The spread of the coronavirus and COVID-19 gained steam at the same time my move to Nashville was accelerating. Unless you need to make weight for a wrestling meet that is going to be canceled, I wouldn't recommend pairing the two. I lost somewhere between seven and 10 pounds due to the combination of constant motion and rationing what I had in the fridge and pantry to minimize trips out.
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I started Sunday in Schenectady, from which I drove through Utica, Syracuse, Rochester, Buffalo and Cleveland, stopping halfway to Columbus. The next morning, I picked up Columbus, Cincinnati and Louisville, after finally arriving in Nashville earlier than I thought. Not because I made great time, but I often forget Nashville is Central, and it's strange to gain an hour while driving south. Assuming games start again, it'll be nice to stop subtracting an hour for all time-related posts.
That said, I did cover the distance at a pretty good pace while trading a rust belt for a bible one. Driving long distances is one of the few productive things to do right now if you have to do it, assuming you're not inconveniencing people along the way. It's mostly trucks, and even then there aren't nearly as many as I've seen on other stretches of road. It's the service plazas that feel most dystopian, with most areas shuttered or cordoned off, leaving one clerk in the convenience store and that's about it.
The state of New York is obviously taking it seriously, with directives to "STAY HOME" on every electronic road sign on the Thruway. Ohio's shelter-in-place order wasn't going to take effect until Monday, but its highways looked largely similar to I-90 thanks to its strong central messaging. The Meijer was a figurative and literal night-and-day difference when I drove by it Monday morning versus Sunday evening.
The tone loosened driving south. Once through Cincinnati and into Kentucky, the boards merely nudged people to help stop the spread of COVID-19, saying in hashtag form that "we're all in this together." I assume every state is going to have to resort to commands at some point.
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Driving out of Mansfield, Ohio, on Sunday morning, I saw a sign that could beat Hemingway, or whoever actually came up with the saddest story in six words.
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Among the radical rebrandings of minor-league and independent teams, I thought the Florence (Ky.) Y'alls was kinda fun, but I also didn't get how it was distinguishable from the rest of the region. I saw that those words appeared on a local water tower. Big deal. Then I forgot about it.
And then said water tower appeared before me rounding a corner for myself rounding a corner on I-71, and I changed my mind. It's great.
Atlas Obscura explains the story, and it was $472 well spent.
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I finally got around to digitizing my music collection before packing up my albums, because my car is advanced enough to play music and podcasts through an old iPod, but not nearly enough to play stuff off an Android phone in any convenient, distraction-free way. So, iPod it is.
Which is good, because this Randy Newman song had been off my Spotify radar, and the last verse is a little too on the nose.
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With binge-watching as a survival tool, you'll see people expressing jealousy over the fact that somebody gets to experience a TV series for the first time.
I can't recall a TV series I've completed, so I'm basically living the dream right now. I've either stalled out halfway through for no real reason ("The Good Place"), started late and got to the end but never circled back to the beginning ("Mad Men"), or watched a lot of a show out of order thanks to reruns airing at the usual time I make dinner ("The Office," "Scrubs").
That said, I get the sentiment when it comes to podcasts. On the drive down, I listened to Conan O'Brien's podcast with Andy Daly, and Daly said that he's planning on releasing a follow-up to his one-off "Bonanas for Bonanza" episode on The Andy Daly Podcast Pilot Project.
That's news to celebrate, because I listened to that episode during my bathroom renovation project a couple years ago, and I almost choked on drywall dust from laughing when I didn't expect to.
Perhaps I'll come up with a list of the podcast episodes I wish I could be surprised by again. Now that I once again have a place in which to shelter, perhaps that'll be my contribution to our time-killing endeavor.
