ROME — The land north of Utica looked a lot like home, I thought as we rode along on a cold sunny day. There was a rim of farm houses, ranch houses and single-wides along the road, and behind them a cloak of trees on the hillsides.

It didn’t look at all commercial, and that wasn’t good. We were trying to find the Lowe’s on Erie Boulevard in Rome and hadn’t seen a sign for miles.

"I’m beginning to think all roads don’t lead to Rome," Uncle Chet said, his lips pursed in an ironic smile.

"Too bad you don’t have GPS in this truck," I said.

"That’s Big Brother’s chip." He shook his head, and sunlight glinted off his sunglasses. "If you can find out where you are, so can everyone else."

"So what?"

"So, with what’s in the Oval Office these days, I’d rather mosey around anonymously," Uncle Chet said. "He’s already got someone reading your mail, tracking your computer, pretending to be a member of your peace group."

"Is he any worse than Nixon?" I said. "Remember the ’imperial’ White House?"

"He isn’t fit to kiss Nixon’s boots," Uncle Chet said. "Nixon broke the law and Nixon was a crook, but he was still a patriot. This guy is trying to destroy American democracy by pretending to defend it."

"That’s awful strong."

"It’s just plain awful, but it’s true," he said. "You can’t trust a word he says, no matter what the cost to the country. With Fox News as his Pravda, he’s been robbing the country blind, and that’s his sole mission. He’s there to enrich the rich by lowering their taxes, reducing their liability, and fattening them up on the pork of his record deficits.

"It’s only when you realize that, that everything he and his handlers do makes sense. They’re invested in oil, so oil goes through the roof. They own companies like Halliburton and Bechtel, wartime caterers, so we need war, perpetual war, to make them profitable."

"And we’ve had it, ever since Osama," I said.

"And that Osama; he’s a riddle, isn’t he?" Uncle Chet said. "Even on dialysis, hiding out in a cave in Afghanistan, he’s able to lull the U.S. Air Force to sleep one day. Then he directs 19 young men, armed with razor blades, to fly commercial airliners with military precision into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon."

"Another day that will live in infamy."

"Think how savvy his organization is. They know precisely how our airlines work, how our air defenses work. They know exactly how high up to hit the twin towers so they’ll collapse, and along with them, our stock market and civil liberties. Using the Internet and cell phones to communicate, these evil geniuses strike without warning, then vanish into thin air for years at a time."

"True."

"But ask yourself, if they can outwit the CIA, the FBI and the Air Force, why don’t they go down to Best Buy and get a decent camcorder to film Osama’s fireside chats?" Uncle Chet said as we broke out of the wilderness, bore down on civilization. "Instead, all we see is a blurry face in a turban; and all the words are mumbled."

"I think we’re almost there," I said. "Look, there’s a four-lane."

"And every time Bush is in political trouble, Osama sends him another inscrutable, fuzzy tape to boost him up in the polls," Uncle Chet said, slowing down at an intersection.

"Turn right; I see a Lowe’s sign down there."

"It makes no sense; almost proves Osama’s dead," he said.

"Wouldn’t they tell us that, take credit for killing him?"

"No. They need an enemy, especially one that can’t talk back," he said. "It’s the only way to justify their pilfering, concentration camps, torture in the name of democracy, spying on Americans to quell dissent. If they admit they killed Osama, everything else might unravel and no one would believe any of their stories, like the plot to hit the ’Liberty Tower."’

"Which doesn’t even exist under that name," I said.

"None of it exists," he said. "I have a theory that that’s what Whittington said to Cheney the other day when the good ole boys went quail hunting. He probably asked, ’Can someone tell me why W. waited three years before hyping up this West Coast plot as if it had just been hatched? Can someone tell me why the mayor never heard of it?"

"And Cheney said, ’Well, I’ll take a shot at that ..."’

"Oh, you stole my line," Uncle Chet said, as we rolled up the driveway into the Lowe’s parking lot in a city by the name of Rome.

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Cooperstown News Bureau Reporter Tom Grace is traveling with his Uncle Chet, who he says is imaginary. Grace’s column appears twice monthly.