Saturday, August, 11, 2012
So we got up the next morning, in Burlington NC, (fortunately no tornadoes, so in the same place we went to bed, instead of falling out of the sky in Oz), and mosey-ed on up to the free continental breakfast. Where some of us,despite sleeping practically Not, had a big plow-hand meal. Enough carbs to knock me out for 24 hours, but he ate and was ready to travel.
My brother called, and told us where to stop near Richmond to meet.
We got back on I-85 and headed north. Stopped about where I-85 and I-95 merge, at a (guess what?) Cracker Barrel for whatever meal one eats an hour an a half after a big breakfast.
Had a nice visit, and gave them a box of photos I have been trying to pass along for over a year. We left the CB about 12:30, with the driver who ate another big meal, and soon reported he was very tired, but got back on the road toward DC. Which we cleverly avoided, when we got off on a four lane that veered off east, bypassing all the congestion of the District. Though it had about 243 traffic lights, we did avoid going through Washington.
Headed on into Maryland, and then got across Delaware in about twenty minutes. Kept encountering toll bridges, and toll roads, though I am pretty sure that my tax dollars paid for all those great big wide interestate highways and overpasses - so I guess they must think I just fell off the turnip truck, to be paying for them over and over again. I finally told him he needed to quit being so chipper, friendly, hail-fellow-well-met with the toll both attendant and ask for a receipt, as I am pretty sure that the fees for tolls as well as parking are deductible from taxes. Any way - he finally did start requesting a receipt, especially when he was paying $12 a hit to those cute little money takers. So I'll keep them together, add to my collection, and hope that the CPA will agree that they are legitimate. (Probably only when associated with business: does mental health count as maybe a medical deduction?)
He meant to stop driving in Delaware, but got across the state so quickly, he found himself on the New Jersey Turnpike before I could say: Wait! We buzzed along on the Turnpike until he decided he was so tired he needed to quit, and turned off. We exited the turnpike ($2.50 please) at 6:30 in the quaint little burg of Runnymede. It looked just like what I thought a town in NJ would: a bar or tavern at most every intersection. What else do they have to do when it snows and they are stuck inside? And a store that sells bar-stools on the opposite corner of the intersection, so I guess they do so much sitting they wear out a lot of barstools?
P. kept telling me that Runnymede was the site of a Civil War battle. What does he know? He was born in Pennsylvania. I responded with the fact that it was not so much an American event, as he probably remembered it from some Robin Hood movie he saw, where the King had his advantage taken once again.
Just like my traveling companion: to ask for a suggestion and not take the advice he asked for. He requested info. about a good place to eat from the desk clerk, and decided to not go there. So instead of the locally recommended Diner, we ate at a little Italian place with plastic grapes, leaves, vines dramatically draped around the windows, along with blue and red blinking rope lights. He ordered some veal (sad, mistreated little thing), and I thought the spinach ravioli sounded interesting. It might have been, under different lighting. But when the food arrived: the pasta on my plate appeared to be about the same color as the turquoise stones in my bracelet. At first I thought it was just the lighting, then thought it was due to the spinach. But it was actually that color - way much too blue-ish to be left over from St. Patrick's Day. I have No Idea why it was such a strange color. I was so weary, I ate it without further ado. I was pleasantly surprised. It was good - or maybe my taste buds had got as numb as my backside from hours of travel?
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