Niagara falls, 7th day

I wake up very early with a beautiful feeling, maybe it is the lake shore, after all I was born on the shore of another lake. I drive up from Geneva on the Lake to the next town which bear a native sounding name Ashtabula, I stop on the shore where there is a coffee house, it is about 7 30 in the morning and the coffee place doesn't open until 8. A solitary fisherman looks at me with that look that fishermen give you, "are you going to bother my fishes and my peace?"; a tractor is cleaning the beach, I touch the water expecting freezing water, it is warm, not less than 18- 20 degrees, it is now or never, I put on my swim suit and throw myself in the water, which is clean too. At 8 o-clock I am the first and happy customer of the coffee house.

Back on the I-90 the noise at the front of the car is getting bad, I ask advice at the first rest area and pull over at the next gas station. At the back there is a garage where a lame mechanic welcomes me, he evidently does not deal in non-American cars. The place contains some of the Americana that one dreams to find in the USA. His diagnosis is clear, it is a wheel-bearer, the front right one. 260 $ and few hours of work. I am glad I have found him, he is clearly competent and honest. In less than three hours the car is back on the road and drives perfectly again.

My early start has turned into a late day. What the hell at this point I want to break the day in full. The next sign is a welcome center for the Niagara Falls, I pull over and get instructions.

As I arrive in Buffalo, the weather changes, a huge storm is over the city. When I get to Goat Island Car Park at the Niagara Falls, the rain is pouring down.

There they are the Niagara, from the top it is difficult to evaluate the dimension, but when a boat approaches them from below, you can appreciate how gigantic they are. Water, water, when was I in the desert? three, four days ago? I wander in the park for about one hour, before heading back to the car.

The rest of the day is driving on the I-90 till late to get as close as possible to Boston, where tomorrow morning I need to resume my scholarly clothes for a few hours. When I approach Springfield MA, I decide to pull over, it is about 10 pm I am very tired, but most of all , I want to sleep in a Springfield before going back to Europe. This is my last chance. I wish there could be Moe's pub round the corner.