Introduction

Finally! We've been talking about it for so long and it's finally going to happen. Since I went on my big trip two summers ago, Suzanne and I discussed doing this for a long time, but the opportunity never arose. To be honest, I think we always spoke as if it were a dream, that it was something we'd do someday in the future. Well that someday, albeit brief, has arrived.

Suzanne is returning for her second season as part of the Saxtons River Playhouse doing summer stock theater in Saxtons River, Vermont. Because she is staying for the summer, she has a lot of stuff to bring, making it difficult to take public transportation. I suppose the bus would be possible, Suzanne lives in New York City so the options are limitless.

We both thought it would be nice to take a trip and spend some time together. We see one another so little, particularly without the company of Mom and Dad. This would fulfill two desires: spend some time in New York City so Suzanne could show me the town, and then we could take a short camping trip together before arriving in Saxtons River.

It turns out our time together is lengthened a bit. Mom and Dad are going to a surprise birthday party on Saturday, the first of June, for their friend Diana in Connecticut. On the way back they were going to pick up Suzanne in New York and bring her home for a visit. Suzanne arrived home on Sunday and her only commitments for the week were an appointment in Philly on Tuesday morning and, once in New York, she is going to go to a friend's cabaret in Greenwich Village on Wednesday night. We decided to leave Tuesday night for New York, arriving sometime between the evening and morning rush-hour traffic. I know this is a large window but why nail yourself down, right?

Citybound

Berwyn, Pennsylvania—New York, New York

We almost went out for dinner, but thankfully, Dad did not feel like it. Not that I was glad Dad was not feeling well, but I really didn't feel like going out tonight. I'd been packing this afternoon and broke a sweat so changing into nice clothes would have given me that not so fresh feeling. Instead, we had a nice dinner at home then Suzanne gathered up her scattered belongings and I collected all my camping supplies.

We left around 10:30 PM and arrived exactly two hours later. It's really amazing how fast the trip to New York is. In reality it is two hours (on a good day), but it never seems like it. My theory on this is that because much of North Jersey is just a suburb of New York City, it seems like you're almost there for about the last hour of the trip. I guess I don't know the trip well enough to know exactly how far away I am at certain landmarks, like the Newark Airport, the rest areas, or the wispy smell of the Fresh Kills Landfill drifting over the water from Staten Island.

As usual, there was a bit of traffic at the Lincoln Tunnel toll but nothing too bad. They were cleaning the tunnel tonight so one lane was blocked off while these zamboni-looking trucks clouded up the air in the tunnel by spraying the walls with water. This seemed to succeed in distributing the dirt evenly on the tunnel and the unfortunate people passing through it.

Coming out of the tunnel we were faced with a split-second decision: take the left or the right fork. We took the road to the right which was the correct choice, thankfully. We arrived at the garage on Suzanne's block and put the car in for the next day. This is one of the cheaper garages around annd costs $12 for 24 hours. It is located under the Skyline Motel on 10th Avenue and 50th Street.

Once in Suzanne's apartment, we discovered Jim, Scott's sub-let for the summer, sleeping in Scott's bed. I had Suzanne walk through Scott's room first to get to her room and turn on a light so I could see what I was stepping on. We put our things down in the little space available and collapsed on the bed.

Once in Suzanne's room, we were disappointed to find Jim's stuff all over her floor and bed, all the flat surfaces. We both relied on this space for our stuff as well as general maneuvering in the room. After throwing out Jim's stuff, organizing our bags, and creating space to walk, we settled into Suzanne's double futon (with 2 futon mattresses) and got some sleep.

A Day In New York

New York City, New York

We woke up fairly early today; there was a lot to do. I called my friend Don at work and we agreed to meet for dinner at a Chinese place by his office. We are meeting him at 5:30 this afternoon, then we're going to the Village to see Suzanne's friend, Sarah Boone, do her first caberet show in New York at 8 o'clock. In the meantime, Suzanne had some errands to do before she left town for a couple months.

The day started out on a disappointing note upon my discovery that I left all my bathroom stuff in the car. Some may ask what the big deal is, but I am fond of my soap and shampoo. So I didn't shower this morning figuring I'd get the stuff this afternoon and shower later.

We got dressed, ate a pop-tart, and hit the streets. Of course, the amount of usable energy from two pop-tarts will be expended by the time you reach the front door of the building, so this was not exactly a suitable start to our day.

This notwithstanding, off we went on the errands. First stop: the drug store. Suzanne needed a few necessities like a toothbrush and toothpaste for the summer. I think she chose the green toothpaste and the blue toothbrush, but I could be wrong, there were so many and we considered all of them. She even bantered with the security guy standing by the door, commenting on all the different types of toothpaste and toothbrushes to choose from. While in the Duane Reade drug store, we also looked at shaving cream (pretty sure she took the green kind) and as for chewing gum, she likes the red kind (cinnamon).

Next we hit the bank and then the gym. She had to do her final banking before leaving town and suspend her gym membership. Then we went to this take-out place called The Old Garden Deli near Suzanne's place. We each got a meatball roll-up which resembled a mini stromboli. They hit the spot and she said goodbye to the old man who owned the place. With food in out tummies, we ventured up toward Central Park. We went to a record store looking for a CD holder, Suzanne needed one for the summer. I looked at the bargain bin CDs on sale while she shopped. Found two Bob Dylan CDs I had wanted for a while. The special was 3 CDs for $25 so we needed to find one more.

Suzanne wanted to shop a bit more so we went north a few blocks to Tower Records and looked at their selection. They had nicer cases and more variety. Suzanne chose the one hundred capacity case. Once she reclaimed her backpack from the bag checker, a guy who must have had two dozen earrings in one ear alone (and god knows what other bodily mutilations and disfigurements), we went back to the other record store and I got my two Dylan CDs and she rounded out the $25 special by getting the Indigo Girls CD with the Hammer and Nail song on it. I got Highway 61 Revisited because I really like that album and my LP is not in the best shape. I also bought the Freewheelin' album because my LP has a muffled sound on the second side. I don't know if this is intentional in the recording, but I knew this was not present on the CD because I borrowed it from Morgan Besson, a physics professor at Villanova. I was happy to find those at the decent price of $8.33 each.

