End Road Work, Now!  Driving to and fro across this country, Anne has seen more than her fair share of roadwork this summer.  A seemingly never ending parade of orange construction signs have greeted her no matter where she has journeyed.  Always last in line at any worksite is the welcomed sign announcing, End Road Work.  But what if these signs are not being placed there simply to announce the terminus of one roadwork site before the commencement of the next?  What if they are actually the result of some guerrilla movement whose goal it is to fight the proliferation of summer roadwork?  What if this movement is responsible for the secret addition of these End Road Work signs?  Cleverly disguising them in bright orange, with black lettering, this guerrilla movement adds their protest signs to the cacophony of signage thst is already there.  In the dead of night, they add their protest signs.  Their eventual goal being to End Road Work, Now!

Saturday morning we left the Cabin and journeyed south.  Our mode of conveyance (as per usual) was our small, but trusty Toyota Corolla.  Our route was Interstate 75, also known as the SUV Speedway.  I-75 begins at the Canadian border and runs south to the Ohio state line.  I hear that it continues further south than that, but as far as I can tell that is only a rumor.  This twin ribbon of asphalt and concrete unwinds through the north woods of Michigan’s upper peninsula, crosses the straits and then dives south into the pulsing heart of Motor City.  Yes dear friends, Detroit still has a pulse.  Somewhere south of the bridge a variety of motorist known as Michigandus Ignoramus (MI for short) appears on the roadway.  These MI drivers interpret the rules of the road differently then the way I was taught to drive.  The 70 MPH speed limit is viewed as only a minimum speed limit and God forbid that you should dare to use the left-hand lane.  On occasion, in our southbound drive, I would come up upon another vehicle in the right-hand lane, probably another out-of-state driver.  Checking carefully that no one else was near, I would move into the passing lane.  In an instant a big-ass SUV was in my rearview mirror and it was approaching at an alarming rate of speed.  Inches from our rear-end it would slow and sit there on our ass, but only for an instant.  In a flash it whips around our right-hand side and then proceeds to pass both us and the other vehicle we were attempting to pass, which by this point was only a half car length away.  Surely (surly?) I exaggerate, you say.  I say drive it yourself and find out and don’t call me Shirley anymore.

Saturday night we crash landed on the Planet Ann Arbor.  We had dinner at the Landfill with Kayak Women and The Master of the Universe (TMOTU).  Mouse joined us for dinner, but too soon departed afterwards.  This left us old bags to ourselves.  We proceeded to spend the rest of the evening solving all of the world’s problems.  We’re back home in Saint Louis now.  Summer vacation is over.  Work for me on Monday morning is assured.  Work for Anne is only a phone call away.  It has been a good summer this year, in no small part because a sizeable portion of it was spent outside of Saint Louis.  Saint Louis’ summer weather is best “enjoyed” only in brief intervals and with the frequent application of large amounts of air conditioning.  It is still August, so it is still summer in Saint Louis, but we are back home again.  Even so, Anne might have just one more road trip in her.