April, 19, 2021 Day 2: Salt Lick, Kentucky -- Mt. Vernon, Illinois

The left side of the road is a beautiful lake; the right side is a very green grassy hill with a dam underneath the road.

The very good barbecue restaurant, the meat, the very creamy milk shake.

We met Carol and Martha who were next to us in the campground. When people are hiking on a trail, they speak of “trail magic.” This is road magic. My first glimpse of them was when Carol was dancing to music in the early morning sunlight at Martha, who was sitting at the picnic table where they had placed a table cloth. We talked about where we came from, what we were doing, where we were going, and watched

a bird feed its chicks in a small nest on a tree.

We drove down a side road to the dam that Carol recommended to us. We drove down the wrong road and ended up at the parking lot at the bottom of the hill separating the lake from the dam. The grass rose up like a wave to where we could just make out the side of the road running along on top. We climbed the wave. That was

lungs pumping, fresh air, and a random man who had come to finish his workout after a 10 mile run, sunglasses and sweat racing us past the hill. The highway was sweating with sunlight and rust on the guardrails. We walked along it. When my dad drove the RV up to pick us up, I clung onto the ladder in the back as he slid down the hill, my own muscles between the rolling asphalt and my skin. When we got to the bottom on the other side of the hill, my mom ran down the hill of rocks. We met people who were fishing thirty-six inch fish with teeth; I don’t remember what type it was anymore but they described them as freshwater barracuda.

We had lunch at a small barbeque place off the road that was recommended by Carol. It blasted the local radio and pimpled waitresses scooted around the tables outside to take our orders under the bright sunlight. My family doesn’t eat at American diners often, because my mom’s palate fits more with Szechuanese cuisine and americanized chinese food is closer than straight-up American. So when even sh

e praised their hoagies and even ordered a second sandwich, that made this little restaurant better than a three-starred Michelin in my book. (I ate deep-fried mushrooms and jalapeno rings because of a lack of vegetarian options). Even chocho, our dog sitting in his stroller, ate nearly an entire sandwich out of our hands.

At the campsite, I juggled clubs in the last rays of sunlight and spotted an old man watching while swirling a glass of wine. He was from Minneapolis, used to work for the Pentagon as a nuclear negotiator, and was on the way south to visit his grandkids. My dad and I stood in a patch of grass in Kentucky discussing the Iran nuclear deal with someone we just met. Later, a man with a Trump 2020 hat came up and

talked to me about my juggling. I realized that this was a good way to meet strangers.

At night, my mother wanted to walk to the Walmart. Instead, we visited the Dollar Tree. Stores have a different feel during a pandemic when you’re in another state. Especially if you needed to sprint across a dark road to get there. I think that walking to stores at night should be a classic family activity, like game nights.

We climbing up to the top of the grass hill.

Did you see the bird nest with the bird mom? It's between our rv and our neighbor's rv.