With our errands complete, we walked up to the park for a while. By now it was about 2 or 3 in the afternoon and we figured we should be back at Suzanne's by 4 to take showers and change for tonight. We walked up to about 77th Street and entered the park walking over to The Lake. This is the name of the lake, not too original. However, it fits in with the name of the reservoir in the park, Reservoir; and while I'm on the subject, frankly, the name of the park itself, Central Park, is pretty bland. No one would name a park that today; it's too plain. It would, at the very least, be named after a Kennedy or perhaps Martin Luther King, Jr., and with the number of streets, highways, bridges, stadiums, schools, mountains, and parks already named after Kennedy (take your pick) and King, this also would be bland. Not that the Kennedys and King didn't achieve greatness, but if everything is named Kennedy or King I think it loses its significance. What do you think of when you hear Roosevelt Island? I know what I think of.

This is my first visit to Central Park and I found it to be a beautiful oasis in the middle of the bustling city. People were all over the place, which leads me to wonder what these people do for a living that allows themtime in the middle of the afternoon to come to the park and rollerblade, work on their Judo exercises, or sunbathe. Many people also paint by the lake in oil or watercolor but most of these people were older, living off the retirement funds in their rent-controlled, Central Park West apartment, no doubt. We saw a photo shoot of some kid modeling a lightweight waterproof outfit for some fall catalog like L. L. Bean or Lands End. He was probably very warm because it was a hot day and he had pants and a long sleeve top on, not to mention the lights shining on him. A more refreshing sight was the retriever frolicking in one of the large circular fountains. The dog was trying to get a small ball floating in the fountain, but the ball only bobboed up and down. He chased the ball all around the fountain, but could not grab hold of it. Finally he was able to gt the ball, but now there was a wet dog running around greeting the people in the grass. Its owner was trying to catch up with it, but was unsuccessful until the dog stopped by a group picnicking and decided to sample some of their food. We left before the beating commenced.

Our last stop in the park was Sheep Meadow, which, if you saw The Fisher King, was the spot in Central Park where Robin Williams liked to be "free." It is a large field of grass above which is a buffer of trees in the distance and beyond the trees are the skyscrapers that line the southern edge of the park, a magnificent sight which we gazed upon for five or ten minutes. It was a nice sunny day with blue skies and low humidity. There was a cool breeze that would make you forget the hot afternoon sun.

Looking at the time, we decided to head home and we began walking south toward the apartment at 50th between 10th and 11th Avenues. Before we could get out of the park though, we were approached by a crew from ABC who wanted us to speak on camera about what I find annoying about women and then have Suzanne tell them what she finds annoying about men. I think they thought we were a couple. I wasn't too keen on this idea and declined, but Suzanne hesitated for a moment. This woman immediately began to work on her, "It'll be fun, just take a second." But Suzanne also declined, bringing up the fact that the people who do those things always look like such idiots on TV. I agreed.

I was bound and determined to get my bathroom stuff from the car so we went back to the garage and asked them if I could get some stuff out of the car. They said yes, but only one of us could enter the garage. So I went into the garage to find the car wedged in between two other cars with about three inches of clearance on either side. I wonder how they get the cars out without denting the hell out of the bumpers. They must have to move half a dozen cars to retrieve just one. I got the stuff, popped an allergy pill (my nose was running all day), then we walked back to the apartment.

I must admit, taking my clothes off in the one-foot-wide strip of floor space in the bathroom was a challenge. By the time I got out of the shower, Suzanne asked, "Do you know what time it is?" Knowing that she knew the time, I knew the answer was not going to be good. I was afraid to look but it wasn't too bad. It was 4:55 and we had to meet Don at 5:30. So we'd be a little late. We dressed quickly and walked to the subway. We had to get to Lexington and 40th Street. We hopped off the subway and changed to the subway shuttle that goes east to Grand Central Station. Once at the station, we only needed to walk one or two blocks south.

We were going to meet at a Chinese restaurant that Don occasionally visits. We briskly walked to the corner where we were told we would find it but we didn't see anything that looked Chinese. All of a sudden from behind us came the word, "Ovaltine." I knew this was Don, it's one of those stupid quotes we've made into an inside joke. It's a line from Young Frankenstein.

Don showed us where the place was and we went in and sat down. Sweat was streaming down my face since we had walked so fast and when we weren't walking we were crammed on the subway sharing heat with strangers.

Don noted the more expensive dinner menu and the addition of tablecloths. I got the sesame chicken even though I was warned ahead of time by Don about its strange appearance. When the dish arrived it was at this point I began to appreciate the warning I was given. It looked like meatball-sized balls of fried chicken covered in this dark orange-red sauce which might possibly glow in the dark. It tasted good though.

We ate dinner slowly, updating one another on the current events in our lives. After dinner, Don generously picked up the bill and we walked toward Penn Station, where Don takes the Long Island Railroad home. Time does fly in the big city and before we knew it, we were rushing around again. Don thought about coming to the village to see Sarah's cabaret, but decided against it. We parted at Grand Central and Suzanne and I took the subway south to the village. However, the train we jumped on turned into an express train while we were on it so we had to get off about five or ten blocks north. We hopped off the train at 7:45 giving us fifteen minutes to get to the cabaret theater, a place called The Duplex. We were meeting Suzanne's friends Rob and Laurie Ann at the bar to see the show.

The show started a bit after eight and lasted about an hour with one encore. It was a good show. having never been exposed to caberet, it made me appreciate the tacky lounge singer skits of Saturday Night Live. After it was over, Sarah came out and talked with her friends in the audience eventually making her way over to Suzanne. Sarah and her family and friends were celebrating the show and her first performance in New York at the bar next door, but Suzanne thought that we should go home so she could start packing. Rob and Laurie Ann decided to walk home so we decided to join them. We walked and walked eventually making our way to Times Square. Laurie Ann and Suzanne found a good place to take a quick break, the Haggen-Daas store.

After ice cream, we walked home, tip-toed through Scott's room again, and collapsed on the bed. Earlier, our plan was to do most of the packing tonight so we could get out of the city by lunch tomorrow, but Suzanne was too tired and began to choose the 100 CDs that she would take with her for the summer. This took more brain power than I think either of us expected and sucked the remaining energy out of Suzanne. So we hit the sack and planned to do the rest of the packing tomorrow.

The Hudson Valley

New York City—Hudson Valley—Woodford, Vermont

I thought it would be ideal to leave around 10 in the morning, after the morning rush, but with all the packing yet to do, this would be difficult. This was all right since our goal was to get out of the city and its far reaching suburbs before the afternoon rush hour.

