We left the sorta run-down, slightly ratty, but reasonably priced Comfort Inn in Runnymede NJ after another big manly breakfast about 9:15, headed back north on the Jersey Turnpike, where you pay for every mile you drive. And soon encountered the first billboard I have ever seen that encourages the population to be prepared by always having condoms on hand. "The sleek, discreet way to travel". yikes.
Tooling along, we soon found ourselves approaching New York City. It was really pretty neat, looking out over the flatland and water and seeing a very recognizable skyline. The only thing I was sure about was the Empire State Building, with a very unique silhouette. And numerous other buildings that had to be close to 100 floors in height to even be discernible from the distance we were viewing: still in NJ, on I-95, miles away from the actual city.
Along about here, there was so much anxiety about the little rolling chair strapped down on the back, he pulled over on the edge of the road to check and be sure it was sufficiently secure. Which I guess it was, after he tightened up all the straps a notch, and got back in to brave the NYC roads. Which were actually not bad (I can easily make this claim as I was not driving, and could just gawk like a hick.)
There are few places to get across the river, and if you are indecisive in traffic up here... well you can imagine the result! You either take the bridge or go through a tunnel. We did some of both. And safely got through the city, which if you have noticed on a map, kinda is a relatively narrow spit of land, hemmed in between NJ on one side and squarish Conn. on the other. So though it could have been very stressful, it actually did not take very long to maneuver. Mostly due to the fact that if you have to do it, common sense tells you to wait until Sunday morning, when the traffic would be at the lowest point:even if that should cause you to wait six days for Sunday to come around again!
Something interesting I noticed several times when we were buzzing along, was some huge, grass-covered hills, usually pretty close to the interstate. After a bit of pondering, I concluded that the large, low-lying, and geometrically perfect are actually man made, and in all liklihood are the city dump. Having noticed a oddly located mountain, perfectly manicured traveling across the south edge of Atlanta, that is obviously a land-fill, I am sure the meticulously manicured hills we have passed up here in the northeast are monstrous piles of refuse that have been carefully covered, and left to sit for the next ten-thousand years. Some had pipes embedded in the surface of the curve, to vent off gases as the garbage slowly decomposes, but as tightly packed as that mess is, it will still be mostly intact until the end of time. The are quite attractive, covered with lush grass, and possibly used for some form of recreation like walking, biking, but when you think about walking around a mountain of other people's trash, it's kinda icky.
I told him when we headed across the George Washington Bridge that he should make an effort to enjoy the ninety second ride as much as he enjoyed the scenery during the one hundred miles he drove the length on Jersey on the turnpike, since the toll for the bridge, and the price of getting off the turnpike were the same. Along about here is where I persuaded him to be willing to ask the money takers for a receipt. If we can't deduct it, it will make a nice bookmark/fire starter.
Note to self: Add 'Statue of Liberty' to bucket list. And do not drive to get to NYC.
Now would be a good time to admit that the atlas with state maps we were using to navigate was actually printed in 1995. So I was guessing there might be highways, bridges, possible short-cuts that were not on the obsolete map I was using as my primary navigational tool. I did not have a multi-fold state road map of NJ while we were there. Though I asked at three places, he finally said: let's just go with what we got.
We got through NYC, and stopped in Conn. for a break and to get a map at the welcome center.
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