We are not disappointed by the secondary highway selection, it proves that we were right in New York. Get off the interstate, see the country, face fewer hurried vehicles and enjoy! In the populous northeast, houses, farms, businesses and towns, all seemingly languorous, are passed briskly at the posted speed of 55 mph. There is nothing like it in Western Canada that comes to mind, except the Old Island Highway on Vancouver Island.

Noon brings Fremont and Lunch...it's the home of a Heinz ketchup factory. At 3:15 p.m. Elaine takes over, 20 minutes before we enter Indiana...The Crossroads of America. Two hours later, Elaine is just another frustrated driver on, you guessed Interstate 80/90, as the Sunday afternoon crowds try to return through Gary, Indiana to Chicago, Illinois. After miles of stop, go, stop, we exit the interstate, head south, and pick up Hwy. 30, another secondary route, for a straight through shot to Joliet. Chicago Heights is one tough looking neighborhood, with a sharp contrast between broken down buildings, weeds, poor folks and the "regal one" in a Mercedes Kompressor roadster. Nonetheless, we have moved while others stewed. Unfortunately, we are 45 miles from the Windy City's lakeshore and will not see it this time. Elaine is disappointed (and with the next morning's deluge, does not see downtown Joliet and the canals either).

We stay at our first Motel 6, well maintained and fairly priced premises.

During the night a violent thunderstorm erupts, with a continuous, rolling, crashing cannonade and lightning to rent the heavens. Elaine gets full credit for entering the downpour to ensure that Pooh's windows are closed (the 1/2 inch crack admitted a fair bit of water first). Not necessarily a bright move in bare feet, which is easy for me to say.