By traveler 
No post on Friday because I didn’t really stop long enough to do one. RB and I went from Port aux Basques, Newfoundland, to the outskirts of Philly (1284 miles) in about 36 hours. See the route at http://mapq.st/q2Puzi. Along the way, I had to stop at an Esso gas station, a holdover from years before it became Exxon?
Was pretty much out-of-touch from 1 a.m. Friday morning when we left the ferry’s WiFi access until my cellphone finally ended its week-long “looking for signal” mantra somewhere around Bangor, Maine. As much as I appreciated the hospitality of the Canadians I met, I must admit I was happy to see the gates of home at the border. It was certainly much faster to cross there than it was crossing in either direction at Niagara Falls. Hmmm… wonder why?
The lady who gave me a history of St. John’s on Monday had mentioned the fierce winds that regularly hit that area of Newfoundland stunt the growth of trees and other vegetation. That comment came back to mind as I drove down the highways in New Brunswick and Maine and noticed how much taller similar trees were than their counterparts in NL.
Also, the temperature difference was especially striking. I’d put on jeans and a thick, full-sleeved shirt for the start of the trip back and still felt chilled enough to keep my jean jacket close at hand. However, by the time I stopped somewhere in Maine for lunch, it had warmed from the upper 40s to the low 80s, so I had to change into a tee shirt and capris.
Had dinner at a truck stop somewhere in Maine. Must’ve been fairly close to the coast, though, because I found a seagull perched on the truck parked beside the RB. Don’t know what s/he was seeking, but my presence didn’t phase it in the least. After getting a picture, I fed her/him some of the fish I had left over from dinner.
Wish I’d had time to visit some of the sites in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Maine, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, or New Jersey, but time and money were running short.
The traffic was surprisingly heavy between New Haven, Connecticut, and NYC. One day, I want to write about “the art of creative driving,” but that’s for another time. For now, I’ll just leave it at “one should never underestimate the skill and daring of a ‘middle-aged woman’ just because she’s in a ‘full-sized Ford with Iowa tags.’” (Of course, since I’m still a few years away from middle age, this may not be applicable. One day, perhaps I’ll tell the story of blowing away a twenty-something guy in a Mustang who must’ve been amazed to find out that 100+ mph is possible in an old-lady car that size.)
I’m visiting Eugene Simpson for the day in New Jersey and taking a brief break before hitting the road again. Planning to have dinner–last chance for a dose of fresh seafood–tonight with my host daughter in Philly and then head to the DC area for virtually a “drive-by” visit with family in the DC Metro area.
We’ll see how early I head out Sunday.
I realized that I neglected a couple of critical parts of my journey. First, I need to acknowledge the musicians and their songs that helped me focus on my driving throughout my journey. So, I’m going back and posting links to a song that I recall most strongly from each day’s playlist.
This day’s song is Barry Manilow’s “Could It Be Magic.” I don’t know why I love this song so much, but I do know that if it starts playing, there is at least an hour-long obsession session on that song to follow.
Most importantly, of course, I thank the Lord for granting me the stamina to make the trip, the damn good reflexes to steer the RB as she needed to be guided, and the ability to enjoy His handiwork as it whizzed by my windshield.