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Greetings from Wapakoneta, OH

This king-size bed is enormous. I could sleep in any direction: West to East, North to South, or even Southwest to Northeast.

I put in my 477 miles today, a non-eventful drive, thankfully. I did the math: 64% of the drive has been driven, meaning tomorrow's drive will much shorter than today's. The temperature hovered at around 90 degrees all day long. The low was 66, as I drove through a rainstorm in Carolina, but it was up to 90 by the time I got to Knoxville.

I really enjoyed the brilliant orange sunset here in the middle of Ohio, the color more or less that of the Dutch football uniform. We live in a valley in the mountains, so I'm no longer accustomed to seeing sunsets.

The highlight of a long drive by yourself is listening to the radio. Granted, the corporate radio dial is pretty desolate; I get the feeling that it's all strictly formatted, coast to coast, and often there seems to be no local at the board doing the show. It's Ryan Freaking Seacrest in syndication. But on the left end of the dial there is some interesting stuff. In northern Kentucky I found old big band music ... NICE! It was WOBO, coming out of Batavia, Ohio. Like WFMU, WOBO is supported solely through listener donations. The DJs are volunteers. For me this makes for more compelling radio, even if the announcers have quirks typical of radio amateurs. I should know! My sin is speaking softly. I enjoyed the big band show, even though the dude cut off a couple tunes right in the middle, and had a funny way of talking... For some reason we amateurs have a hard time speaking in our normal voices when we get behind the mike.

So I had the swing coming out of the speakers as the magnificent skyline of Cincinnati came into view.

When I lost the signal, I hardly had to move at all up the dial before finding WYSO out of Dayton's Antioch University. Even though it's an NPR affiliate, the music funky and edgy. They were doing a fund-raiser, but interspersed between the begging for dollars was some good stuff: Afropop, Brazilian surf guitar, old Isley Brothers joints, Indian banda bangra, with the horns blaring.

I have my bike in the car, along with almost all of my LPs. I've decided to trade them to my brother for a hollow-body electric guitar. It was sort of sad going through the records last night ... a lot of good memories in that vinyl. But it's probably been three years since I last put a disc on the turntable, since I've spun a platter.
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May 2019



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