked at the menu again. “Well, OK. I’ll have the Grand Slam.” “Very good choice, sir! Would you want sausage or bacon?” “Well, you see, I am allergic to pork, so can I substitute something?” “Certainly, sir! Just choose from the sides.” “Hmmmm. Well, they all look good. I tell you what. I’ll have the fruit bowl and an egg side.” “Very good, sir! I will put that right in!”

          So, I wound up with a tiny little bowl of a slice of strawberry and a couple of grapes, hash browns, two slices of toast, and three eggs. I miss home.