CROSSVILLE, TN TO PHILADELPHIA, PA
We were up at 6 AM and OTR as fast as possible. We had about 700 miles to drive to get to Philly, check in and get some sleep before the next morning when a full day of press and publicity awaited me.
Sidebar: why does the coffee in hotels provided in those little one-cup knitted baggie things taste like luke warm dirty bath water? I mean, who drinks that? This is why we travel with a tidy little french press and one pound bag of freshly ground French Roast at all times.
We ran Captain Maverick on the grassy area outside the La Quinta Inn, gas up the Tour Truckster and hit the interstate.
|Cheapest gas so far on the Tour|
The next 13 hours are just a boring 75 mile an hour hump. We stopped every 100 miles or so for Captain Maverick to stretch his legs and get his "sniff" on at all the Tennessee, Virginia and PA rest stops - he marked every trash can, tree and curb from Crossville to Philly and I am happy to report that he has certified interstate 40 drug and I.E.D. free. Good boy, Captain Maverick.
Not much else to say, expect that Virginia drivers are, on the whole, pretty good. Here's a pictorial of the 700 mile grind:
Arriving at The Four Seasons I get the Truckster parked right out front (thank you, Lord) and we download and check in. This is Captain Maverick's first time in a 4/5 star hotel and he's impressed. And so is the entire staff, with the Captain I mean. You see a lot of "pocket dogs" in places like this - ya know the ones fashionista types like to carry in thousand dollar hand bags? Yeah, those. Well, they all scatter and crawl deep into their swanky little leather dog houses when the Captain trots in like he owns the place. He goes right up to the front desk and stands up with his front hams on the granite counter. The girl behind the counter jumps back and shouts, "Oh my God!"
I tell her, "Yeah, he gets that a lot. There are dogs... and then there is the German Shepherd Dog."
|Four Seasons, Philly|
We get to the room and the Captain does a bomb sweep. Check. He leaps up on the bed and seems to say, "Ahhhh... now this is niiiiice..." We leave him to his own devices and walk down the street to a hole-in-the-wall Irish Pub for the end of the day beer.
|Navigator Stacey goes with the Stone IPA|
|I go with the Guinness|
|The bartender "drew" a tidy clover on my foamy head|
The bartender sweeps the guinea-pig under the tap and renders a lucky little clover on my beer. I think that's about the coolest thing ever. And a very good omen for tomorrow's pending day of press and publicity.
Back to the room, we find The Captain has showered and thrown on one of the famous fluffy Four Seasons bath robes. He's also apparently learned how to dial a phone and use a credit card - because there's a room service cart next o the bed, on which he is reclining majestically, with the remnants of a filet mignon, truffles and a hot fudge parfait. He's sipping a glass of port. He looks at us staring at him and says, "What? I tipped the guy. Relax."
We hit the sack setting the iPhones to wake us up at 5 AM.
Check back soon.