Well, we woke up around 10:30 and Suzanne began to pack her things. We showered and then I got the car while she dropped off some library books. It only cost $19 to keep the car in the garage all this time; I was surprised. I loaded up the car hoping everything would fit. Most of Suzanne's things fit in three boxes (books and music) and four garbage bags (clothes and shoes). Then she had some other things like her quilt, a pillow, and other stuff for camping. Would it all fit with all the other camping stuff we already have in the car?

The answer to that question was barely. The trunk was full and the back seat was filling up fast. There was more stuff in the back seat than I preferred, but it wasn't too bad. Before leaving, we dropped her keys in the apartment and decided to get a bite before we hit the road. We spun over to the H & H bagel factory and ate some still-hot bagels. It was two in the afternoon when we got on the Henry Hudson Parkway, called the West Side Highway by New Yorkers. This road took us up the west side of Manhattan and over the Harlem River into the Bronx. I had never been in the Bronx so now I've been in all five boroughs of the city, not that we got off the highway and did any serious Bronx exploring, but at least I've seen in it, from a distance.

We took the Saw Mill Parkway north out of the city and through Yonkers. I found it amazing to see how fast the foothills appear. It seemed like we had just left the city and we were encountering these large, rocky hills. This part of the map is such a twist of roads that it is hard to tell what road you're on or what the best road to take is. So we just ended up following this road to I-684. At least it is a road I can distinguish on the map. At its end we got on NY 22 north. This looked like a nice road once we were far enough away from the urban sprawl.

Actually, the traffic on this road was not as bad as I though it would be. Soon we crossed the Appalachian Trail and stopped in Amenia. FDR's Hyde Park home, West Point, and the Vanderbilt Historical Site were slipping away from us. I have wanted to visit these places for a while, but never seem to be in the right place at the right time. This is the case today as well. Another day.

NY 22 becomes a smaller road on the map; I hope this means it will be less crowded. There is a method to choosing a good back road to drive. First of all, the rules are not consistent across state lines. Different states have different ways of marking their roads. Also, as we Pennsylvanians know, different states take care of their roads differently, or not at all in the case of West Virginia. When I was living in West Virginia, there were roads where half of one lane would just sink down a hillside and this was acceptable for extended periods of time. However, as a general rule, if you are in an eastern state, don't expect too much from an old U.S. highway unless you want to see a lot traffic. I think the old U.S. highways would be good if there was no traffic, but more often than not the opposite is true.

Out west these are the only back roads that are paved and actually go somewhere. But we're not in the west, so for this trip I look for good secondary state roads that are fairly direct. On the map the roads break down into blue or green for interstates, yellow for four lane roads with traffic lights and every-man-for-himself driving. Malls are usually found on this type of road. There are thick red roads which make good roads if you're away from a major city or suburban spill-over. Thin red lines are very good. If you can find one that actually goes anywhere, take it. They usually take you through small, quaint towns, the type with parking along Main Street. In fact, more often than not, they are Main Street. Then there's the gray road. You take your chances with the gray roads. First of all, they're often unmarked so the probability of getting lost is higher. Of course, getting lost for five or ten minutes is an inevitable occurrence if you like back roads. Second, depending on what state you're in, the road condition can be dicey. Unless these have a route number I usually don't take them.

NY 22 was now going from a thick red road to a thin red road. This was a good thing. The good thing about taking backroads are the unique things you see. We saw a house along route 22 that is one of the more interesting I think I've seen. It is many different colors with faces on the side and a large rainbow on the front. After blowing past it, I had to turn around. We passed by the Taconic State Park, a long park along the Northern Connecticut and Southern Massachusetts border encompassing a small mountain ridge. Earlier we thought this would be a good place to camp tonight, but it was only four or five o'clock; too early to stop for the night.

We planned to camp around Saratoga National Historical Park. I was determined to visit this park after passing up the others earlier today. There are two campgrounds in the Green Mountain National Forest so we tried these. At the turn-off from NY 22 is the town of Hoosick and nearby is Hoosick Falls, both with a 'k'; the river flowing by us is "The mighty" Hoosic, sans the 'k.' In Hoosick, we picked up NY 7 east toward Vermont where it turns into VT 9. This road descends into Bennington, VT, a large town by Vermont standards. Coming into the town we saw a large obelisk towering over the valley in which Bennington sits. We didn't know what this was but I was sure we were going to find out.

In Bennington we stopped to eat at a pizza and sub place. It was good to have some real food finally. I had a ham grinder and it tasted good. On our paper place mats were highlights of Vermont, including the mystery obelisk: the Bennington Battle Monument. We finished and headed for the hills and the campgrounds. The road out of Bennington climbed into the Green Mountains. At Woodford State Park we stopped to check out the camping situation. It's located on a plateau about 2400 feet in elevation and contains the Adams Reservoir.

We stopped at the registration office where the woman warned us that it was "buggy." This was not a good sign—telling us how bad the conditions are before we give them our money. We looked around and concurred; there are a lot of damn mosquitoes in this place. Up the road a mile or two is another National Forest campground that I though might be cheaper, the state park wanted $12. So we cruised up to the Red Mill Brook Campground, where it appeared that there was no fee for staying, all they asked for was a donation. Why this was I didn't know, but after seeing that the only facilities were two pit toilets, I though it would be good to at least have running water for Suzanne's first camping experience. I must admit I like having running water myself, so we chose to return to Woodford and pick a place to camp.

We found the ultimate site, number 45. It sits on the lake and has no neighbors but the forest. It was perfect. We got back to give the woman our choice, but she said it was reserved. We saw no sign of life at 45 but took the site next to it which also has a good view of the lake but is not tucked back into a woodsy pocket like 45. The mosquitoes were serious here. We set up the tent while trying to fend off the pests at the same time. This was a challenge.

Once we got the thing up, we put our stuff in, being careful not to let in any unwanted freeloaders that would feast on us all night. By the time we were safe and sound inside it was still light out but because it was cloudy, there was no sunset. Not even a trace of where the sun was, just a uniform, gray sky. Had it been clear, we would have seen a nice sunset on the lake through the trees.

We talked for a few hours in the tent, figuring out where we wanted to go tomorrow and the direction our lives were taking in the next few months. Suzanne was doing Saxtons River and some really challenging parts; I was heading to grad school and some really challenging classes. I asked her what time it was and she said 6:30. I said, "that can't be right," and she began to stare into her watch face then said, "my watch stopped." It was just about dark so we figured it was about 9 o'clock. She was wondering what we were going to do for the rest of the night if it was only 6:30.

