Before I begin, a note of gratitude (which he will never see) goes to Trooper Haskins of the New York State Police. For "being a man about it" and owning up to the fact I was in fact speeding, he reduced the charge on my citation to that of "disobeying a traffic sign" vs. an actual speeding ticket. His generosity is most appreciated. Of course I haven't seen what the fine for disobeying a traffic sign in NY is, so my gratitude may be premature. Still, Tropper Haskins seemed genuine so I'm going to trust he truly has cut me some slack.
We drove our asses off today. We left Rangeley, ME at 9 a.m. and just pulled into Niagra Falls, NY about 1 hour ago--10:30 p.m. Let me just say that going out Maine's backdoor, while affording us vistas of staggering beauty, was a royal pain in the ass. Especially if you're trying to get somewhere fast. Really, there is no way to get anywhere fast if you're coming down from the mountains of Maine headed west. There are few if any interstates running east to west until you descend into upstate New York.
We threaded our way through the Rangeley Lake region of Maine, across the White Mountains of New Hampshire, down the border of N.H. and Vermont on US 91 and across the extreme southern portion of syrup country into Albany, NY. And that was just to get to I-90. That alone took us until about 3:30 p.m. As I said, the drive was through the most amazing country I've seen this side of the Rockies, but it was at a speed that seemed covered wagon-esque.
The conditions of the roads along this route limit speeds to 40 or 45. And this has nothing to do with weather. The asphalt is buckled from the temperature extremes yielding a ride not unlike that of what I imagine a covered wagon might have felt like. Even with the stunning scenery the ride got really old after about three or four hours. I never thought I'd be so happy to see an interstate in my life.
New Hampshire was by far the worst. Considering they have no sales tax (or income tax?) it's little wonder why. As conservative as I'm often accused of being, I still believe in tapping the public for at least enough money to keep the roads from jarring your teeth out. Of course, N.H.'s motto is "Live Free or Die". It should be "Live Free or Die From Bleeding To Death After You've Bitten Your Tounge Off Driving to Grandma's."
Vermont, as evidenced by the comparitively smooth ride we enjoyed, does have some sort of public levy to care for the roads. And the state is every bit as quaint as the Newhart Show implied. We stopped at The Royal Diner in Brattleboro, VT for lunch. This culinary shangri la in the middle of maple land had an eclectic menu that included a garlic cheese black angus burger, homemade baked ziti, whole belly fried clams, lasagna and a wide variety of shakes, sundaes and malts crafted with ice cream made on site. I've never had a harder time deciding what to order.
Another reason our trip took a little longer than it might have was due to the detour we took to visit Oswego, NY--my birthplace. Mom had me there while dad was on a S.A.C. base in Thailand. She was staying with her parents at the time. Later she and I moved to Illinois when I was about 6 mos. old to stay with dad's folks until he got back, so I have no recollection of Oswego. Unfortunately it was dark by the time Laurie and I pulled into town and we were both wiped. All we had time to for was a quick recon of the spot where I entered the world--the aptly named Oswego Hospital. I really wish I could've seen the city in the daytime. Oswego sits on the southern shore of Lake Ontario and boasts a fairly good sized commercial port. It has to be beautiful. But since we needed to get to Niagra, we couldn't stick around. I have every intention of flying back soon and exploring it more thoroughly.
Sack time. We've got 10 more hours on the road to go. At least to get to Dyer, IN and the inlaws. We probably won't get home until Sunday. As wonderful as these two weeks have been, I can say without reservation, I can't wait.
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