Apparently they drive unmarked cop cars around here.

Made it. Goddamn speeding ticket. Cop. 70 in 55. Come on that’s not even really speeding can’t you see we have a baby give a guy a break. Goddamn unmarked bullshit. 

Kate says okay Ryan that’s enough. 

Two days later we made it to Chesapeake Bay. My grandparents meet us at the door. We bring yogurt and Ezekiel from the car with fruit and nuts. A whole bag. We talk and talk and talk and talk. And then we eat lunch of ham and cheese and salad greens and grapes and liverwurst and salami and the baby is babbling and crawling and crying for a nap so here we are. 

I tried to pay the $220 speeding ticket online but the apparently this morning’s ticket is not up yet so I ordered 500mg 15ml Full Spectrum CBD Tincture from CBDISTILLERY.COM. No pesticides, No GMO. After 3 days of dormant research, Jesus came out from the tomb and placed his order for CBD oil. 

Goddamn speeding ticket. They prey on the poor, they really do. $220. That’s ridiculous. Through these towns where the limit rises and falls like the tide. I mean give me a break. 

Kate was in the back seat trying to sleep. Last night, the tent was THISISTHEOUTERBANKS windy and the neighbors were partying like what and we were 3 crammed into what’s tight for 2, and at lunch today Kate said I think I like a little more luxury when I’m camping and I feel her. The single guy across the road from us had a blow up king size mattress with a memory foam top inside his tent, and a rocking fold-up chair to rock himself to sleep. Inside the tent. 

It’s 1:30 and we’re napping. And I’ve more or less forgotten about the goddamn speeding ticket. Kate said it’s better you than me. We’re here for today and tomorrow and then on Monday morning we flap fly south for Georgia for a few more weeks before the Great Penske Migration to Minnesota. 

I had a bunch of deep thoughts really worth writing about but my brain is mush like the bananas we feed the baby from interrupted sleep and tossing and turning and too cold too hot. Apparently my dad went swimming in cold Minnesota lakes today. I skimped on the ocean because it was too windy and the baby was ready to go and I hadn’t had coffee yet and the sand dunes were too taxing on my quads and I didn’t have a towel and all these things. But I did get in a 7 mile run and listen to yesterday’s DemocracyNow about how even FOX News is throwing trump under the bus blaring things like how can he say he’s cleaning the swamp when he himself is dirtying the waters—paying off hookers and all.

Grandma said chicken is for dinner. Which is good. She reminds me a lot of mom. Which is good. But mostly she reminds me of her. I have a lot of memories in this house. My grandparents’ memory is as intact as mine, probably more. 

She asked me if these tattoos hurt. I said yes. Why do you do it, she asked. I like the art, the look of it, I said. She shrugged and smiled. It’s a difficult thing to communicate. 

I had a santo palo stick charred at one end on the dash on the cop asked what is that and I said it’s a stick you burn and it helps the mood and I said look it’s a stick and I picked it up and offered it to him but he didn’t touch it. 

55 in a 70. He was even going the opposite direction as me. Can he really detect my speed? Come on.