It got darker and darker and before Suzanne went to bed she went to visit the bathroom. Did she want me to come with her, after all, it was pitch black by now. "No, I think I'll be okay." Well, in a minute or two she was back. I thought it was a bit quick; she changed her mind because there was something moving in the woods. As we walked to the bathroom along the wooded paths, things were moving; we couldn't see them, but could only hear them. I figure they were mice or moles or something like that. There were a lot of 'em, whatever they were. The stars were out. Seeing tons of stars, I thought, oh good, it's clearing up. By the time we were back at the tent, only one or two stars could be seen so it was a quick parting of the clouds.

We continued talking for a bit but soon called it quits. It had to be pretty late by now, probably around 11 or 11:30. Time for some sleep.

Revolutionary War Tour

Bennington, Vermont—Saratoga, New York—Gorham, New Hampshire

We woke up late today. Usually the heat in the tent wakes me up, but it's cool out this morning. Furthermore, it looks like rain, leaving me feeling unmotivated. We struggled out of the tent sometime around 10:30 or 11, packed the car, took showers, and left.

On our way back into Bennington, we stopped at Linda's, a nice looking restaurant on the outskirts of town. I ordered the mysterous sounding western sandwich. This is not something I expected to see in New England; perhaps it's a phenomena of western new England. The sandwich contains a bacon, onion, pepper omelet. I figured this was a good compromise between breakfast and lunch. The food was all right, nothing special though. More interesting was the plethora of other things they sold. Bikes, dolls, even boots. I don't know where all this stuff comes from, but it seemed a bit odd to me.

We headed for the obelisk that we sighted on the western side of town last night. It is not on the main road so I just drove toward it. But we began to pass it, so we turned on the road to the airport and circled back, arriving right next to it. It sits in a large square with a thin road around it and very nice houses on the other side of the road and on all the roads leading out of the square.

There was a school field trip visiting but they were just finishing up lunch on the lawn and the teachers were trying to round everyone up and make sure everyone had a chance at the bathroom. We wandered around and inside the bottom of the tower. The monument was erected for those who served in the Revolutionary War and died in the Battle of Bennington.

The Battle of Bennington took place on August 16, 1777 five miles northwest of this monument in New York State. At this site was the supply depot they were defending. John Stark commanded the American troops and John Burgoyne commanded the British forces. The British had just recaptured Fort Ticonderoga and were planning to cut off New England from the rest of the colonies. The British began their advance but met resistance in the battle at Hubbardton, VT, located above Rutland. The British forces were running low on supplies and decided to try and take the depot in Bennington. The two units of British, Indian, Loyalist and German mercenaries were defeated, but the British regrouped and as the American forces were returning to Bennington, the British attacked again. The newly formed State of Vermont had asked New Hampshire for assistance and as the Americans were losing ground to the British, Colonel Seth Warner appeared with his Green Mountain Boys to tip the scales and defeat the British once again.

The obelisk monument was proposed in 1854, but it was shelved after the fundraising efforts were unsuccessful. Soon after the nation's centennial, the project was reborn and the fundraising was more aggressive with hopes of finishing it by the Vermont centennial in 1891. The cornerstone was laid in 1887 and it was completed and dedicated in 1891. It is 306 feet tall and is the tallest structure in Vermont. For one dollar you can ride the recently installed elevator to the top, but it was so overcast today we figured we wouldn't see too far out of town.

The metal staircase that winds its way around the inside wall was closed. With only four inches between each step, they were built to try to accommodate people of all ages and strengths. In front of the obelisk is a statue of Seth Warner standing with one arm across his chest and the other holding a sword. Soon, we left this chapter of the Revolutionary War but our next park, Saratoga Battlefield, will open another important chapter.

We proceeded back into Bennington and toward New York. Once at NY 22, we turned north and followed it through Hoosick Falls. Then we turned west on NY 67 to Mechanicville and US 4. Saratoga National Historical Park is just a few miles north. Passing through the old industrial section of Stillwater along the Hudson, we soon arrived at the park. There is a long, scenic drive into the visitor center, where we were greeted by a friendly volunteer. They have a small museum of artifacts and a film we chose not to stay for. We also chose not to purchase a ticket for the park tour road. This is a road that winds its way around the park with stops along the way describing historical events which took place at that site and showing any fortifications and trails used.

The overall gist of the battle is this. Remember John Burgoyne, General in the Royal Army who thought he could cut off New England from the rest of the colonies. He strongly believed that the Hudson River was of prime import in the war and that he needed control of its benefits at all cost. His campaign of 1777 took him from St. Johns (now St. Jean), Canada on the Richelieu River south along Lake Champlain and the Hudson River to Crown Point, Fort Ticonderoga, the Battle of Hubbardton, then Bennington, and finally to Saratoga (now Schuylerville). Once at Saratoga though, he was met by American forces on September 19, 1777. Battles ensued and the British, with no support in sight, were weakened until October 17 when they finally surrendered their 6,000 man army. This was perhaps one of the most important victories in the Revolutionary War and halted the British advance from Canada.

Eight miles up the road is the Schuyler House. It was the home of General Philip Schuyler before and after the battle. It was burned down by the British but rebuilt in 1777. We didn't stop in but had time to look upon the house as we waited at a red light in front of the grounds.

Rather than drive deep into Adirondack Park and cross Lake Champlain on the northern crossing (US 2 near the Canadian border), we chose the southern crossing. We continued up US 4 leaving the side of the Hudson and continuing north to pickup NY 22 again. We can't stay away from this road! This takes us up by the extreme southern tip of Lake Champlain and into Adirondack Park. Once in Ticonderoga, I wanted to try and find Mt. Defiance. I don't exactly know what it is, but it looks interesting as a point of interest on the map. Drove through "downtown" Ticonderoga but only saw one sign for Mt. Defiance. After driving around town a bit, we ended up finding NY 22 again, so I conceded this one and kept going.

Soon we were at the "Bridge to Vermont." This bridge joins two peninsulas. In New York there is Crown Point, where there is a campground, and in Vermont there is Chimney Point with DAR State Park. This area of the lake has been used for over 12,000 years by American Indians, then by the French who settled in the 1690s. The British chased them both out eventually and now we use it for public recreation. Refreshingly, there is no toll for the bridge.

