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I was to go to Richmond to see virtually clichéd uninformed MFA show by someone so scarred by the WGAS that years were spent in exile before even daring to return to making art.

Unfortunately I know nothing of things fibroid so I took my mum knitting and all and headed down I-95. I foresaw it as some strange hybrid road trip, history trip – as I seem to remember my former step father Dubious Johnson having relatives in Charlottesville and then there is that strange great great grandfather of mine…

I wanted to see the new stadium for the Nats.

Whom am I kidding I wanted to do a ding dong ditch. I wanted to reprise the one that I did in Montpelier making this the third long distance ding dong ditch on the east coast – one needing an asterisk for after driving from charm city to north of Amherst Massachusetts the intended victim had headed to D.C. that same day. I also burned up the brakes past the pads down to the metal - wondered what that strange high pitched grinding sound was when I tried to stop was - on the motor during that trip as I had “borrowed” the machine for a couple of hours.

Don’t know what I was expecting but I never seem to learn from past mistakes. Overpacked photographically. In fact over-packing seems to be the theme for the trip. With little time to think, I brought everything with me just in case which usually means more decisions when there should be less.

In this case – following the Montpelier model - thought that I needed a digital to document the act. Joãozão for snaps of wander ™ and to get snaps of my mum, the leiquinhas. Still don’t know why I compartmentalise duties to specific cameras as I fully well know that it is not needed. I work better when there are limits – and I keep repeating this as I hope that one day it will sink in.

Road trips seem to be in the blood. This one, however, I think that my mum wanted to tag along not only for the open road but also because in an attempt to fathom why someone would do this.

- You mean you aren’t going to actually see her?
- What would the point of that be? Then I would just have to be social.

Knitting in hand we headed out at 9AM sharp because I said 9AM, even though we were ready a half hour earlier. I would drive she would lengthen by four feet the scarf she had made for me. Little did we know that we would see an even longer scarf in the exhibition laid out on a table.

Even though I dreaded the Baltimore -Washington corridor – beltway to beltway, things went well – except that I missed the turn 395 turn off that was to be a short cut through DC and my view of ball park of the former Expos. This meant a ride around the Capital Beltway and no relief from bypassing what could be interesting.

Being rusty I didn’t have the point and shoot out so that I could make snaps along the way but don’t know how it would be taken by the passenger to see me constantly whip it out at 70+mph which seemed the standard speed along I-95.

I could catch it on the way back which would be more leisurely was thinking US 1 for the return trip so that Joãozão wouldn’t be bored.

Dreaded the Baltimore Washington corridor – beltway to beltway but zipped through.

Liked Richmond – it seemed that Cary Street was a main shopping area but all local – people were out and about a cross between old State Street in Madison and Burlington’s downtown.

Turned off for the ding dong ditch but forgot to coach the passenger, as I stopped she started to unbuckle her seat belt and as I left the machine she almost turned off the engine and was getting out.

Frazzled I had to tell her the rules – motor on, stay in the machine, I am to walk up calmly – running draws attention and besides people are hardly ever in the front of their places. I shall place something by the door, if there isn’t a mail slot, take a snap and come back to drive off.

The coaching unnerved me, I went nervousy to the entryway and while I found the mail box, I couldn’t frame the camera correctly – I don’t know why I was worrying so much the front room looked abandoned – made three quick snaps another from the machine as we drove off.

Again the future Starbucks baristas of VCU had a better lot than those of the WGAS, a room a piece, it didn’t seem like some cynical attempt at a some mass produced art fair with pretension. It also seemed – whether by trust or apathy – that the students had to take responsibility for their space without the fear from the faculty that the entire show may not be a spectacle.

Pity the work didn’t live up to that. But again I am being unfair the ratio of good work was about the same as the WGAS. There it seems more impressive by the mass of people showing.

The fibre expert who came along for the ride couldn't shed much light on the fibre piece - looks more like a rug.

Didn’t wander much, didn’t wander at all, as I doubt that the good people of Richmond would think highly of someone forcing a cane octogenarian about the city on foot. Pity looked like a great city for a walk. Nice tree-lined areas. Property abutting other. Plenty of semi-detached housing signs of forced sociability. The houses along Main Street reminded me of Baltimore which had me thinking about a mid Atlantic housing style.

Reviewing the digital snaps at Weezie’s, I wasn’t satisfied I had to make another run at the house if I were to have anything that I could use for the notification. This time calmer went back did the deed and headed back out of town.

I couldn’t calm down which usually takes place on the walks – so sped back up the interstate this time taking I-395 only to find that it doesn’t go through. Not only did I not see the new ball park but we were stuck in traffic along New York Avenue for a good hour.