Flanneur d’autoroute

The dog and I are going to visit a number of friends in Ontario at the end of the month, and as is my wont, I’ve already planned several different potential routes to get there and back, but I know exactly what route I’m going to take.  I’ll drive south on the Maine Turnpike, through New Hampshire, avoid Boston via I-495, and then take the Massachusetts Turnpike and the New York State Thruway to the border near Niagara Falls, and from there it’s a quick jog to my first stop in Hamilton, Ontario.  I’ll spend a few days there and then head on the 401 on a straight shot to Belleville, where I’ll get off the highway and circle on the winding roads of Prince Edward County til I visit my second stop, visiting my friends (including prolific commentator Viktoria).  Then after a few days of very intense conversation, I’m sure, and lots of hugs, I’ll get back on the 401 until I get to Quebec, where I’ll take the autoroute into Montreal and a steak dinner with my friend from Calgary before loading up a cooler with Montreal smoked meat from Schwartz’s Deli and the final push back to Maine.  Google says it’s 1289 miles, which sounds about right.

Who cares, Freilinger, I hear you all saying.  This is a blog, not a trip planning site. Continue reading “Flanneur d’autoroute”

Remembrance of rest stops past

“Folks, you’re probably noticing a bit of turbulence.  I’m going to put the seat belt sign on for the next, oh, fifteen minutes or so.  Flight attendants, please take your seats.”

It’s getting a little bumpy over the Wind River Range in northern Wyoming as we cruise at 36,000 feet, on our way towards an early arrival in Seattle.  I’m heading back for a four day weekend with my son, and I’m pretty excited about it.  We’re going to go suit shopping; I’ve lost the weight equivalent of one and a half sons in the last few years and I now have only a single business suit that fits, which is a handicap.  I have fond memories when I was little of accompanying my father to The Men’s Shop in Westbrook, Maine, when he needed a new suit, and I’m looking forward to taking my son to Nordstrom’s for a couple of hours of suit selection and fittings.  Despite a rainy weekend we have a packed schedule, and on Sunday it’s my birthday, which I imagine will involve John Howie Steakhouse; my son heard a radio ad for John Howie Steakhouse when he was three and now he asks to go to John Howie Steakhouse for my birthday at least seven times a day when we’re together, regardless of the time of year.

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West to east

The drive across the country took six days.  I left Seattle on a Monday night after picking my son up from school and spending the afternoon with him, the dog and I making good time to Spokane.  I was pulled over, speeding through eastern Washington, but the state trooper seemed to take pity on us driving to Maine and let me off with a warning.  We didn’t see much once we got past the mountains, driving in the dark across the plateau.  We stayed at a soulless roadside hotel; they allowed dogs, which was enough.

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SEA to PDX

I hugged my son and smiled at my ex-wife.  I get extra time with my son on Tuesdays and Thursdays this summer after his morning day camp, as my ex works in her local supermarket in the floral department a few days a week.  She had met our son and I at a pizza place after her shift was over, as he had requested pizza and it was way too hot to cook.  I had to take a redeye to Atlanta that night, which meant I had to leave straight away to go to the airport, so our switchover was a bit hasty, also switching over the leftovers from the pizza feast.

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