Around noon I finally give up on today's chores (pay fine, fix phone, get money back from overbooked hotel, etc.), and then it's north towards Motor City. Again the Hindu god Vayu helps me with a generous tail wind, so I can stay at the freeway's posted 55 mph minimum speed limit, without having to chase trucks again.
The MZ's plush suspension really comes into its right here, because this stretch is only marginally better than the East German roads it was designed for. The cracks between the slow lane and the concrete slabs of the shoulder has holes deep, wide and long enough to make it certain I'll crash, should I be forced out there.
Once inside Detroit city limits, watching an industrial hellscape from the elevated road, I also notice several beat-up cars to match the roadway. Of course I've seen similar cars in the prairie states, but those were used as flowerbeds. Yeah, I know it probably isn't fair to mention only this about the great city of Detroit, but it really was all I saw.
Riding across the impressive Ambassador Bridge, I enter Canada and a customs officer (James Roper Caldbeck, I found your separated-at-birth identical twin) who at first doesn't believe my MZ can be road legal here. Eventually, satisfied that at least I don't pack heat ("But I'm Danish! We don't do that sort of stuff!"), I'm let in. For the third time in as many days, by pure luck I happen to sit indoors eating when the rains appear, and call from this dry comfort a fellow Nimbus owner in Kingsville, just an hour south of there.
Could be somebody died here, by driving into the deep ditch behind the crosses. Cool butterflies, though...
Right off Dan Stomp (great last name) offers me a place to stay for tonight, and soon I'm at his property of vacation houses, being shown around. His & wife Irene's own house is right on Lake Erie, and during Prohibition it was used by bandits smuggling booze across the waters and into the US. Aside from probably having been used as a brothel as well, the house has interesting details like small electric switches, that showed when doors were being opened.
Friend Sasha and Dan, and one of several dogs, on the terrace of his & Irene's house. This is Canada's southernmost point, and Dan refers to it as 'the Florida of Canada'.
His sidecar equipped Nimbus gets used every so often.
The sign outside a supermarket is quite different from the ones I saw in the US, where it was military veterans who got reserved parking spaces near the entrance.
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