Great Atlantic Seaboard Bicycyle Tour: Killens Pond State Park, DE-Intercourse, PA 8/29 96 driving miles; 8 walking miles

Around eight-thirty in not much of a hurry, we aimed the car toward Intercourse, PA. Our first turn around, nearly an orgasmic swirl, took us in a u-turn so I could get a closer look at a South Seas Green 1953 Eldorado Coupe (A make and model I've dreamed about more than gjrls, more than a pro basketball career, more than winning the lottery, more than world peace, more than equity, more than anything you can name). I doubt I'll ever own one but if I did, I would be soooo cool. After that scintillatingly cheap thrill things went fine until I missed a turn when Route 1 merged with too many junctions for me to choose. Then they went even better. We found ourselves off the highway on a "red" road as Ed calls them. Technically, it was highway 41, which led us through a little town called Avalon, PA where Ed spied a coffee shop (So he could have his cup of the day). There we met two "best" humans of the day, Art Paiglianiti and his lovely daughter, Rhiannon (Like the song). They opened their Natural Foods Store/Bakery/Breakfast Lunch Bar in January and after a tough beginning seem to be digging in. They are certainly more examples of good people working hard, living the dream, and their warmth spread over us like the delicious special butter they put on their fresh baked buns. Art gave us a bun and a taste of his vegetarian chili. If we hadn't been saving ourselves for The Good and Plenty restaurant in Smokerown, we'd have eaten there. I promised Art I'd spread the word, and those of you who know, know I'm serious about food. Because of the promise of rainy weather, we rented a tiny cabin at an RV Park outside of Intercourse. Due to his demotion, the Prince will sleep on the floor while I take the bed. Our midday outing found us in Lancaster, PA, a town if some sixty thousand whose history is older than our country, but it's also a town struggling to recover from the bad times of recession. We went there to see the Lancaster Central Market, which has been a market on the same plot if land since 1730. It is stunning and features fresh foods that include vegetables, meats, baked goods, canned goods, dairy goods, and ready to eat foods. The purveyors, both Amish and English, are helpful and eager. I didn't have a bag big enough to buy what I wanted, so I settled for some local apples and a quart of black cherry yogurt. I had to be physically restrained from buying a chunk of pecan fudge as big as my arm. We asked a local book store owner the best and worst question. She replied, "The best of Lancaster is the food; you can throw a rock in any direction and find good eats built on local fare. The worst, she said, was the lack of livable wage. Lancaster has a thirty percent poverty rate, but one of the lowest unemployment rates in the country. Affordable housing is an issue as well. As usual in the East where space is lumited, wealthy neighborhoods sit mere blocks away from poor, ramshackle tenements. The wealthy live in vast Victorian mansions while the poor live in tarred tenenents linked together like arms of scared children walking down a dim street. Another current phenomenon, the "hipster" (Young people with money) armada has invaded. They prefer what used to be servant's quarters, which they renovate into very posh andcharming living spaces. This is all well and good and has much to say in rebuilding the economy; however, it also serves to evict an already disenfranchised group: the poor. This is an American problem that could quite well spell our doom as a nation. The gap ever widens while so many take Marie Antoinette's attitude: "Let them go eat cake." Once again I hear the call. I wonder if there's some greater power waiting for me to get off my fat butt into action. In the meantime, I watch, learn, thank and pray, and above all remember that life us good, especially today.

OMG!