“We’re Not Gonna Make It…”

We’re live at Our hi-jinx will be (roughly) recounted and hopefully you’ll get a (clean) image of what’s going on here.

We begin our journey by driving due north from the Green House in South Bend. We’re driving for a ways when Jesse and Aaron decide it’s time for some food, so we GPS the nearest place and in our attempt to wade through the McDonalds and Burger Kings of the world we see “Sidetrack Bar and Grill.” Now you would think that the “Sidetrack” might not be the most convenient place to go eat, per se, but at this point collective hunger reigns and after the previous night of Taco Bell owning my stomach, Sidetrack it is.

We’re 10 miles off the highway and we still haven’t reached our destination but we’re definitely the residential area of the farmland boonies. At this point I believe we’re in a suburb of Muskegon, Michigan, so yeah, it’s a little Deliverance-esque. We roll up to the “restaurant” (actually a gutted house with a “patio” that’s the backyard) and go in. The only three people in the restaurant laugh aloud and say “You’re not from here, are you?” and we take a seat. There’s Poison on the jukebox, Jean Claude Van Damme (and not even Bloodsport, some other random one that starts with a semi-pornographic introduction and I think ultimately had to do with child slavery?) and when Jesse asks “Do many people come here from the highway?” the waitress looks at him like he’s crazy. He might be, but that’s not going to help us here.

We pay our bill, take a photo and it’s time to roll out. We wade through crazy storms and a system of registration that’s running like a well-baked machine and finally pull up to our campsite. Tuckered out from the excitement of unloading books and setting up tents in the rain we crash like a plane out of fuel. Rothbury has officially begun.

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