| 16 August 2006 Strongsville I awake this morning in middle America, where the highway arcs south and east from Lake Erie to link to the mountains of Pennsylvania. This is terra incognita to me, though I have crossed it fifty times or more on the concrete, hurtling from Virginia to Michigan. The Turnpike is a sealed system, complete with its own travel centers, and unless you are deliberately going to someplace along the road, you will never see it. I found something new here, or something old, and very American. Whenever I am in Strongsville, Ohio, I stay at the Hacienda Siesta, across from the Home Depot. Located in Cuyahoga County, a suburb of Cleveland, Strongsville is bisected by the Ohio Turnpike, which is why I was there, and darkness, which comes daily. I am not going to stop to see the soothing green space, enjoy the excellent city services, or experience the community spirit. Storngsville was founded in 1818, not long after the matter of the British in North America was settled, and Ohio was part of the great Northwest Frontier. I was starting to get a little drifty at the wheel of the sliver car, and not keeping good speed discipline. Popping onto the down slope of an overpass the sun was suddenly cloaked and dusk arrived. I don't see well after dark anymore, and it was time to get off the highway and find a bolt-hole for the night. I had hoped to make Akron, but it was not to be. The next exit was for Highway 71, which goes north and south here. Cleveland is the former direction, and Columbus on the latter. I figured there would be plenty of motels, and I was hoping for one that was like the Motor Courts of yore, where I could see my car out my front window, and not one of those sanitary three-story boxes they throw up now and label with the chain names. I asked the man in the toll-booth where the motels were, and he asked if I wanted luxury or cockroaches. I told him luxury cockroaches were just fine, and he waved me in the general direction of Strogsville. I took the Ohio Route 42 exit and passed a seedy Kings Court Motel that was a little on the scary side of decline. Then a Days Inn built of cinder block with a lot of motorcycles in the parking lot. I was about to despair as I slid past a big mall. I was going to get lost and not find a damned thing when suddenly I say the welcoming lights of the Hacienda Siesta on the south side of the road. Warm neon. Nice courtyard. I crossed a few lanes of traffic and hung a u-turn. I knew I had found a home when the woman smoking outside stepped into the office to greet me. "Buenos noches," I said, gesturing at the sign. "You are back," she said, suspiciously. "Never been here before," I said. "Must be my evil twin." She had a nose like a russet potato, and a sharp wit. She was of the opinion that "something was going on," when I inquired about the availability of a government rate, and I was compelled to agree. Dickering about the room, i allowed as how I would like to be able to see my car, and she allowed as how there was a ground floor room in the new wing. The original had been constructed in 1950, she said, and I replied that I was, too. The ice machine was located behind the manager's desk, to ensure there was no monkey business, and the manager offered to join the the nice man from New Hampshire who came down for his bucket. He politely thanked her, but said Momma was waiting back there for him. The manager laughed and said "just for a drink," and looked at me speculatively. When I got to the room with the king-sized bed, I was almost overwhelmed with the industrial scent they use to mask the ancient odors. I had to turn the television on with the key to the room, which was a real key. The plastic button marked "power" was long gone. By inserting the key and fishing around, I was able to find the nub of what was left. Once on, the picture was fine. Once the air conditioning unit on the wall kicked in, the smell went away. The bed was soft. Good for an evening on the road, and good enough that if I ever find myself in Strongsville again, I will definitely stay at the Hacienda Siesta. Copyright 2006 Vic Socotra |