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8/13/1999 Friday Reading: Road signs along the way.
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On the RoadI hope you are all in the mood to read a long, exhaustively detailed recounting of our car trip to Maine. Tab drove most of the way, which means that, except for passing drinks and snacks back to the boys and answering their endless questions, I had little else to do than to tap away on my Zaurus. Despite our best intentions, we didn't get to sleep until about midnight last night. Tab had reset the alarm from 3 to 3:30, but it was still hard to drag ourselves out of bed. Tab didn't want to have our stuff sitting in the car over night, so we had to load everything this morning. The night air was heavy, warm, and humid. My hair clung to the back of my neck as I lugged suitcases, photo equipment, and other assorted paraphernalia out to Tab, who was standing on a stepladder to pack the cartop carrier. It took us an hour and a half to get underway. In addition to helping to load the car, I also had to finish packing the cooler, put way the dry dishes from the dish drainer, and change the cat litter boxes. We didn't wake the boys until just before we were ready to leave. Excited about the trip, Daniel woke up immediately and dressed quickly. I carried the twins out to the minivan still in their pajamas. We planned to change them into their clothes at one of the rest stops. When I brought Stephen out to the car he gleefully announced to Tab and Daniel, "I'm here!" as if to say, "Let the revelry begin!" We pulled away at just before 5 a.m., later than we had hoped to leave, but still early enough to avoid the worst of rush hour traffic on the N.J. Turnpike and into NYC. Last year when we left early for Maine, the boys slept in the car for the first few hours. This morning they were too excited to sleep, however. After the tension and ill-feeling of the past few days of packing and preparation, it was a relief to be on the road. I have unhappy memories of trips to and from Maine when I was a child. My father was always irritable and prone to fits of pique on these jaunts. He would stop only once during the 500-mile trip. Heaven help you if you needed to use the bathroom at any time other than at the scheduled stop. We weren't allowed to listen to the radio or even talk much because Dad wanted to concentrate on the driving. We'd arrive in less than eight hours, but our nerves would be frayed from the tension and our limbs stiff from not having stretched. The rest of my family still subscribes to my father's philosophy of travel. "How long did your trip take?" is one of the first questions they ask when we arrive. Tab and I have a different style, however. The trip takes us about ten hours because we stop at least every two hours, if not more frequently, to let the boys stretch. We're not out to break any land speed records. The cloud-filled sky had lightened to a pearly grey when we drove by Newark Airport at 5:50. Whenever we travel this way, I always think that this stretch of the Turnpike is probably the ugliest road I've ever seen. Industrial buildings and refineries line the Turnpike on either side, and the air reeks. No wonder the rest of the country has such a low opinion of New Jersey since this is the part of the state most frequently traveled by out-of-state visitors. Even the soft light of a cloudy dawn does not improve the prospect. At 6:10 we crossed the George Washington Bridge into New York. The boys were awed by the shimmering, lighted expanse of the bridge. Traveling the Cross Bronx Expressway, Tab remarked that this six-lane highway is consistently voted by truckers as one of the worst stretches of road in the country. I can see why. It is too narrow for the traffic volume, and it has no shoulder. The road surface is pockmarked with hole and ruts. I'm always glad when we put this road behind us. We entered Connecticut at 6:35. Shortly after, we stopped for about ten minutes at a rest area for a quick bathroom break. At 7:05, after a little over two hours of travel with at least another seven and a half to go, Matthew utters the first "Are we almost there, yet?" query. We stopped at a tourist center/rest area on I-91 in Connecticut at about 8 o'clock, where, we changed Stephen and Matthew out of their pajamas. Everyone used the restrooms there. We were back on the road about 25 minutes later. North of Hartford, Connecticut, we passed several shopping centers where we noticed many of the same chain restaurants and stores that we have at home: Sam's Club, Borders, Old Country Buffet, Marshalls, Circuit City, Staples, Ground Round, Office Max. It's kind of depressing to see how prevalent these chain stores have become. Soon every town will look exactly like every other town. At 9:10 we entered Massachusetts, my home state for my four college years. We stopped at a gas station for about fifteen minutes to refill the tank. Tab also checked the tires and put air in three of them, which were getting low. The boys, who had been remarkably good for the first half of the trip, started squabbling about mid way through Massachusetts. Tab suggested breaking out a new purchase, cassette tapes of the radio drama version of Return of the Jedi, which we bought for 30% off at a bookstore clearance sale. Daniel was entranced by the tape, and Matthew fell asleep after a little grousing. Stephen, having no one to fight with, quietly played with his Magna Doodle drawing toy. At 11:05 we entered New Hampshire and drove straight into our first traffic jam of the trip. Cars were backed up 2 1/2 miles at a toll booth. It took us more than 20 minutes to get through the booth.
We stopped at a rest area just past Kittery, a few miles into Maine. Behind the main parking lot is a smaller parking lot no one seems to know about, and behind that is a little playground with two sliding boards and a jungle gym. We unpacked the lunch stuff from the cooler and ate our pb&j sandwiches at a picnic table. The boys ate a few bites and then were off to run around and play. We stayed there for about 45 minutes, giving the boys a chance to burn off some of their excess energy. The exercise tired Stephen and Daniel out; they fell fast asleep almost as soon as we got back on the road. Matthew, having slept earlier, was wide awake and badgering us over and over about how much longer before we got to Nana's.
By 2:10 we were back on the road for the last leg of the trip, which should have been uneventful. Except that, just north of Augusta, an accident took place not thirty seconds ahead of us. All at once, Tab saw a huge cloud of dust, and all the cars in front of us suddenly slowed down almost to a stop. A logging truck had gone off onto the median strip and rolled completely over. The wheels were still spinning in the air when we drove by, and the upside down, crushed cab was on fire. Many cars had already stopped along the shoulder, and we saw one would-be rescuer running toward the truck with a fire extinguisher. But then the flames rose high, and the heat drove the man back. It was a horrifying sight. "Do you think the driver is still in there?" I asked Tab. He nodded. Just past the accident, traffic slowed down almost to a near standstill. South of Waterville, one of the two northbound lanes of the highway was closed for resurfacing. It took us more than an hour to travel less than ten miles. Finally we were past the backup and onto the scenic backroads bound for Skowhegan and my mother's house, where we arrived, weary but happy to be there safe and sound at 4 p.m., exactly 11 hours after we left home this morning.
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At 11:40 we crossed the Piscataqua River into Maine. One of the first signs you see (after "Welcome to Maine, The Way Life Should Be") is "Caution: Watch for Moose in Roadway." Tab said, "Yeah, that's what you want to see, a thousand pound animal in your path when you're doing 65 miles an hour."
At 1:35 we were near Yarmouth, Maine, and we decided to stop at the