Day 16: Thursday, the Drive Home

My apologies for putting the last part of the trip in the beginning, but there was a bit of a mix-up between my laptop which I took on the trip and the Mac which I use at home. I blogged a couple of days while traveling using an old blog site, however I fell behind. I will catch up.

I am bound and determined to get through life and travel without a GPS, but sometimes… 

I leave the hotel at Niagara Falls at 1 p.m., the temperature is 86 degrees, and the gas gauge reads ¾ full. The goal is to drive for a couple of hours, find another hotel, and make the final push for home tomorrow. The sky is overcast and not long into the drive, it begins to rain. Ugh, not again. I’ve driven through more rain on this trip than we’ve had all summer (it seems). 

I reach the outskirts of Syracuse and see a sign for a Hampton Inn. OK, this will be a good stopping point and I pull off the thruway, pay the toll while trying to see all the signs at the end of the ramp so I know which lane to be in for the hotel. I take a right expecting to see the hotel nearby. No signs of the hotel although I see a tall Super 8 sign above all buildings farther down the road. I never actually see that hotel, either, as I go through traffic light after traffic light.

As is often the case, things don’t go as planned. I finally give up and turn around (especially as I’m heading west again and I want to be going east). I return through all those lights, stop at the toll booth for another ticket and I’m back on I-90E. At Exit 32, just before Utica, I see another Hampton Inn sign, take the ramp, pay another toll and this time ask the attendant where to find the Hampton Inn. 

Her directions are a bit long and she ends by saying, “It’s only about a 10-minute drive.” Oh, dear. I take the road she says and the next as she directed, but by then I was forgetting. Had she said left or right? I swear she said Hartford, so I must be going the right way and I drive and drive and suddenly, I find myself in Utica and there’s the thruway again and no sign of a Hampton Inn or any inn for that matter. 

The frustration and confusion spill out of my eyes as I get back on the thruway. The gas is getting low at this point. I probably should have filled the tank before heading east again, but by now, I’m a bit of a wreck. Traffic is heavy and no one slows down for the rain. Lightning flashes – two big jagged streaks to the ground. The tears added to the rain diminish my vision further.

I am sick of the driving, the traffic, and the rain, and I’m tired of not finding the Hampton Inns. My body aches from sitting. I have trouble seeing the road and focus on the vehicle in front of me. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a traveler and a travel writer. Maybe this was all a mistake and I should have just stayed home to begin with. I don’t care anymore, I’m going home tonight! It will be difficult as I seldom drive after dark anymore and the rain makes it worse. However, if my calculations go well, I should be home by 10 p.m. I can do this!

But first I need gas and stop at a travel center on the interstate. That is my first break in three hours and shortly, I’m eastbound again. And at 5:30, I drink the last of my water. Uh, oh, I should have picked up a couple more bottles while I was stopped.

Lightning flashes across the gray-brown sky. I grip the steering and continue on. It’s a bit discouraging because I was looking forward to this drive during daylight when I can see the Mohawk River. There are a few sections to traverse before I get home that I know are going to be scary in the dark, especially in unfamiliar areas.

The first is getting on I-87N from the thruway. I pay my last toll and the attendant thinks Route 7 is Exit 6. I take the ramp building up speed for the interstate, round the corner, and slam on my brakes. Five (or more) lanes of solid lines of traffic are stopped with these three lanes merging onto I-87 with at least two other lanes merging from the far right from who knows where. I don’t know how many lanes are on the interstate. Traffic inches forward.

I’m behind a big semi which I can’t see around. I have no idea how long this goes on. Is it like this every evening? A mile or so later, there is a sign stating an accident at Exit 5. This is only Exit 2. Oh, there goes my getting home by 10 p.m.

What surprises me is how courteous drivers are. If someone wants to change lanes, he is easily let in. Merging traffic from exits 2, 3, and 4 are allowed in. The speed picks up a little and Exit 5 is passed and I reach Exit 6. Uh, oh, this says Route 7 goes west. I continue to Exit 7 hoping there is a Route 7 east. Ah, yes, east, I drive continuing down into Troy through many traffic lights. I pass a restaurant I stopped at on previous trips south. Wait a minute! When did I cross the Hudson River?

The night gets darker and the rain continues. I pass through Hoosick and wonder if Route 279 around Bennington, Vt., coming west also goes east. It does. There is one spot where I don’t know whether to go right or left and I come to a complete stop in the V. The one car behind me zips past. I choose to go right and at the end of the ramp, the sign says Vermont Route 9 with an arrow pointing left. Yes!

The trip across Vermont on Route 9 is an adventure unto itself. The speed limit is 50 mph in most places. It’s a beautiful, curvy drive during the day but at night, in the dark and the rain, and feeling like I’m driving through an unlit tunnel, I am scared out of my wits. The only light is from my headlights, the vehicles behind and in front of me and the occasional house or store. The headlights behind me create an odd reflection in the side window and I keep thinking something is coming at me. All I can do is to devote complete attention on the car in front of me and when he gets too far ahead, I watch the white line on the right hand side of the road. Sometimes I get too far over and hit those rumble strips and the noise makes me jump. 

The road rises up and over Hogback Mountain and then down and often does not have a white line, but a guard rail which is scarier than the white line. There is still at least one vehicle on my tail. I am surprised he never passes when he has the opportunity. Maybe he’s doing what I am and concentrating on the vehicle in front. Headlights from oncoming cars blind me for those few seconds before they pass and one hits a huge puddle that slams water into my windshield. I almost have a heart attack. My hands and arms ache from gripping the steering wheel so hard. It’s one petrifying experience!

I reach Brattleboro and lose the car in front of me. I take I-91N for a short stint and due to the construction there is only one claustrophobic narrow lane with cement walls on both sides. My exit comes up and I can’t see where to turn and pop my high beams on for a second. Then I’m going around the rotary and soon cross the New Hampshire state line. There is still that one car behind me.

The next scary spot is the round-about being constructed in Keene. There are so many barrels I have no idea where the road is, where to turn, and am very grateful for a car in front of me. Route 9 makes a left and that initial section is freshly tarred with no lines yet painted. There are just little white flag things to show where the lines will go. Sometimes I can’t even tell if I am in the right lane. The car behind me sticks close.

Finally, after what seems like forever, I reach my Hillsborough exit. The car behind me goes straight. A few minutes later, I’m home. Thank heavens the light goes on when I open the garage door. It takes three tries before I safely back into the garage. (It’s the first time coming home after dark without any other lights on.) 

I open the door to the house and turn on the hall light. Pele is in the dining room staring at me. Her fur is all puffed out and her eyes are huge wondering who is coming in the door at this time of night.

“Kitty, I’m home!” I call. She comes running and sits up on her hind legs stretching her front paws to me. I scoop her up and hug her as tight as I dare. “I missed you so much, baby!” I croon into her fur. She purrs and purrs and rubs against my face letting me know she missed me, too.