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False Alarm

RRRBeagle Man puts the crate in the back of the Acura, same as always.  And my blue denim bed.  And my teddy bear.  The cooler.  All the standard stuff.  Mrs. B-Man takes shotgun, so I’m stuck in the backseat.  Now this is a new twist, but I’ll roll with it — for now.  We start off on I-95, heading south.  Check.  Just like we did for LA/XC-1.  And LA/XC-2.  We pass through Philly . . . and Baltimore . . . and D.C.  We reach what seems to be our first overnight, Charlottesville, VA, well after dark.  Typical.  We’ve only traveled 392 miles — not a big day at all by LA/XC standards.  I guess we’re easing into it.  But we


Me in the Cavalier Inn: The newspaper always puts me to sleep

stay in C-ville the whole next day, visiting with Jeff & Joan and walking around the U. Va. campus.  And then B-Man gets me a baby-sitter and they all go out for a concert.  And then we stay over for a second night.  This is definitely not by the book.  We never stay anywhere for two nights.  By noon the next day, though, we’re in the Acura, and I figure we’re back on track.  But instead of heading west, we go north on 29, and then east on 66, and then north on 95.  We’ve turned around, and we’re heading home! What happened to L.A.?  What happened to visiting Robby?  What’s going on here?  All right, now I’m officially confused . . .

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) appears on Mondays, usually.  It’s about politics, travel, food . . . important stuff like that.

Ricky the Beagle