It’s been a perfect morning for riding. Well, maybe a northwest wind instead of a southeast wind would have been nice, but it wasn’t too strong. It was cool but not cold and mostly sunny. Traffic was minimal in both directions, especially behind me, and the road was nice and smooth, with just enough turns to keep from getting boring.
I stopped at a roadside park that just happened to be the northern border of the lands ceded by the Chippewa to the white men in 1807, marked by a big white rock in the Lake. Not that this border lasted long, of course. It was sacred to the natives, who warned the white people not to have a square dance on it… Before it was struck by lightning, killing them. The Air Force used it for target practice during WWII; I guess the gods are gone.
I’ve stopped in Port Sanilac for gas (nearly 100 miles since last fill-up) and lunch, at Mary’s Diner. How can you go wrong with a name like that? They proudly displayed a column from the Detroit Free Press that declared it one of the writer’s two favorite restaurants in US. Although I think this means the writer needs to get out more, I was satisfied with my crispy chicken ranch sandwich b