Now we were on VT 17 and I asked Suzanne to figure out where we were going. We wanted to go toward New Hampshire so it was her job to get us there. Her choice of routes was excellent. She said, "Why don't we just stay on 17 then take 100 up to 2." This sounded fine to me so here we go! VT 17 started out a thick red road then changed into a thin red road finally becoming a gray road.

The ride started out in a flat agricultural area with some heavy rain. The rain lightened up and we left the farms behind for the scenic mountains. It went right into the Green Mountains on a windy, hairpin-turn path across a ridge of mountains. If it were not so cloudy, we would have had excellent views, but as I so poetically put it, "Another view down the toilet!" At least it was not pouring. The forest floor was covered with green and occasionally a small mountain stream would tumble off the rocks into a large stream flowing down the mountain beside the road. The highest peak near the road is Stark Mountain at 3,662 feet. There were not really any other cars or, for that matter, any sort of civilization around. It was wonderful! I'll probably go back someday when I can actually see something beyond half a mile.

On our way down, we slowly descended back into rural civilization with the reappearance of shacks surrounded by piles of junk that seem so typical in these parts. Soon it was north on VT 100 toward US 2. This road was built along the Winooski River and parallels interstate 89. Before long we were in Montpelier, the capital of Vermont. It is a small city of about 8,500 people. Route 2 passes right in front of the gold-domed capitol building. This is a small building, seemingly perfect for Vermont. It is built against a hill so the background of green trees really makes the gold dome and white walls stand out, even on a gray day.

We continued heading east on US 2; once again into the mountains. It was about five in the afternoon when we reached Groton State Forest. Last time Suzanne and I looked at the atlas and tried to find a place to stay for the night, this looked like it was a possibility. It was far enough that we thought it would be a good place to stop. So we turned off US 2 onto VT 232 and up the mountain we went. We drove and drove and discussed the remainder of the day, where we would eat, etc. Our discussions led to one conclusion; we can drive a little more today. Rather than stop now, why not drive farther, it'll make us closer to wherever we would be tomorrow. So I turned the car around, wishing we'd made this decision about five miles back, not regretting the scenic drive though. We figured we could get to New Hampshire, at least. So, once again it was east on US 2 through St. Johnsbury, VT toward the Connecticut River, which separates the two states.

As soon as we crossed the Connecticut River we entered Lancaster, NH, a small town with major road problems. They had construction signs all over the place reading "Caution Scarified Pavement." The road throughout the town was scraped down to some prehistoric level of asphalt with about as many pot holes as actual road surface. Motorcyclists would be lucky to come out of this town alive.

The road was leveling out now as we entered the Washington Valley. Two landmark tourist traps worth noting: Santa's Village and Six Gun City. Santa's Village is a tacky roadside attraction that's like a cross between a miniature golf course and a waterslide, but it looks like a large plaster of paris igloo with other brightly colored Christmas-like sculptures littering the landscape. Needless to say, it was not exactly packed with people today. Six Gun City is a tasteless attraction which is basically a strip mall with an old-west, ghost-town, wood-plank sidewalk feel to it. Something that really reflects the local culture, right? There was not one car in the parking lot. Okay, it was a rainy day, I'll give it that.

It was now going on six or seven and we were approaching Moose Brook State Park. We figured we'd look here first, then keep driving if it didn't look good. Well, I thought the park looked nice, it was very pretty. Suzanne thought the ranger looked nice, so it wasn't a hard decision-making process tonight. It looked like it could rain at any moment so we were rushed to get the tent up.

We set up the tent and settled into our bug-infested home for the night. Our site was in total shade. Actually, most of the campground was. Surrounding us was forest with moss covering the ground everywhere, flowing off the roots and tree branches like water. We talked in the tent about where we wanted to go tomorrow. I was looking at the map of Maine, eyeing up Moosehead Lake to the north. Would this be too far for the drive back to Saxtons on Sunday?

We figured we'd drive and see how far we get, then plan for the following day once we were there. This is not the smartest thing, but Suzanne was really not too worried about getting there early. I was going to count the miles in the atlas, but after sitting in the tent for a while, after a day of driving, I was too relaxed to actually get up and do something that would involve using my brain. Looking at the map, I figured that we could stop in some of the closer parks if we thought Moosehead was too far.

There is a park right near the New Hampshire border on Lake Mooselookmeguntic, an equally impressive name. There's also Mt. Blue State Park—we'll play it by ear. Then we started talking about the coast and Suzanne seemed to like this idea. I said Acadia National Park is beautiful, but it's pretty far. Before I knew it the whole northern lakes plan was out the tent window and we were now going to go for the coast. This was not a problem; actually, I was looking forward to it.

With a semi-firm plan we went to sleep and listened to the sprinkling rain hit the nylon rainfly covering our tent.

From Mountains to Coast

Gorham, New Hampshire—Acadia National Park, Maine

Again, we woke up kind of late today. It was about 11:30 by the time we were out of the bathrooms and ready to go. I think it's the cloudy skies that are causing us to sleep in. We stopped in the office and talked to a ranger outside. I asked him if he had any suggestions for sights to see in the area. He gave us a few but all of them were either too expensive or would take too much time. I wanted to do the Mt. Washington Auto Road but this was $15 for a car and one adult and $6 for each additional adult. No thanks. Especially if it's going to be overcast.

Then we asked him if he knew of any good places to eat. He immediately began raving about this place in town called the Loaf Around Bakery. "They bake their own bread and everything is homemade," he told us. He gave us the directions and we were off. We were hungry since we hadn't really eaten dinner yesterday.

The town of Gorham is a tourist town. In the winter it caters to skiers, in the summer the White Mountains attract many vacationers for various outdoor activities, and the autumn brings the foliage watchers. Many of the old buildings have been renovated which makes the town look very clean. A building nearby was dated 1858. We drove around hoping we would find our way to this Loaf Around Bakery. It is up a small side street, Exchange Street.

We walked into the place and it was very interesting looking. The inside was immaculate and the decor was very warm and personable. I think most restaurants, afraid of losing customers, go for the drab, generic decor and we've become so accustomed to this that when we find a place like this it's twice as special. This is a place that's not afraid to put up hand-written signs.

The menu is typed and contained some of the strangest sandwiches I'd ever seen. There were about 15 or 20 sandwiches, one that I remember: peanut butter-raisin-bacon. All of these, of course, are served on your choice of about 8 homemade breads with as many grains as you desire. The rest of the menu was just as interesting. I stayed with something safe, chicken salad on white. Suzanne got an omelet which I ended up finishing for her.

