Onward Through the Fog

Microphones, Pint Glasses, Dry Roads, and Camera-clicks

Matthew Sedmock

Matthew Sedmock
Akron, Ohio, USA
May 02
I'm a 25-year broadcast professional, writer, blogger (http://pipercourt.wordpress.com), and purveyor of fine craft ale. I also suffer with Cleveland sports teams, and blow off steam while riding my 2011 Triumph Bonneville.


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SEPTEMBER 13, 2013 11:52AM

Orders from Headquarters

Rate: 2 Flag

It’s a trip I’ve made a couple of times a month for the past 4 years.  I call it ‘securing provisions’.  It involves ‘chocolate’.

Ben Franklin’s, on 30th Street, is a craft store, which also carries multiple brands of Ben Heggy’s candies.  But I am entrusted with securing only one type: dark chocolate peanut clusters.

Each visit also resembles a scene from Groundhog Day.  I have, literally, the same conversation every time I stop in, with the elderly woman who waits on me:

Her:  It’s a nice day to ride today.

Me:  Well, you know what they say….every day is a good day to ride, it’s just that some days are better than others.

Her (chuckling): That’s true.

She grabs the bag with the clusters and puts them on the scale.  It’s generally $15.00 or so that we can’t afford, but it’s a luxury that we squeeze into the budget.

Her:  Looks like $15.82.

I pay.

Her:  You know my daughter has a bike.

Me: (knowing that she has a Honda Rebel 250, but that she hurt her hip and hasn’t been riding it much)  Yeah, you know I think you told me once –

Her (interrupting)  It’s a small Honda.  I can’ think of –

Me (interrupting)  Maybe…a Honda Rebel?

Her: (excited) That’s it!

I put my wallet into my pocket and grab the bag.

Her: Well, you be careful out there.  Those people in cars don’t see the motorcycles for some reason.

Me:  I know.  I sure will be.

I walk out of Ben Franklin’s and over to my bike.  Across the lot is Nathan’s Patio, with a good number of bikes parked in front.  Mostly black ones.  Mostly Harley-Davidsons.  The riders who are inside take frequent breaks from their draft Budweisers to come out and smoke.  I have enough issues operating a 2-wheeled death-trap completely sober, so I’m always amazed at how these people can drain a keg, at 4 in the afternoon, and then jump on their Street Glides.

The traffic in the distance, as Route 62 heads towards the on-ramp to I-77, is noisy.  I stand next to my bike and I open the bag.  Individually-wrapped hunks of dark-chocolate euphoria, speckled with generous blobs of peanut-chunks.  I’m not sure what the ingredient is, whether it’s real or synthetic, but it’s something that exists in Heggy’s candy that is absent everywhere else.  And it’s a taste-profile that has entranced my taste-buds since childhood.

Donna doesn’t know this, but I usually include one individually-wrapped white-chocolate piece.  I don’t recall the name of it, but it has tiny slivers of ‘pretzel’ in it, and it looks like this:heggys-new-header-11-1

I don’t even like pretzels all that much, but those crunchy fibers embedded into that white chocolate erupt into a mini-fireworks display in my mouth.  I chew and then nod at the nicotine-inhaling Harley riders who stare at me and my small bike.  They do not nod back.

But that’s alright.  I count on it.  Just as I do this brief, solitary stop, on my way home.   Before I turn the ignition-key, I send a text to Donna:Provisions secured.  OMW.

‘On my way’.  Yep.  I’m entrusted with a mission, and I cannot fail.


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Gary....thanks for the kind words! (hell, it would be something if I could at least suggest a decent beer to those guys, anything but Bud!)

Hey, forward me an address (matthewsedmock@aol.com) and I'll send a couple of pieces of Heggy's!
Herein pro-funnie!

Mine own slow slow mind took in OMW as

(why aren't disen rate screens more usein' friendly? No, not 'complished with script suchin' dis, nine, always withda' elbow offn'
desk...upscreen...Holy slo-motion, elbow wounds...there goes the lawn dart marathon!)