I cannot say I was thrilled at the thought of this road trip from Cleveland to Boston. Anne and I travel well together, mostly because we know when to give each other a little space. In a Chevy Impala, there is not a lot of space.
Sheila at Hertz was a doll. She started a bit passive-agressive, but I won her over with my compliments and English charm.
We left Cleveland with a collection of "Don't die" type wishes from family and friends.
Anne bust a move on the first session, getting us through Northern Ohio and into the not so great state of Pennsylvania. Meanwhile I worked out how to use the Satellite Radio.
In case you were wondering ... they have a hundred channels, but each channel appears to have only 20 records on rotation. There's only so much Rihanna I can listen to, and I reached it with that fucking Umbrella song 2 years ago.
Giant Eagle has great restroom facilities if you are ever in the Erie, PA region. We stopped there and at WalMart to get lunch, snacks and phone chargers. And then, with me in the driver's seat, Anne worked out how to use the toll transponder, and discovered that some of the satellite channels share their 20 records with each other.
I'd been to Buffalo twice before. I've yet to see the sun there. I can only presume that Buffalo has the highest per capita sales of Vitamin D in the world.
We switched driving somewhere close to Rochester. Home of Kodak. The rest stop was full of people in yarmulkes. This surprised me. I wore a big woolly hat because with wind chill, it felt like minus20 ... C or F ... they're both cold.
Anne's impeccable driving skills took us through much of Upstate New York, during which time I played on my iPad. Once in a while I'd feed her a cookie or a potato chip. I'm always looking out for her. I'm supportive like that.
Albany and into Massachusetts was my gig. Numerous failed attempts to pronounce the place name Schenectady ensued. By now we'd stopped drinking to avoid having to make rest-stops. Anne took over on the Mass Pike. We figured with all the snow in Boston I'd drive the final 30 miles home.
We'd driven home because our flight, along with 1-2 days worth of every other flight on the Eastern Seaboard, was cancelled due to a great blizzard.
As we entered Metro Boston our main question was "Where's the fucking snow?" I'm happy the previous 10 hours was easy-as-pie driving. I did not want to be zig-zagging on the highway, but this was "Day out in the country" driving.
Finally 1 mile from home we hit tricky conditions. I missed a red light and nearly hit a stopped car. In my defense I was also trying to avoid hearing 'Firework' by Katy Perry for the 20th time that day.
By the way ... Katy Perry - the Dollar Store equivalent of Zooey Deschanel.
Crisis averted we managed to get home without a scratch on the rental car and back to our home, sweet home.