Highway 6 2021

Day 04

June 24

  Today at least breakfast should be sorted as I plan on stopping at the Wellsboro Diner that Highway 6 goes right by. Hopefully some friends will meet me there but time will tell. So for now it's back to the chase of Highway 6 as I make my way out of Scranton.  
  As I am out early, I do not see much morning traffic as I pass through the small towns and villages.  
  These clouds look like they are laying on the hillsides like an old comfortable quilt lays on a bed. I remember when I was a kid going up to my great grandparent's house in the one of those Tennessee hollers. They had featherbeds covered with handmade quilts. Nothing like burrowing down in a featherbed with a good quilt over you listening to the rain on the old tin roof, sheltered from all the world and its problems.  
  Soon I'm back out on the open road which is more to my liking. Knowing that I am headed right through the middle of Cleveland this evening, I try to soak up as much fresh air as I can for as long as I can.  
  In my many rides through Pennsylvania, I've often thought how much it looks like the eastern part of Tennessee. This could be a picture of Tennessee and most folks would not know that it wasn't.  
  Pennsylvania is blessed with many notable rivers and here I see a pretty riverside town and some thoughtfully planted pretty flowers ...  
  and not so pretty traffic as I get into town.  
  As I pass through the town of Towanda, I am fascinated by this interesting old building I come across and wonder what was its original purpose.  
  And somewhere along the way through any older towns they will always be interesting old houses like this one. I can tell you from the roofing side of things that shingling a turret like that is a real work of art to get it to come out symmetrical.  
  Once I'm back out into the country, I have to admire the farms with well kept barns. Where I grew up, they were usually just ramshackle affairs somewhere between disrepair and collapse since they were usually leaning on a hillside.  
  Every now and then I come across some nice sweepers as Highway 6 makes its convoluted way across the country.  
  I arrive at the Wellsboro Diner about the time that I said I would but it is a bit of a challenge to find parking nearby.  
  This place is the real deal as it was constructed to be a traditional diner and they have kept it that way. They were often constructed to look like railcars since the original ones were railcars and often called 'lunch cars'. Most were preconstructed at factory sites and then moved to their locations, much like mobile homes are today.  
  And the food is also the 'real' deal, since I am very familiar with the proper preparation of hen fruit and pig meat. Unfortunately, no one shows up that I was expecting but it does not stop me from enjoying a wonderful breakfast.  
  But given where I need to be before dark, I can't tarry too long. As I get back to it, I pass another well kept farm nestled at the foot of the hills ...  
  and a not so well kept old meeting house. My hunch is this used to be an old school house that has seen better days. It's much like our public education system that seems to focus on indoctrination to think a certain 'way' instead of educating young people to think on their own.  
  Highway 6, like I saw on my Highway 50 ride, is also the 'Main' Street of many small towns that I pass through.  
  And sometimes it turns into a really nice tree-lined avenue as well.  
  This small town must have pretty deep Swedish roots as it proudly boasts on a banner of their 'Swedish Festival'.  
  But then I'm back out into the country, enjoying the lovely free and open spaces.  
  Knowing the problem they've had out west (to the point they changed the highway number from 666 to something else), I am surprised this sign is still there. Folks may relish having the sign, but I doubt they will relish the reality when the 666 stuff happens.  
  Back home, the barns are usually painted red with a sign about visiting Rock City in Chattanooga. From what I understand, a feller went around and offered to paint the old barns for free if he could put the Rock City sign on them as part of the deal. I guess around here Mail Pouch Tobacco was the thing instead since Rock City is far piece from here.  
  It rejoices my heart and spirit when I pass through small towns and I see numerous USA flags flying. This is the real America not the watered down, twisted version the media would put forth to the world.  
  I usually don't eat anything much in the middle of the day when I'm on a long ride, but my boat is dragging bottom. At this gas stop there is a Subway, so I get my usual steak and cheddar foot long and SweetTreat serves as my dinner table.  
  I get amused at highway signal sometimes like this. How can a road go west and south at the same time?  
  As I wander through one small town it looks like a litter bug was on the loose til I get a closer look. I reckon one man's art is another man's trash heap and after all - nothing is too good for the taxpayer.  
  But to me real art is seeing the Flag flown proudly along the streets of this country.  
  Soon I leave the fair state of Pennsylvania and cross over into Ohio.  
  But I'm still in farm country and for that I am thankful as I know I'll be wishing I was back here toward the end of the day.  
  The signs for Highway 6 are of sorted variety. There's the 'regular' US 6 sign, the 'historical' 6 sign and the 'Grand Army Of The Republic' 6 sign. Sometimes they are together ...  
  sometimes they are not ...  
  and sometimes they are different.  
  If a big city has a dirty, smelly 'armpit', Highway 6 seems to go right through the middle of it. I find myself in some less than pleasant areas as I work my way through Cleveland.  
  I even get to go right through the town square of Cleveland and I didn't even know they had one.  
  But then it takes me out through the high rent district on the shores of Lake Erie.  

I am mighty glad to see this sign as this segment of the trip did have me concerned for some of the inner city areas I would be riding through. When I check in, one of the folks asks me how I came. When I tell him Highway 6, he says -

"Oh man, that was right through the worst rioting area to be sure."

I tell him what I am doing and he is pretty amazed that I would do it on a motorcycle.

  When I ask about parking, he walks over and shows me a place that I can park my bike right in front of my room door though there is not a 'parking' space. I thank him very much and I do really appreciate his care and concern.  
  He tells me that there are several restaurants in short walking distance to the left of the motel. So after I get things pitched, I light out in the suggested direction. I've never eaten at a Carrabba's so I figure I'll give it a whirl and see what it's like.  
  They have a ribeye on their menu which works for me since I am not a big pasta fan. When I was raised up, my daddy said it weren't no meal if you didn't have some meat. And I reckon I'm of the same persuasion. But I do like salad as long is there's some meat acoming.  
  When the steak and mashed taters show up, I dig in. I have to say it is one of the best ribeyes I have ever got at a restaurant. And trust me - I've eaten a lot ribeyes in a lot of restaurants.  
  And what better way to finish off an excellent meal than with a little bit of sweetening on the chocolate side - did I tell you that I really like chocolate?  
  With enough meat and chocolate - my two favorite food groups - in the old storage facility to last a bit, I head back to my room to check my eyelids for any holes that might have occurred on the ride today. I am happy to report that there are none after a thorough and long perusal - or at least none that I saw for the few minutes I was awake.