John and I split. He heads for the Montreal ski fields in Quebec, and I head south for New York.
Mark and I ride over the Mackinac Bridge for a $2.50 toll, into Michigan, United States. It’s quite a bridge—one of the seven man-made wonders of the world.
What a temperature change! It’s now so warm, I’m peeling off layers of clothes. We camp out; Mark has a tent and I use my groundsheet under the stars.
I have a contact in Batavia, on the west side of Chicago. It’s Usha, the sister of Francisco Bali, the motorcyclist from Buenos Aires. It’s an interesting ride there, and a great family. She’s married to a University of Chicago professor. She’s also about to have a baby, and so can only entertain us for one night.
We head back to Michigan to Ann Arbor to catch up with Dave Sutton, a Peace Corps worker from Tumbes, Peru. We up our speed from 60-65 to 75-80 mph, and we eventually get to Dave’s farm after dark. Dave isn’t there, but we set up camp anyway. We doze off until he comes home. He’s been out on the town, this being Saturday night.
This is a university town, full of students. One bar we enjoyed, Floods, is fitted out with antiques, sawdust and peanut shells on the floor, and live music by bluegrass band and fiddlers—great! We spend a full week here.