More scraping and mowing and another trip digression--Wichita to Kansas City...

Thursday afternoon--clouding over--after many hours of scraping yesterday, I seem to be taking the day off, letting my tired hands heal.

Phil from Fish and Game knocked on the door to report that he had cut a path all the way to Hicks Avenue--so there will be some fine (if mosquito abundant) walking in the very near future.  He then most kindly offered to mow the field in front of the house with that immense brush bull so all is looking very well-manicured indeed.

Sam will be returning this evening from NYC, Logan and Gabrielle might be dropping by soon, and tomorrow George and Karl are scheduled to show up around 8am to discuss plumbing plans...so the mode of the moment is waiting.

Instead of plowing ahead, I'll continue my backward journey and see if I can take this moment to continue my over-due and truncated  account of the final days of this most recent trip east.

I left Wichita as scheduled.  I was aiming to get to Cleveland about  late afternoon on Thursday.  I was about 17 hours away (according to Google which is never far off).  This meant I wanted to drive as far as possible on Wednesday.  Alas, in my enthusiasm, or distraction, or whatever, I made my first major travel error and  missed the turn-off to Emporia.  It took me a while to realize this.  I compulsively check my distances--and instead of getting closer to Cleveland--I was getting further away.  Instead of doing the hypotenuse of the triangle--I was set on a path to do the two legs--heading towards Salina--oh dear.  I was adding, rather than subtracting hours from my journey.  That was not good.

Hoping to turn disaster into adventure,  I left the highway with the hope of driving due east in the hope of hooking up with the road I'd missed.  Bad idea.  The road got narrower and narrow, soon turned to dirt--and there was no recourse but to re-trace my steps.

So--back to heading due north to Salina--then east through Topeka and on through Kansas City.  Given the grand distances I was traversing and the early hour of my departure, this wasn't an enormous set-back, but I did worry about too late an arrival in Cleveland.  Despite my worries, it was not much after 2pm when I found myself on Route 70 driving through Kansas City.  Pleased that I was ahead of rush hour, I was busy calculating how far I might drive that day, when I noted, out of the corner of my eye (is this a correct memory?) a small sign for Arthur Bryant's bar-b-que.

Years ago, Calvin Trillin had convinced me that this was one site of American nirvana, but in previous trips, influenced by endless internet chatter on the merits of all K.C. meateries, and the inevitable decline of Arthur Bryant's since Mr. Bryant's passing, I had decided not to make the detour (when I follow the proper route, I bypass downtown).  Instead, I lunched in a suburban branch of highly rated Jack Stack--the food was great--I got some huge sampler platter which provided plenty of left-overs for dinner that night--but it was a far cry from whatever I thought I'd expected.  I had been happier in fact at Hog Wild, a less heralded (as far as I know) barbecue in Wichita that Tom took me to.

But that was years ago.  Now, spotting this Freeway sign, despite my vow to drive great distances,  I couldn't resist taking the exit (in fact, I missed the exit--but successfully navigated the next one just a few blocks on), and within minutes found myself at the original Arthur Bryant's on Brooklyn Avenue.


Oh--no time to finish now--I was hoping to make this my last trip installment, but that will have to wait a bit.  I am trying to be relaxed about abandoning my strict chronology (time was I would have back-dated and buried this--but have now shifted to more accurately reflect the time-shifting patterns of my skittish brain.  So...all will soon be continued--I hope.