Ah, Berlioz.

The Symphonie Fantastique is one of those works that, even after hearing it dozens of times over the past 40 years, still gives me head to toe goosebumps. It was written only 6 years after Beethoven’s 9^th, but it sounds so different, more like it was written 50 years later. I heard it performed by the Houston Symphony last season, and it was spectacular. But on the drive today from Fries, VA to Columbia, SC I listened to pretty much the whole thing on Sirius XM.

This version, especially the first 2 or 3 movements, was markedly slower than any other performance I’ve ever heard. Oftentimes I listen to a song performed at a slower tempo than normal and it just falls apart like a one-egg puddin’. Some songs, especially those with lyrics, have a certain “right” tempo and performers that try to get too artistic just blow it completely. And so it can be with classical pieces that have been heard many times within a certain range of tempos. I started to get that feeling at first with this performance. However, the more I listened the more I realized that the slower tempo was really adding drama to the accented syncopation that is the hallmark and driving force of the piece. Plus, the slower tempo highlighted certain instruments that I had never really heard before. All told, I’m sure there were drivers on I-77 that thought me a lunatic as I conducted the piece while driving down the road, but fie upon ‘em! The goosebumps were there.

So tonight (Friday) I’m shacking up in another Cracker Barrel parking lot. This works out pretty well, at least so far. Since it requires keeping a low profile (no unhooking from the Big ‘Un, no slideouts, no electrical hookup) it makes for a quiet evening: reading, blogging, that sort of thing. And a big boy shot of Balvenie.

Leave it to Cracker Barrel to provide food for thought. This sign seen tonight:

Do any retailers still give out stamps? I remember collecting them and pasting them in the little books as a kid, then redeeming them for pretty neat stuff. Have they gone the way of the buggy whip?

Headin’ South; Observations

After a couple of days in Ithaca, including some good dinners with Rachael and Brian, a trip to the Chevy dealer for routine maintenance on Big ‘Un and a haircut (finally – between Keene, NH and Ithaca NY I was 0 for 6 trying to get a walk-in haircut) I headed south on Saturday, retracing much of my original route through Corning, NY, Williamsport, PA, etc. Actually, the most colorful foliage yet was between Watkins Glen and Corning. It was overcast all day and drizzly most of it, but the leg terminated safely at a Cracker Barrel in Winchester, VA in the northwest corner of VA. In the stretch of about 30 miles you hit 4 states: PA, WV, MD and VA.

Cracker Barrel is one of those places that sometimes permit RVs to park overnight. This is the first time I’ve done it and it worked out OK once I got the rig parked. Then an early supper in Cracker Barrel and time to hole up in the rig. The etiquette when using a freebie parking lot is to not act like your staying: don’t unhook the trailer from the truck, don’t use the slideouts, don’t make noise by running the A/C, etc. Fortunately it was cool enough the A/C wasn’t needed. It is a bit cramped inside with the slide outs not extended, but I did some reading, fell asleep on the couch then went to bed. It makes for an easy getaway in the morning, after a Cracker Barrel breakfast, of course.

While in New England there were a couple of road signs that had me scratching the old coconut. As I was driving into Fryeburg, ME the welcoming sign sign proclaimed proudly that it was the oldest town in Oxford County. That’s worth a sign? Think the marketing department worked overtime on that one? This was on a Monday morning and there was quite a traffic jam on both roads into town. I stopped in at the Maine visitor center (this place is right on the border to NH) and asked about the traffic jam. Turns out it was in the midst of the weeklong Fryeburg Fair and that morning was the lumberjack competition. But for the traffic I might have stuck around and checked that out, but I was off to the White Mountains.

Here’s another sign: a diamond shape yellow caution sign with the words “thickly populated”. Huh? Why not “heavily populated”, or “beware of folks” or a picture like a deer crossing sign with people leaping over the road? Thickly populated. Is it any wonder about our natural human concern for our Yankee brethren? Bless their hearts.

Is Florida known for fried chicken? In Pennsylvania there was a sign touting a joint serving “Florida Fryed Chicken”. Now Florida is known for many things, bad spelling perhaps being near the top of the list, but fried chicken? Never heard of it.

Passing from PA into MD brought a moment of unexpected bliss. No later than 1 minute after crossing the Mason-Dixon Line I saw a sign for Waffle House. There followed a feeling of such calm and serenity, enough to bring repose to the most tortured soul. There’s no place like home no matter how broadly defined.

Granted, most of my travel recently has been in rural areas. But I gotta say, the Trump signs WAY outnumber the Hillary signs.

Today’s drive brought me to Fries, VA. It was a beautiful day and most of the drive was on I-81, then I-77. Good bit of traffic, and one thing I noticed is that the state rest stops were all very crowded, especially with big trucks. Maybe they stop more often these days to answer texts and emails? The last few miles were a bit hairy, though: winding narrow roads, as Fries (pronounced like freeze) is one of those places you can’t get to unless you’re going there. It’s just a few miles north of the NC border and not far from TN either. It’s  small RV park snug up against a babbling brook.

Close observation will reveal a few leaves retreating before autumn’s onslaught:

Serenity abounds, one might say, buttressed by this long-awaited sight today, after wandering helplessly for weeks in the Dunkin’ Donuts wilderness: