The Drive
We tried to leave at 5:30, which became 6:30, which would be crucial later on.
Each state had a different personality as we passed through. Michigan had more traffic on the interstate at 7 a.m. on Saturday than either Ohio or Pennsylvania later on. It was baffling. Oh, and the shitty roads. Far worse than any other state we passed through.
Ohio had it's magnificent, well-maintained tollway. I suspect it might be the best part of Ohio, but having only been to Dayton, I have no real data to back that up with. Regardless, their travel plazas and road quality were impressive.
Pennsylvania, even from the interstate, was beautiful. Long, rolling hills, beautiful scenery, plenty of rivers. Even the traffic was calm.
Then we passed into New Jersey, and all hell broke loose. Cross the state lines and we were immediately getting passed at 95 MPH by every third driver, it seemed. Freeway chaos, and also 2-4 lanes were added so it was even more of a scramble.
When we got to NYC, it was still light, but fading fast, and then we got backed up (no surprise). It started raining, too, as we were trying to get into all the right lanes for the George Washington bridge. I was driving, but C was reading text directions at the same time, which saved me at least twice from making a mistake.
So, 13.5 hours later, we turned onto our block. And got lost. It was raining harder, and C had only been to our place once (and not in the dark), and the houses on the street look similar. We went down the wrong alley--my God, alleys are tight here--and then spent a nail-biting fifteen minutes fitting into our parking space in the garage (garages--also very tight). C's daughter walked over and directed me into the garage after dozens of little adjustments. I don't think I would have made it myself, because I was exhausted by that point.
We did, though, and our place is beautiful.
Here's one other thing I noticed on the drive. In Michigan, there were a ton of those absolutely giant F-150s (the kind where the grille is taller than C) and people on loud, annoying motorcycles.
I dislike both of those. Intensely.
As we drove east, though, the numbers of both lessened, state by state. By the time we hit New York, the trucks (what few there were) were much smaller, and the number of motorcycles was almost zero.
I know it won't be perfect here, but I told C that this was the pessimist's version of optimism: I'm ready for a new set of things to annoy me.
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