Hood Ornaments

Auburn-Cord-Duesenberg Museum

Bobby Darin's Ride

Seen at the Auburn-Cord-Duesenberg Museum

Auburn-Cord-Duesenberg Museum

The Auburn-Dusenberg-Cord Museum in Auburn, Illinois was a total splurge when Conner and I passed through. Although, by this point (in September 2010) we had been on the road for a couple months and felt like we hadn't really seen or done anything because we were afraid of spending the money. So we decided to just forget about our dwindling bank account and have some fun. Plus, if we needed to then we could make a pit-stop in North Carolina, stay with my folks, get jobs, and save up some more gas money. At $10 per ticket, this museum was a total splurge, but one of the nicest I've been too.The whole museum is housed in the old Auburn-Cord-Duesenberg (aka the ACD Museum) headquarters; a beautiful art deco building. The thing I loved most about these cars was all the details...I took a lot of detail shots. We posted all of the photos here.

The smaller headlights are attached to the steering shaft so that when you turn the wheel, the lights turn in the same direction; and look at that cute little horn.

Turn signal with a little arrow.

Hey, Got Any Ice?

We left Terry, Merilyn, and Conner's parents in Peoria and headed to Auburn, Illinois near the Michigan border. We wanted to hit up the Auburn-Duesenberg-Cord Museum the next morning, so we pulled off onto a cute little neighborhood side street to camp for the night. We were playing cards and drinking bloody marys that evening when we heard a bunch of people our age having a camp fire in the yard of the house we were parked outside of. It took us forever to work up the courage to "go make friends". We planned a ruse to gain access to their fenced-in back yard; taking our cups and some bloody marys, we asked for ice, saying we were parked by the road and were traveling around the country. The girl who answered the door looked at us funny, went and got some ice for us. She handed the small bag to us while closing the door and said, "Well, there you go. Have a good night." Our grand plan of making friends on the road was completely foiled. And on top of that, later we heard them all saying, "What kind of people camp in a neighborhood for the night? That's so weird..." Needless to say, Auburn, Illinois is not on the top of our list for Friendliest Towns In America.

Peoria, Illinois

After our stay visit to Chicago/Crete, and our counting rabbits adventure in Chillicothe, we meandered down to Peoria, Illinois to rendezvous with Conner's parents and their friends, Terry & Merilyn. This was back in September-ish. Now Terry & Merilyn are the kind of couple that I strive to be when I'm in my 60's. They travel, they have a lovely house with lovely friends coming over for dinner, and they laugh a lot. Super cool people.They were telling us that back in the mafia heyday, Peoria was where the mobsters would go to dodge the police for a bit; and also where Frank Lloyd Wright spent some time.

In The Car

Back in September 2010, Conner and I drove through Illinois on our way to Peoria. It was corn fields the whole way, nothing but flat corn fields. I made Conner stop and take some photos...these are the fruits of our labor.

Butterflies

Driving across Illinois~September 2010

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

Being Drunk Under The Table In Crete, IL

I do apologize for jumping back and forth between reporting on where we've been and where we are now.  I'm sure it's terribly confusing and I need to catch up stat.  Going back in time once again...

After we had stayed with Mary and Pat for a couple nights, we decided it was time to get out of their hair.  We had spent a great deal of time outside their house as to not be a total nuisance; by going to Chicago or down to one of the few local bars in Crete, IL.  As a result of our bar hopping we ended up befriending the bartender Paul at Chucks' Place and his buddy, the Other Paul, the buttercream icing maestro.  If we all couldn't be found at Chuck's then we were right across the street at Jason's Pub...or more like Jason's parking lot.  Conner and I camped out in the bar parking lot for a couple nights, then over to the public library parking lot, and then back to Jason's for one more night before we mosied on. 

I'm always surprised when we go into a small town and there are young people, or moreover, attractive young people.  I always assume they would have all run to the big city the first chance they got.  But in Crete this wasn't the case.  We met a lot of great folks here and I'd go back to visit in a heartbeat.  Although I must confess that Crete kids can drink Conner and I under the table every single time.  Coming from Austin, I drink more than average.  But Crete, man, they sure can put it away.

We even got to check out the weekly car cruise; every Monday night from 5 to 7.  If you have a semi-old car, then bring it along, sign it up and receive a free pizza buffet for the whole family at Aurelio's.  They had some purdy cool cars.

This is Gupie, it's the cutest car ever and one day I would like to make it mine.  It has an impromptu convertible top so that Conner's head can stick out when he rides with me since Gupie's so small and Conner's so tall.

