Pedaling the Erie Canal

 Day 10: 

We zoomed church as we drove to Rochester, New York where we met up with our friend, Jay Parnes, from the ZSCCA (Z-Series Car Club of America). Jay is a retired dentist who now spends his days wrenching on BMWs—a career pivot we fully support. Since it’s difficult to find a mechanic you know you can trust, George had wisely pre-ordered parts and shipped them directly to Jay: front and rear differential fluid, transfer case fluid, plus transmission fluid and filter. All neatly waiting.

Not only did Jay tackle the car maintenance, but he and his wife, Deb (an OBGYN and professor of medicine), also graciously opened their home to us. Talk about a full-service stop—repairs with lodging included. While Jay worked his magic in the garage, we got out of the way and wandered through Rochester’s art festival. Think Tri-Cities’ Art in the Park… but quadrupled.

That evening, Jay and Deb—both vegetarians—served us a meal made with the freshest ingredients. After days of road snacks and questionable travel fare, it tasted heavenly. We definitely ate more than etiquette recommends, but it was sooooo good!

Day 11:

Jay had one last item on the to-do list for the car, so once again we made ourselves scarce—this time by hopping on our bikes and pedaling over to the Erie Canal. We explored its history and even made it halfway to Palmyra before realizing time wasn’t on our side. (If only we’d had another hour or two, we’d have made the full trek.)

By noon we were back on the road, heading toward Newark, Ohio, to see George’s brother and his family. We rolled into town just in time for tradition: an evening walk with the nieces and nephew to Dairy Isle. Ice cream always tastes twice as good when it’s part of a family tradition.

Day 12:

While the nieces and nephew were in school and the grown-ups were off to work and classes, we snuck away on a little pilgrimage—to the NuCamp factory, birthplace of our trailer. We learned about the latest upgrades, took notes, and even booked an appointment for a trailer makeover next April when we’ll be passing through again. 

Getting there, though, was its own adventure. The two-lane road was brimming with cyclists that refused to cede their positions to let cars pass. But wait… this was Amish country. Could it be? Yes. The Amish have traded in their buggies for bikes—many of them e-bikes. They might not use electricity at home, but once they’re at work? Game on. 

The whole thing reminded us of Mormon loopholes: no coffee or tea, but hand me a Red Bull and we’re square (though not me personally). Every culture has its workarounds. 

On our way back from the NuCamp factory, we detoured through Sugarcreek—Ohio’s one and only alpine village, complete with chalet vibes and the world’s largest cuckoo clock. For those of you who've been to Leavenworth, Sugarcreek's one square block doesn't quite compare. Still, we had to stop. I mean, how often do you get to see a giant cuckoo clock with a full band popping out every half hour? 

That evening, George turned into the family bike shop, tackling his niece’s long-neglected ride. Meanwhile, I was on duty with the 4-year-old nephew—translation: keeping him from further dismantling the bike and ensuring no more bike parts were lost.

George was in his element. He swapped out a derailleur, ran new cabling, adjusted brake lines and pads, and trued up both wheels. By the end, he was beaming with satisfaction. To cap it off, we all hopped on our bikes for a short family ride, proof that his handiwork was road-ready.

Our son Alan once worried that life on the road might mean we’d fall short on “hours of service” needed for a fulfilling life. Well, between babysitting and bike repair, we can officially log this week’s quota! 

Every story has a soundtrack. Here's a song to pedal along to: