November 9, 2018

           [Author’s note 2022: this is the only entry found for this date and it is in Rich Text format, indicating something wrong while on the road. Under such conditions expect things to be out of chronological order and possibly refer to unexplained topics.]

           It's sad knowing a lot of this trip represents the last real time I will see most people. That's why I'm staying mum on names and places. It's a stage we all come to, those who live long enough. You get all kinds of people saying you have not changed a bit, but go look in the mirror. If you count the hand-writtens that may some day be posted, I've been blogging now for forty years. I have never had time to go back over my work, often the only time anything gets viewed is during the yesteryear feature. Ah, but that is your assurance it is live reporting.

           [Author's note: the first time I wrote something I intended to keep was, I remember, May of 1969. All those were long lost by 1979, when I left I began daily records, mostly of what happened around me. Those were some hard times, very hard times. Two years later, I had the best paying job of my life, and never met a gal I could trust. There's a super-regret for you.]

           I got on the road to St. Loius and towns like Paducah that I've never even heard of. Apparently I went through Kentucky without noticing. I was last there in 1999 and didn't care for it then, either. That's the state where the Microtel jerk double-charged me for a hotel. He said he "didn't know" if there were any more economical places in the area. When I left in the morning there was a Motel 6 less than a mile away.