Another map update. Follow along! (Gap across NY and PA was necessary “auto assist.”
View http://batchgeo.com/map/e45026d31ae071f647b69c10e01a7bcf”>The Amazing Race for Alheimer’s
in a full screen map
Where’s Judy?
The Maples Motel – Honoring Generations
Huron, Ohio – West of Huron, Ohio on busy Route 6 is a flashback to the 1960s.
The Maples Motel is a fourth-generation operation run by Joan Faber and her
family.
“I haven’t taken a paycheck in 35 years,” said Joan as we stood in the square back room of her house that does double duty as the motel office
The brown paneled walls are covered with old black-and-white photos and framed magazine articles written about the homey facility.
“The cabins are $49 to $61 a night,” Joan said. “I run it in memory of the woman who started the place – and I don’t raise the rates.”
Joan holds a photo of the motel from its earlier years when the Maple trees were small, there was no pool and there were mats in front of the screen doors for people to wipe their feet.
“There’s a 1957 Ford parked in the lot in this photo,” said Joan. “Back then we were open year round, we had TV but not in color.”
“Met my husband Ken at the University of Detroit. We had four kids when his mom died and he asked me if I’d like to go to Ohio and we’d run the motel.
“With four little ones,” said Joan, her voice rising in pitch. “I was a natural,” she said confidentially “And I loved it.”
Nothin’ could be finer….than Whiteys Diner
Fremont, OH – You can always tell the popular hometown restaurant by the number of cars parked outside. In Fremont, Ohio, Whiteys Diner was the place.
Full chair rail at the counter also was a good sign. “Sit anywhere you want, Hun,” waitress Cheryl said.
“Cheryl, I’d be mad at you if somebody pulled me off my chair and onto the floor,” said Charlie, one of the regulars.
“Correction,” yelled Cheryl. “Sit anywhere but Charlie’s seat.”
I got a stool at the counter in front of the humming glass refrigerator that was full of plates of raw red meatballs, a mountain of strips of bacon and bricks of yellow butter.
“A customer gave us that,” said Billy, the cook, handing me a box of Obama Waffles.
 |
| Billy and “Obama Waffles” |
Billy worked the grill that spit hot butter and grease in spots not covered with eggs over easy or hash browns. His father, Mark, owned the business for the past 33 years.
“I’ve been coming here since I was 4 years old,” said Charlie. “I remember when this place used to be open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I really liked that.”
“You better be careful Charlie,” said Cheryl, racing by with three waters and a coffee pot.
“I’d be eating dinner here if they were open,” said Charlie. “It’s not the cookin’ I mind so much, it’s the cleaning up.”
Burnin’ Billy, as someone called him, is cooking up a storm on the grill as Charlie talks about his service during WWII.
 |
| Burnin’ Billy |
“I was 19 years, okay, and thought I volunteered – until three guys came and hauled me away.”
Charlie was a gunner in the Army. Stationed in Germany, he said he was captured and spent eight months in a German prison camp
“Lost 100 pounds,” he said. “We were supposed to get a weekly package from the Red Cross with meat. We were lucky if we got one a month.”
Charlie said the Germans were cold and hungry, too. Eventually rescued by the Russians, Charlie went with the rest of his unit to Camp Lucky Strike and eventually returned home before his 20th birthday.
More customers come into the diner. Everybody is greeted by name. The place is warm with body heat.
Conversation is about LeBron James returning to the Cavaliers. The consensus at the diner is… it’ll be good for the team and the city
As I scoot out to give someone else a chance at breakfast, I glance at the sign above the grill….. ‘Nothin’ could be finer than to be at Whiteys Diner in the morning.’
Riding in Tribute to…..
 |
| GENE WENDELBORN NOTE: Want to pay tribute to your loved one?
I’ll ride a day in their honor (includes mention on blog). Click HERE to learn more.
|
Got my Ohio plate….
Got my Ohio plate from Norcross Automotive in Sandusky, Ohio. There was a dude there, let’s call him Tyrell. He was waiting for his car.
“Where you bike from,” he said. I told him Halifax, Nova Scotia.
“Where’s that,” he asked. “Canada,” I said politely.
Tyrell had what looked like a black pantyhose tight on the top of his head. He had black sweatpants and was sweating through his white t-shirt. He was nice enough… But inquisitive.