Sunday Outting

Conner and I spent two nights at the Biblical Zion campground north of Chicago after we dropped Dan off at the airport as he moved to upstate New York.  But the $25 a night price tag was more than we could bear to spend and once again we searched for a place to stay outside of town.  A distant relative of my step-father miraculously pulled through and hooked us up with his high-school friend from 40 years prior.  An older literary couple, Mary and Pat Kerrigan were so terribly sweet to let a couple of strangers camp out with them in Crete, Illinois. 

We took the tram in to town one Sunday since the only thing we had really seen of Chicago had been glimpsed from the car window.  We spent most of the day wandering around without any agenda; we stumbled upon a Chinese festival, a children's festival sponsored by Target, and the Summer Dance.  It was a beautiful city and would have loved to spend a bit more time there.  Conner and I decided that we would definitely have to come back--but when we had more money.  It's a big city with big city prices and as I have inherited my father's expensive taste, I tend to want to throw caution to the wind and spend what money we had on a nice Chicago dinner.  However Conner's way more pragmatic than I and promised that one day we would return and splurge on a really nice dinner-but just not now.

Chicago view from Millennium Park

Sampling the famous Chicago architecture

Cloud Gate, sculpture by Anish Kapoor in Millennium Park.  Conner and I are in the middle.

The Chicago Summer Dance.  The cutest thing ever!  On the last Sunday of every month (if I'm not mistaken) Chicago hosts a communal dance.  They had a big band and a jazz singer and everyone came out and danced the afternoon away.  Cuteness.

A super stylish couple at the Summer Dance.

Chicago Roads

I, like most people, think of Chicago and immediately think of their illustrious gangster past.  I envision beautiful cars driving through downtown, pulling into alleyways to deposit their luxuriously dressed inhabitants into speakeasies where they will spend the remaining pre-dawn hours dancing the night away.  Chicago also brings to mind the vibrant art scene, electric jazz, and deep dish pizza that will make you completely full after just one slice.  But that's about all I know about the place.
Photo via The Exceptional Man

After we made our way back from visiting the wrong-side-of-the-tracks in southern Chicago, we snaked our way through downtown, by the Lake Michigan coast, heading north towards the closest campground.  We had desperately tried to find a place to park our camper in the suburbs but to no avail.  The closest campground was in Zion, IL; two miles from the Wisconsin boarder, where the Cancer Centers Of America in Chicago are located, and where all the roads are named after Biblical characters...in alphabetical order, starting with Abraham at the lake front in the east and going all the way to Zebulun to the west.  There's no booze to be found here and the Zionese idea of a hot date on Friday night is a session of bible study.

Sewing at the Zion campground

As we drove through town we quickly discovered that by-far-and-away the roads in Chicago are horrendous.  Worst roads ever!  I naively assumed that some of the millions of organized crime loot would be used to smooth over the roads.  I thought that they wouldn't want their luxury gangster cars to rattle apart.  Poor Breathless almost rattled apart while we were up there.  No, in fact she did rattle apart--something about a bracket falling off which becomes dangerous when we brake.  Mental note to self: never again try to drive in Chicago unless we have a huge tank of an SUV that we borrowed from a car rental company that's fully covered by insurance so if that car falls apart, it's simply not our problem.

Photo Via No Games Chicago

Bad Bad Leroy Brown

Jumping back in time to about mid-August...

Why is that travelers inevitably wander into the bad part of town when they first get to a new city?

After leaving my friend Ben in Omaha Dan, Conner, and I beelined our way down highway 80 that cuts right across Nebraska cornfields, heading for Chicago.  Each state map in our 1990-era Walmart atlas is not drawn to scale and we sometimes forget that detail when we're guessing how much time it will take us to get from point A to point B.  It's that minor fact that should explain why we were halfway into Chicago before we realized that we had no idea where we were going or who we were staying with.

So we pulled off and drove around looking for a coffee shop--any coffee shop--but to no avail.  There are simply no cafes to be found south of downtown.  And another thing, we're used to getting looks as we drive through a new place--and for the most part we like the attention--but man, the looks we were getting on the south side of Chicago, they were tough.  No waves; no smiles; none of the usual reactions--just pure stare down.

Later on when we talked to Chicago folk, we were told that south Chicago was dangerous with a capital D and that we were lucky Breathless didn't break down because she most likely would have been striped down before we even blinked an eye.

And we just had to start singing Bad, Bad, Leroy Brown...
Photo via Bamboo Trading