I was thinking, as I was returning home from Thanksgiving with my family the other day, about what points I look for and say “almost home”. Of course, it differs according to where I’m returning from.
If I’m coming from my parents house in northern Indiana, I know when I cross the Ohio river in Louisville, it’s ~3 hours home and when I get off I-65 in Bowling Green, it’s one hour.
If I’m coming from out west on I-40, when I cross the Mississippi in Memphis and see St. Jude’s, it’s about 3 hours, unless I hit traffic in Nashville. Same when I hit Memphis from the south on I-55
Coming from the east on I-40, when I cross I-75 in Knoxville, it’s 2 hours and change. When coming up I-65 from the south, Huntsville, AL is not quite 2 hours. On a long road trip anything less than 4 hours signifies almost home to me.
What mark tells you that you’re not far from home when you’re returning from a trip?
My Gran’s: when I see the huge radio telescope. That used to be where my parents would say: “we’re nearly there now!”. We’d be looking out for the telescope for the whole 5 hour journey It still means “nearly there”.
My old holiday cottage in Wales: there was one really sharp bend in the road where the dogs would suddenly realise where we were going. They would sit up, I would open the window so they could stick their noses out and together we would smell the air. It smells different and you know you’re nearly there! Also, the tails start wagging so hard it’s hard to drive straight That’s how you really know you’re nearly there.
Manchester: when I can see the Hilton from the train. It’s really high and oddly shaped.
Rotterdam: If I’m coming from the south the big bridge, from the north when I pass the riding school I went to as a child.
Brazil: when the moto taxi drives out of the village and we leave the last houses behind us and the road gets steadily worse.
For me, almost home after a long trip happens as soon as I pass the MA border. The state’s small enough that once I pass that border I know I’ll be home in under 75 minutes. Of course, depending on where I cross that border, I may be home in 3 minutes. Then again, anywhere that would have me so close to home after crossing the border isn’t far enough away to be considered a long trip. So, we’re back at whenever I cross the MA border.
Same deal here… but substitute NJ border for MA border.
As soon as I cross the water into New Jersey I’m almost home.
Since I live so close to the Delaware, any Delaware bridge really does count as “almost home”
Coming from the NY area usually means I was at the far end of Connecticut, so the NJ state line still is “almost home” for me since it is 3/4 of the way home.
And coming down the NJ Turnpike, I consider the two large buildings one sees at Exit 9 (New Brunswick) as really “almost home” since it is about 25 minutes from that point to my house.
Although I can agree with the sentiments you mentioned, missred, and have the same basic destination you do, I can’t feel “home” until I’m inside 30-50 miles from Nashville, any direction.
When I lived in Montgomery or was “going home” to see the folks, I felt I was almost there when I got to the south side of Birmingham, roughly 100 miles.
When I’m flying into San Francisco, it’s the sign at the airport in which the Mayor welcomes you (we have a new Mayor now, but I’m not sure if there is a new sign). If I’m taking the train in from outside the city, it’s reaching the first station (Embarcadero) at the end of the Transbay Tube. If I’m just coming home from work, it’s either passing under one particular tree (I think it’s a plum tree, because in the spring it drops lots of purple fruit all over the sidewalk), or crossing my street.
Coming home from Vegas, it’s when I hit the Tejon Pass. I’m under an hour at that point. Coming from Central or Northern California along the 5, it’s the Cajon Pass. Coming south on the 101, it’s when I hit the northwest edge of the Valley (generally around Agoura Hills or so). Coming from the San Diego area…well, I don’t even know. I’m not sure San Diego is far enough away to qualify.
And if I’m flying, it’s usually whenever I can tell we’re over Palm Springs or thereabouts.
Yes, most states, along most major interstate roads, have some sort of welcome sign, and it’s not weird for various states to have “Thanks for visiting [state]” signs shortly before the border.
I don’t feel “almost home” until I see the downtown skyline. Then I know it’s less than 30 minutes and a few miles north to my sanctuary in the city. I’m usually coming in from the south or west.
Eureka’s reply made me think of a small town in Tennessee (I forget its name offhand, but my kids called it “Tiny Town” when we went through it on several trips and noticed its welcome sign) where both sides of the sign read “Welcome to _______”. We assume that was some signmaker’s error, but it might very well have been the intent.
Signage in the US (at least in the South) varies significantly by which roads are involved. Interstates usually identify counties and major rivers along with the nearest towns on the roads that interchange with the Interstate. State and county roads, as well as most US highways, will identify many more minor details.
Another thread might investigate the peculiarities of road signs by locale. Might be fun, even!
[Bela Lugosi] Home? I haff no home. Honted! Despised! Liffing like an animal. The *jongle *is my home. But I vill show the vorld I can be its master. I vill perfect my own rice of pipple, a rice of atomic supermen vhich will conquer the vorld! [/Bela Lugosi]
Everytime I drive to Pennsylvania I wait til the moment we drive by the “Welcome to Pennsylvania” sign and I throw my hands in the air and say “Yay!”
Every. Time.
I also like to announce the fact that we have now entered a new state to anyone one else in the car (or me if I’m by myself). It’s like I think they can’t read the sign. I say, “We’re in [state]”, even though we clearly just passed the sign.
Around here, when I start seeing signs for the Beltway (DC suburb). That means that (barring unusual traffic) I’m within a half hour of home.
Once in college, we were driving and saw a sign saying our destination was 122 miles away. I shouted “Hey! We’re almost there!!”. In fairness, the drive itself was 400ish miles so this was better than 2/3 of the way there.
When I was a kid and we were coming home from Up North (northern Wisconsin) on I-94, there was an old barn on the west side of the highway painted a hideous seafoam green. It was just the worst paint color possible for a beautiful old barn. It was in the vicinity of Racine/Kenosha.
We never noticed it on the way north because it was on the west/left side of the interstate, but you could not miss it on the trip south. We’ll be home in 20 minutes.
I was far, far away for 16 years. I came back and settled near my hometown (Gurnee, IL). I was not the girl I’d been before and my hometown had changed at least as much.
The barn is still there and it hasn’t been repainted. Most of the seafoam green paint is worn away, but it’s still obvious and hideous.
Just Sunday morning, as we came home from the Milwaukee airport, I commented on it. How is it possible that most of my life has passed on by along with my childish dreams, but that barn with its ugly paint is still there? And every time I see it, it still says to me, “you’ll be home in twenty minutes”?
It still means “nearly there”.
That’s how you really know you’re nearly there.