While we were waiting for our food, I overheard one of the locals warning someone before they entered the bathroom, "Careful, it hasn't been renovated since the late eighteen-hundreds." This would be interesting. Suzanne was the first to explore.

She came back with this to say: "You gotta go see it."

"Why?"

"You've just got to see it!"

So after we ate, I went to "wash my hands." In how many restaurants have you made it a point to see the bathroom of all places? I opened the hand-painted door which takes you to the hallway behind the counter. On the right is the bathroom door. I opened it and stepped into the room. It was very large for a bathroom, even by today's standards. It was a fully equipped bathroom with a cast iron bathtub with large feet. All the fixtures appeared to be originals. The toilet was, well... it'll take a few sentences to describe. First, it was the type with a pull-the-chain flusher and it was not just a toilet but a piece of furniture. It was not shaped like a toilet, but was basically a bench with a segment in the middle for you know what. The seat was made of wood (with a lot of varnish so as not to get splinters) and was above a tiny porcelain bowl resembling a slightly larger version of the dentist's spittoon. The seat was not like a circular ring we have today, but was a square with an oval cut out of the middle. This oval was not that large either, I don't think a particularly large person would be fully accommodated if you know what I mean. Right next to the seat was a cute hand-written poem that, in rhyme, requested that men sit for all occasions. The sink was old, separate hot and cold spigots, and the tub had a layer of dirt on the bottom. Quite a charmer. Later we noticed all the people in the place were wearing T-shirts with the old fashioned toilet on the back. Is this the symbol for the Loaf Around Bakery?

Before leaving, we had to sample the baked goods in the display case near the door, after all, this is a bakery and after the impression made thus far, how could we go wrong on the delectables in the display case? I got a lemon-cinnamon muffin while Suzanne got an apple turnover.

Although I could probably have sat in this place all day, we both knew we had to get going, so off we went. Continuing along US 2, which paralleled the Androscoggin River, we were soon in Maine. Although we've seen warnings about the many moose and bear in the area, we have yet to see one. By now it was apparent that it was going to be another cloudy day, at least it wasn't raining.

The first large town was Rumford, ME. Route 2 is like a maze through this town, winding around and around—it's like you're going in circles. There's also a paper plant in this town which begs the question: how do people live with this smell 24 hours a day? We couldn't stand it for 10 minutes. The next town was Farmington. This road was not too bad as far as traffic went. Not too many towns to slow you down. Suzanne said we should take ME 27 south, I didn't know if we'd passed it or not but it soon arrived, just in the nick of time: we had been behind a slow person for a while.

ME 27 shoots down to I-95 and Augusta. It was not crowded at all. Along the way Suzanne saw another interesting sign nailed on a tree. It simply said "HELL" with an arrow pointing down, Suzanne wanted a picture. Soon we were in Augusta, another state capital. We didn't see the Capitol but we did drive by the Civic Center; this was awfully exciting let me tell you. In Augusta, we picked up ME 3 which heads east toward Belfast and US 1. Actually, we visited many world-famous places in Maine, we drove through Mexico, West Peru, Vienna, Belgrade, Rome, South China, and Belfast. And looking at the map I can see Madrid, Denmark, Poland, Norway, Moscow, and Athens as well. Who knew all of this was up here in Maine?

I've been dreading Route 1. The traffic has not been too bad today but I knew this would change once we hit 1. And it did. We went over the scenic bridge at Bucksport, as I did on last year's trip, eventually making it to Ellsworth, the turn-off for Mount Desert Island and Acadia National Park. By the time we arrived at the visitor center, it was about 5:30 and, as I expected, it was closed. We picked up maps though and headed for the campground. We figured we'd try the closer campground, Blackwoods Campground. For some reason we didn't stay in this campground last year, it may have been closed for repair, perhaps we could stay there this year. Well, we drove all the way down there to find that it is a by-reservation-only campground, that's why we didn't stay there last year. No problem, we'd just have to drive a few more miles.

As the crow flies, Seawall Campground is just under 7 miles away, however, because there are no direct roads and we're on the other side of the island with Somes Sound separating the two sides, the trip by car is about 25 miles. It didn't help when we lost the road we were on. We stayed on ME 3 but once we entered the small town of Northeast Harbor, we somehow found ourselves in a neighborhood off the main road. We passed some incredible houses, some very old, some just being built. It appeared as though we were driving parallel to the water. The only marked road on our map, besides ME 3, was Sargent Drive. We soon saw a sign for this road but weren't sure which way to turn, I guess we'd find out soon enough. This road is part of the park and hugs the eastern bank of Somes Sound, later meeting up with Route 3.

It turns out we did turn the right way and, in the end, I was glad we got lost because this is a very scenic road that Sergio and I did not find last year. Along the way I stopped at one of those roadside information signs put up by the park. This sign told us we were looking at the only fjord in the eastern U.S.

"What is a fjord, anyway?" Suzanne asked.

"It's... umm, well if you have a river...," I was trying to think, eventually resorting to, "I don't know." Now I'm able to pull out the dictionary and look it up: a long narrow inlet from the sea between two high cliffs. Looking back on things I wouldn't say there were two high cliffs but there were two mountains of rock on either side. Anyway, after driving all the way around Somes Sound, we turned south on ME 102 and drove down the west bank of the sound, through Southwest Harbor, and finally reaching Seawall Campground. We tried to find a good site but it was difficult. There were only about four other groups in this loop of the campground so that was not a problem. The problem was water. We stayed in the D loop which offers cheaper walk-in sites, some are 10 to 20 yards away from the parking area, others are hundreds of yards away.

We walked and walked looking for a decent site. The problem was that there was water everywhere. With water, of course, comes mosquitoes. I would go so far as to say it was swampy; there were some sites that you couldn't get to because of the large pools of water. We chose one that was very wet but there was no standing water in our way. There was one part of the path between the site and the car where there was a pool of water but there were two cement blocks to step on. I don't know where they came from because this was the only site we'd seen that had these, presumably for walking on. I was glad they were there because if it were to rain tonight there would probably be a large pool of water out there tomorrow morning.

We set the tent up and went to see the seawall before it got dark. There was no one at the seawall except for two guys having a conversation in the parking area, both were sitting in their pickup trucks which were running. This was a bit strange I thought. It was getting very foggy now, you could see the fog rolling in off the water. We climbed around for a while, I took some pictures, and Suzanne was admiring the rocks.

