Unexpected travels
A day of driving
I left Portland on July 7, a Saturday, with only one thing on my mind. I needed to reach my AirBnB in New Cumberland, Pennsylvania by 6 p.m. I did not know what the drive would entail. Unlike Portland, I had never visited eastern Pennsylvania. The drive down would be my first time on the route.
It was really a day of firsts for me. It was my first “on my own.” I would be staying with a stranger, and the drive was completely solo. I stopped at my first full service gas station in New Jersey. I made my first detour, to a pizza and beer place recommended by my uncle. And I stopped for fast food for the first time, something I want to limit during the course of the trip.
I will start, however, with the drive through Connecticut. To get from Maine to eastern Pennsylvania, one has to drive around New York City. Apparently there are a few ways to do this. My GPS guided me on to Connecticut Route 15, specifically the Merritt Parkway. In general, I do not do a street view level preview of my routes; I just read the directions and follow them. As it turns out, the Merritt Parkway is a historic scenic highway that passes through Connecticut on its way to New York. At first, I was confused about why I was driving on the scenic route. It seemed slower (speed limit of 55 miles per hour) and was not a main road. I had been so used to turnpikes and interstates that the state route intimidated me a little bit. There are quite a few hills and turns on the road, and drivers would go anywhere from the limit of 55 to 70 miles per hour. It was, I must say, quite scenic. Thick trees ran the course of the meridian and also were present just to the right. I would imagine that in the autumn the drive is picturesque with multiple colors of leaves adorning the trees and the ground. For many people, the foliage is the main reason to visit New England during those chilly months.
Normally, I do not talk about my trips to the gas station on this blog. Today, I will make an exception. During the drive, I stopped for gas in New Jersey. There was no particular reason for the stop’s site; I was just running low on gas. I pulled into the station and see a sign that says “full service station.” I promptly ignored the sign, thinking it was old and New Jersey didn’t still have parking attendants. But, not 30 seconds after I park next to the pump a man comes up to my window, and I realized my mistake. New Jersey is the last hold-out preventing self-service.
I did not know what to say to the man, and I almost forgot to turn off my car before he started fueling it. I simply told him I wanted the 87 grade fuel. He then asked, in an Eastern European accent, if I was paying with cash or credit. He must of seen me staring at him blankly, because he asked again. I pulled out my wallet and handed him my card. As he filled up the tank, I just sat in my car, confused. Then, he came around and cleaned my front and rear windows, another odd experience. What was I to do? I just stared at my phone, not wanting to meet his eyes.
To add to the experience, I did not go to the bathroom, as I always plan to do while getting gas, because I didn’t want to leave my car or pull up to the convenience store after he was done. I just wanted to leave. My first time at a full service station will hopefully also be my last. (Side note: that station also had the most expensive gas per gallon of any I have stopped at so far. Later, I rationalized that as payment for all of the attendants.)
A great part of going solo on a road trip is making your own decisions. I, and I alone, can choose where and when to stop, what to eat, and how much time I want to spend at stops. For the first time, I made a major change to my itinerary. I had planned on going to an independent league baseball game in Lancaster, Pennsylvania on Saturday. After thinking it over, I decided it wouldn’t be a great idea. This was mostly due to the fact that I had told my AirBnB host that I would arrive at 10 p.m., forgetting that their house was an hour from the stadium. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stay for the whole game, and I would’ve been tired from driving. Instead, I told them I would arrive at 6 p.m.
As it turned out, my estimated time of arrival was still going to be an hour earlier. (I always think I am going to hit traffic or stop longer to eat). Before I left Portland, my uncle told me about one of his favorite breweries. It just happened to be about a 15 minute drive away from my AirBnB. So, I went to Al’s of Hampden, home of the Pizza Boy Brewing Company.
The brewpub was more pizza parlor than brewery. Of course, on the left hand side of the building were the large tanks used for fermentation and other chemical processes. But on the right was a bar with a video board above, showing over 200 beers on tap. To the right of that was the counter with signs reading “order food and beer here.” It was close to dinner time, and I had only snacked on beef jerky in the car while driving through Connecticut. I ordered a slice of the first pizza I saw, BBQ chicken, and asked the cashier for the best in-house brew. She ordered the Murren River, an IPA from Pizza Boy. I picked up the beer from the bar on the left and sat down at one of the many available tables to wait for my slice of pizza. While I was waiting, Croatia and Russia were in a penalty shootout in the quarterfinal round of the World Cup. It was showing on the main TV and there appeared to be around 10–15 people supporting Croatia in the bar. When the team finally won, they cheered quite loudly, leaving me wondering if they were from Croatia or just really loved the team.
After eating my pizza, I waited for the buzz to wear off and drove to the AirBnB. Unsurprisingly, I was still hungry. What should happen to appear at the exit for the house? A McDonald’s! With some extra time to spare I stopped in the McDonald’s and got a Double Quarter Pounder meal to go. It tasted like a hamburger from any other McDonald’s I’d been too, reminding me that no matter where I went on my road trip, I could always expect the same quality experience from fast food chains. In a day of unexpected events, that was quite reassuring.
Travel: From Portland, Maine to New Cumberland, Pennsylvania
Driving time: 9:30
Hat of the day: Since I was in Pennsylvania, I wore my Pittsburgh Pirates hat, acquired the last time I was in the ‘Burgh. I will also wear it the next day when I go to the Pirates game, detailed in my next blog post.
Pittsburgh Pirates adjustable home cap
Interesting Snapchat filter: From New Cumberland
As soon as I saw the above filter while taking snaps at my AirBnB, I had to save it. The retro look made no sense and it takes up so much of the screen. All for a town of 7,300!
Where to next: Pittsburgh, to see a 1 p.m. Pirates game, and then Columbus, Ohio, to stay the night with more family
