Camping in Hartville. Yes, I am camped in the town square.
Sometimes the route map indicates where it's okay to camp.
Sometimes I ask at the town hall. This is the third or fourth
time I have ended up in the very middle of town.
I don't mind terribly but it takes a bit of getting used to. Everyone who passes stares -- some more discreetly than others. And taking a pee in the middle of everything, even at 3 AM, is a bit weird.
Unfortunately, in this part of the country everyone has a
pickup, every pickup has a roar, and every trip takes place in
twenty yard explosions with squealing tires. Curiously, during
the pauses tonight I one heard rap music.
I stopped to chat with the roarers and squealers who were hanging
out on in front of the courthouse. They were unnaturally
diffident. If I understood them correctly Hartville recently won a
baseball championship. By ten o'clock, they had blasted off for someplace else.
