Counting Rabbits

After Crete we had a couple more days to kill before rendezvousing in Peoria, IL with Conner's folks.  It had been more than a week since either of us had had a proper shower and we were in dire need of a campsite.  For the most part, we manage to keep relatively clean by sponge bathing in coffee shop restrooms; washing face and hair in the sink, washrag swabbing our armpits, daily teeth brushing.  But there is only so much one can do without a proper shower.  We stopped at the Chillicothe Recreational Area (pronounced Chili-cathy) for $25 a night.  $25!  Doesn't that seem high to anyone else?  We can't afford to stay at campgrounds very often, but when we do this seems to be the going rate for a spot of dirt upon which to rest one's head for the night.

I can't remember the ground manager's name but he and his wife were awesome.  Classic car buffs themselves, they came to share a couple beers with us and talk cars.  Then another long-term resident who reminded me of Flanders from The Simpsons, came to chat as well and lent us his go-cart for the night.  Every Saturday at the campground, a group of 4 go-cart owners go on a "Rabbit Counting Mission" right around dusk.  We were rounded up, Bloody Mary mix in hand, and were recruited to join in the rabbit counting.  The premise is pretty simple: guess how many rabbits you'll spot along the ride and whoever gets closest wins.  No prize, just gloating rights for that week.  The men drove, the women spotted, beer koosies at the ready, and country music blaring.  And it was a blast; bouncing around the uneven trails, taking a break to watch the train rush by, and spotting-get this-absolutely no rabbits.  The Chillicothe campground was great.  Hands down, great people.  Stop by if you're ever in the area.

Art installation from Cracking Art Group