Next we set off to get something to eat. I remembered that there was not too much around this part of the island, everything in Southwest Harbor was a bit dressy so we decided to go to Bar Harbor to find something. We parked the car and walked around the streets surrounding the town square. This is where the main tourist-type places are. There are many places to choose from and we ended up eating at an Italian place. We got a pizza with tomato and mushrooms. The pizzas that other people were getting looked very good, homemade even. There was a slight delay due to a pizza jam in the oven, too many pizzas to cook, but once it hit the table it was great.

After dinner we walked around a bit contemplating the many ice cream parlors nearby. We stopped in one and I got peanut butter swirl, which was very good. We sat on a bench and ate our ice cream while the people walked by. It was now about 9 o'clock and it seemed as though the adults were going to bed and the kids were coming out. Less gray-haired, sweater wrapped around the neck types; more dyed-hair, tattooed types along with their loud music. We walked back to the car and drove the 15 or 20 mile ride home. It began sprinkling a bit on the way home. Hope we could get to the tent before the deluge.

Saxtons River

Acadia National Park, Maine—Saxtons River, Vermont

We woke up around 9 this morning with the threat of a 10 o'clock checkout time. This, however, was not too strict since there were only a handful of people in the park this early in the season. There was a puddle of water sitting on top of the rainfly. It was not raining now but it had overnight and those cement blocks now were very useful. We used the bathrooms and cleaned up as best we could. Suzanne and I were invited to dinner tonight by some of Suzanne's friends from last year so we wanted to look somewhat presentable.

Because we drove all the way out here, I was determined to see something while we were here. So we drove to the Park Loop Road and up to the 1,530-feet summit of Cadillac Mountain, the highest peak on the Atlantic coast. Once at the top, it was a lot windier which made it much cooler. I was one of the few wearing shorts; most people had jackets on. There was some Corvette show up here, there were about a dozen Corvettes parked in the parking lot. We walked around on the small loop trail that encircled the summit. It was so windy though that we didn't stay too long. I don't think I even took a picture.

Soon we were on our way. Today we would have to make some serious time. We wanted to get to Saxtons River in order to meet Suzanne's friends for dinner. We headed off the island, past all the tourist attractions that line the entrance road to the park. Once in Ellsworth it was about noon so rather than take US 1, we jumped on US 1A which goes northwest to Bangor and I-95. We stayed on 95 for the rest of the trip through Maine. It was about 180 miles from Bangor to the New Hampshire border.

Once we made it to New Hampshire, we were hungry. We really hadn't eaten yet today, so we started looking. Suzanne saw a Burger King but I don't like that place so she was nice enough to wait for a place that would make us both happy. I was looking for a Wendy's but would have settled for anything if we didn't find something soon. We got off I-95 and onto NH 101 just before the toll. This is a road with absolutely nothing on it. Just trees; no strip malls, no houses. Not until we got to Manchester did we see any sign of civilization. We finally ate and soon was back on the road and heading for Milford.

As we were driving away from the outskirts of Milford, and the road was beginning to open up, we had a slight delay. As we were merrily rolling along, driving toward us was the driver's enemy; the constable on patrol, the local sheriff, a bluecoat, a copper, a flatfoot, the fuzz, the heat, insert your favorite 70s slang term here. I was driving noticeably fast and he picked up on that. So he turned around and flipped on the Christmas lights.

The last time I'd been pulled over was 1987; the outcome of that engagement was not a victory for the home team. Coincidentally, Suzanne was with me that day too. I was hoping today would not make the record 0-2. One thing I knew I had on my side was that there was no proof. The cop was relying on his eyes to judge my speed and I don't think courts put too much merit in this. He approached the car and said, "Are you in a hurry, sir?" They always call you sir, what is the deal with that? I replied, "No, not particularly." He said he was stopping me for doing 60 in a 40 mile per hour zone. I told him I didn't think I was doing 60 but graciously handed over my license and registration. You have to say that to put up some sort of resistance, even if you were doing 65, you're still not lying. He went to the cruiser and did the background check. All the while I was pretty confident that I would not be getting a ticket since he really had no proof. Minutes later he returned to inform me that he was not going to ruin my day, and that I should take it easy so as not to clip someone coming out of one of the many side streets ahead. He didn't even write up a formal warning slip, just sent us on our way.

Don't get me wrong, my attitude toward this kind of thing is not really as negative as it seems. I will admit that it was probably a good thing that we were stopped since it was wet and, at times, foggy and perhaps we were going too fast, although I always had control of the vehicle. If he'd decided to give us a ticket, I might have a different opinion, but he didn't, so I look upon the incident favorably. Record: 1-1.

After our brief rest stop, we climbed into the mountains, the clouds, and the rain. Once in Keene, we stopped for a bathroom break and turned north on NH 12 which headed for the Connecticut River and Bellows Falls, the "big" town outside of Saxtons River. It seemed to take forever to get there knowing we were about 20 miles away. We crossed the river at Walpole, then went north on US 5 into Bellows Falls. Now we were close. A few miles on VT 121 and we would be there.

As we pulled into the house where Suzanne was going to stay for the summer, we rolled out of the car and went in. Suzanne stayed here last year so this was a reunion for her while I was making my first impression with no shower and the staleness of driving all day. It was about 6:30 by now so we'd been driving for a long time. I was introduced to Mel (short for Melanie) whose house I'd be staying in tonight. Her kids, Emily and Austin were also here. Austin is about 6 or 8 years old and Emily is maybe 10 or 12. Austin became the doorman while we dumped our stuff in the house. Mel gave us the tour and told Suzanne where she would be sleeping for the rest of the summer.

The house is old, the type with a large front porch and huge trees adjacent. The inside is a delight. Because Mel is an artist, she fills the house with creativity. The decor is composed of her and her children's artwork. There are many little things around the house tucked into corners and on surfaces. For example, the refrigerator is literally covered with things: pictures, drawings, magnets, etc. You can barely tell what color it is. The wooden spoon handles are all painted with designs and bright colors.

Suzanne called her friends Darryl and Stephanie, who invited us for dinner tonight, to see when they wanted us to come and tell us how to get there. Their daughter, Sarah, took a liking to Suzanne, as most kids do when performing with Suzanne in the theater.

