This is going to be very disjointed and random as my brain is still a bit discombobulated from spending three freaking hours going 5 miles an hour through New York City traffic.
But driving … nothing is better than just getting in your car and hitting the open road. Back when I was a young sprout, I used to do it all the time either drving back and forth from RI to Ridgecrest, NC, or taking one of my trips to Disney World. I’ve always been a big fan of Roadside America and while I usually stick to the interstates, it’s usually more fun to follow what every tacky billboard attraction catches your eye. This past weekend I had the chance to do it again.
(And while we’re talking about Roadside America, let us all doff our hats and note the passing of Alan Schafer. You probably don’t know the name, but if you’ve driven at all on I-95 through North or South Carolina, you know his work. Alan Schafer was the man who built ‘South of the Border.’)
I started out at 3:00 in the morning because I wanted to try to cruise through NYC before the early rush traffic hit. Luckily on the way out I made it. Driving at night is probably the best time to drive. There’s hardly any traffic, the weather is cool. Driving through Connecticutt is a bit strange at night because most of the roads give you the impression of the movie poster from Close Encounters. Compounding the weirdness is that I have Radiohead’s OK Computer on the cassette deck. It only got worse when I flipped over the tape and had Tom Waits Rain Dogs on the other side.
‘…they ask me where the hell I’m going, at a thousand feet per second …’
The clouds always seem lower at night.
I stopped at one of the rest areas on the Connecticutt Turnpike. The Conn. Pike is one of the most interesting examples of a government project that actually went right. When it was first built and up until the mid 70’s there were toll booths about every ten miles or so from (I think) about Bridgeport on into New York. Eventually, though, the turnpike authority realized that they had actually collected enough tolls to pay for the project and the toll booths were actually taken down! These days you’d never know they were there.
It was the smell of the interstate at the rest area that got to me though. It’s a smell that gets into your blood.
I noted with interest that heading southbound on I-95 that there were no tolls on the NY Thruway. Apparently, people will pay good money to get out of NYC.
Right outside of Baltimore I passed a huge building that said it was the Warner Brothers Studio Distribution Center and oh my Lord! They have an outlet store! This is going to run into some serious cash if I let myself stop there.
Coming home through the Blue Ridge mountains and you never quite realize how thick and how quick the fog can come up. It hangs on the mountains like a blanket and watching the sunrise over the mountains and the early morning fog swirling away is a sight not to be missed.
On my way down, I took I-66 as the connector between the DC Beltway and I-81. On my way back I found a small connector road that looked like it would cut about 45 minutes off of my driving time. It was US 211 that passes by Luray Caverns. Unknown to me, the road took you right over two mountains; tight hairpins turns and twisty mountain roads. It was remarkably well kept up for a US highway. In the valley between the two mountains there was a small resort that advertised “Last gas and food before mountain.” As it was only about a five mile drive to the other side, it rather set up an ominous association that the mountain had swallowed up quite a few unprepared cars or hungry driver.
But it was one of the most magnificent drives I had ever taken. The views of the mountains in the morning were incredible. It ended up probably costing me the time I was trying to save, but it was one of best “shortcuts” I had ever taken.
And I did stop at the WB Outlet store on the way home. Quite the disappointment as it was pretty much all clothes and cartoon stuff. And a surprising amount of Pokemon and PPG stuff considering that they are not main WB product. Is it sexist that you cannot get a men’s PPG t-shirt anywhere?
I also passed a place called the “Prime Outlet.” Now I know where all those numbers come from.
But as wonderful as driving is, there’s something a bit magical about crossing your own state line and knowing you’re home again. The streets and houses you know, and all your familiar haunts. 28 hours on the road, but it’s nice to be home.
[Edited by Eutychus55 on 07-23-2001 at 10:27 AM]
Plus you get to yell Arab
We stopped & skinny-dipped at about 187 waterfalls & swimming holes along the way.