“How old are you?” I said I was 50 and he let’s go with “Girl, I’m 54 and I don’t even take my bike round the corner. You crazy,” he said, smiling.
Then he reached out his hand to wish me good luck and he did this three-grip
shake with an explosion at the end. I obviously got it wrong. He said, “That’s alright,” and just laughed.
I reached in my back pocket to give him a card to follow along. The cards are in a plastic Baggie and all of a sudden he step back and says, “I don’t want no weed.”
I’m going to move along now.
Vermillion, OH and Big Ed’s
Already making good mileage today. Stopped in Vermillion, OH to mail some post cards and saw Big Ed’s Soda Fountain on Main Street. It’s in a building that used to be the old dry goods store and dates to 1872.
Has the old soda fountain and old booths lining the wall with Collectibles on the shelf above including a pair of saddle shoes, the cymbal playing wind up circus monkey and a Dixie Belle ice cream freezer.
On the window there’s advertising for phosphates, egg cremes, and tin roofs.
That’s as much as I can see through the window. The store is closed and doesn’t open for two more hours and I have to move along.
Vermillion seems like a nice little Norman Rockwell town.
Weekly Radio Update; Listen to AUDIO
Did weekly update interview on The Amazing Ride for Alzheimer’s with WBKV 1470’s Morning Show with host Bob Bonenfant.
Discussed Cleveland news, LeBron James, Rock ‘n Roll Museum, Elvis, Johnny Cash, minor bike breakdown and laughing with the nuns!
Click HERE to listen to the podcast!
Riding in Tribute to –
BETTY CHRISTEN
NOTE: Want to pay tribute to your loved one?
I’ll ride a day in their honor (includes mention on blog). Click HERE to learn more.
My Ohio “Sisters”
Avon Lake, Ohio – Met some great people today while pedaling out of Cleveland.
ABOVE: James Rychak from BlazingSaddle Cycle on Detroit Street – The bike store is three years new to the location, prior to that it was a hardware store for about 30+ years.
BELOW: Met Kiern as I pedaled out do downtown Cleveland. He hadn’t been on his bike for a while. “I’ve got to do something, my knees are a wreck and I can’t play soccer anymore,” he said.
BELOW: Met Kiern as I pedaled out do downtown Cleveland. He hadn’t been on his bike for a while. “I’ve got to do something, my knees are a wreck and I can’t play soccer anymore,” he said.
 |
| Born in England, moved to U.S. at age 14. Said it was a tough time. |
UPDATE:
Decided to expand on this story upon popular request….
Avon Lake – Holy Spirit Catholic Church opened its door to me and two nuns
adopted me, taking me out to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. The evening was hilarious.
Sister Pat was forward, had a good sense of humor, and candid for someone in the religious field as she talked about having to go out of town if they wanted to go swimming because the kids from the parish would say, “We saw Sister in her swimming suit!”
Sister Connie quietly agreed saying nuns in swimsuits wasn’t a message their church was trying to send.
Both women had been at Holy Spirit Church for nearly 20 years. They said their numbers, of girls who wanted to go into a convent lifestyle, were shrinking in the states.
“Too much electronics,” said Sister Pat crunching a nacho chip.
“Africa and India,” said Sister Connie “that’s where our numbers are soaring…. but it’s a way out of poverty for those girls.”
Sister Connie then laid down some harsh reality. “When those young girls leave the church to go home and visit their families, their parents try to make them work and often push them into prostitution. So when they come back they all take a pregnancy test and if they’re positive, pfft!,” said Sister Connie throwing her thumb over her shoulder. “They’re out.”
The waitress returns with our food and says something in Spanish; that sparks another story.
“Tell her about the time it was double-bubble night here,” said Sister Pat.
Sister Connie was being picked on, but apparently she was the fall guy in a lot of Sister Pat’s stories.
Sister Pat then jumps right into the story about two-for-one margaritas and how the waitress came around and said “uno mas.” “So Sister, who doesn’t understand Spanish, repeats ‘uno mas’ thinking she’s saying ‘one bill’ and they bring us two more drinks.”
Sister Pat shakes her head at the ridiculous memory and downs another chip.
“Sisters whooping it up with margaritas in public is not the message the church wants to send either,” said Sister Connie as two parents pass by the table and then stop to talk, having recognized the women who work with their children.