We threw our stuff in Mel's house and got back in the car (can you believe it) to drive to Bellows Falls where Darryl and Stephanie live. We arrived at their house and sat down at the kitchen table while Stephanie made dinner. We talked for a while, mainly about the upcoming theater season and last year's season. We had fajitas for dinner and Dylan had macaroni, most of which ended up on his shirt, Dylan is probably about 2 or 3 years old. While we were eating, Mel dropped in with Suzanne's roommate for the summer, Krystyne. She had picked her up from the bus stop in Bellows Falls and decided to drop by. They didn't stay for dinner though.

After dinner we talked some more while watching Dylan. He was very active, running around with a paper bag on his head, dumping his basket of toys, and requesting that everyone try on this hideous Santa Claus mask. It looked like the type of mask that would bring fear into little children's hearts rather than spread the joy of Christmas. I commented that Dylan is more entertaining than TV but I would imagine the enjoyment of the whole thing wears off quickly if you experience it 24/7.

After finally getting away, we drove back to Mel's, where Mel, Krystyne, and Jamie (returning from last summer's season) were talking at her kitchen table. We all talked for a while until Jamie had to go. Then Suzanne, Krystyne and I went up to their room to try and sort through all their stuff. They decided to take the bunk beds apart and move the furniture around that night. After the dust settled, I had a place to sleep on the floor among all the bags of clothes, shoes, etc. We went to bed around 1-ish and they had to get up at 7:30 tomorrow morning for first rehearsal. Good luck.

Heading Home

Saxtons River, Vermont—Berwyn, Pennsylvania

Today was another day of driving. I was barely awake when Suzanne and Krystyne left this morning. I heard Falko, the theater producer and owner, come to pick them up this morning. By the time I awoke, everyone was gone. I went downstairs and took a shower. I made the mistake of doing the usual routine once my shower was over. I usually dry and get dressed in my room, not in the steaming bathroom. However, once I got up to Suzanne's room, I remembered the door was not on yet. I didn't think anyone was home, but you're never sure.

After I packed my things I walked down to the market at the end of their block. I got another supply of pop-tarts (Suzanne's original supply was finished off yesterday), and one of the Vermont stuffed pretzels that Suzanne raved about. The pretzel was not too bad; I got the apple cinnamon kind. I walked back in the sprinkling rain, left a note thanking Mel, got in the car, and left Saxtons River. It was exactly 11 in the morning when I left.

It was going to be an interstate day, I could tell, but there may be a few short scenic drives perhaps. I went south on I-91 to Brattleboro and then turned west on VT 9. This was the same road we were on earlier this week. Eventually I would pass the park where we camped the first night and, once again, drive through Bennington. Once in New York, I drove into Troy. Here I would cross the Hudson and get I-787 south through Watervliet, passing by the Watervliet Arsenal and City Hall. After passing through Albany, 787 took me to the New York Thruway, I-87 (another toll).

I was on this road for a while. I wasn't really speeding today. I figured I had all day, so why waste the gas and be pressured by the rat-race of cars found on the interstates. So I stayed around 72 or 73 miles per hour and just cruised at that speed. I was caught in a few downpours today, pretty bad. I wanted to get off at exit 15, but on my two-year-old map there was a road under construction which, if finished, would be a fast way through New Jersey, I thought. When I got to the toll, I asked if this road had been completed, the answer was yes, thankfully. This would connect me to I-287 which is a bypass around New York City. The problem was that it was about 4 in the afternoon by now and there was a lot of construction so it was clogged. Passed by Morristown National Park and Jockey Hollow, places we used to go when we lived in Chester.

Will I ever get to I-78? This road was beginning to get on my nerves--everyone wanting to go 100 miles per hour and with thin lanes and a slow speed limit. The last time we took I-78 west it was pretty empty as far as traffic goes. Not the case today. I took this road all the way to the first exit across the Delaware in Pennsylvania. Rather than go through the Allentown/Bethlehem mess I decided to get off on PA 611. This is the Delaware River Scenic Roadway, and it lived up to its name while I was on it. The problem was I was behind someone doing about 5 or 10 miles per hour below the speed limit.

I turned off 611 onto PA 212 which wound its way southwest to Quakertown. I'd heard about this town for a while and thought it was a large Allentown-sized town but the map shows it to be a small town. Upon arrival, it is larger than the map led me to believe. It has sections that are very urban and industrial, reminding me of Philly around the stadiums. It was about 5:30 by now and the rush hour traffic was flowing.

I made it through the town and jumped on the PA Turnpike (PA 9) south to the Blue Route (I-476) and Villanova, which is considered home. I arrived at about 7 o'clock and wasn't too late for dinner. It had been a long day of driving and I was hot. I took another shower before dinner and unpacked the stuff. Everything needed to be cleaned, but this had to be done at some point, I guess. Now the question arises, how is Suzanne going to get back to New York at the end of the summer?

Conclusion

This was one of the oddest trips I think I've taken. Usually if it's going to be a camping trip, it's a camping trip. However, this trip was spent in the heart of New York City for a while, then inside a tent for a few days, and finally in Saxtons River. The contrast between the noise and insanity of the New York streets and subway, the serenity of the mountains and camping, and the welcoming feeling one gets from Saxtons River is quite an interesting combination of environments to sample over a week's time.

We really didn't spend too much money either. This is good since neither of us really has any to spend.

GAS	62.27
LODGING	35.00
FOOD	104.84
TOLLS	18.75
PARKING	19.00
SUBWAY	4.50
SHOWERS	1.50
TOTAL	245.86

We drove a total of 1,747 miles and our average gas mileage was 38.7, not too bad I'd say. I hadn't given the car a good run since the summer of '94 trip. It out performed itself, let's hope it keeps up the good work. It was nice being with Suzanne after such a long time. It had been a while since the two of us were together and this trip certainly made up for that since we were side-by-side for five days straight. Didn't take too many pictures. This, I guess, is normal for me, I don't know why though. I think we only took about 5 or 6 shots. The weather could have been better but at least it wasn't blazingly hot. In New York City it was nice and sunny but once we left, nothing but clouds and occasional rain. It could have rained more, at least we didn't have to put up or take down the tent in the rain. Anyway, it's sort of nice sitting in the tent and listening to the rain.

This could be the last trip for a while since I'm going off to graduate school. You never know though, perhaps I'll be able to squeeze in a few short trips here and there. I still want to see northern Pennsylvania and this is sort of on the way toward school. We will see. Hopefully, I'll be writing another installment next summer.