Target-rich environment

30 May, 2013
(It's taken me this long to get this down. I wasn't kidding about how much spare time I have there days...)

Mrs. Murphy's Doughnuts in Southwick, MA, makes something they call a Cheeseburg Chowder.

It's a cream chowder with ground beef, cheese, and elbow macaroni. And it actually does taste a little like a cheeseburger, if you're not into condiments. I like my lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise, but how they'd do in a soup I don't know.

And apparently I am in New England. The only place I ever saw ground beef on a bun called a "hamburg" was in a slapstick detective story from the Thirties, set in Massachusetts. Thus I confirm both where I am and how slowly the language changes. Educational, ain't it?

Yesterday was educational in a whole 'nother way. I drove through the middle of New York City in the middle of the evening rush hour.

It wasn't my idea.
Coming from that part of Pennsylvania, the usual (dare I say, "sensible"?) path goes further north before swinging east. Bypass Gotham City and all its craziness completely. The state of Pennsylvania even advises it--on great big billboards.

But of course that would waste fuel--maybe even three or four gallons! So I was instructed to take the environmentally correct route--straight through the middle of Manhattan.

Into the maze
I-95 North, across the George Washington Bridge, down and around and back around the other way. Stay in the middle lane--some of those old bridges have graceful arches that'll rip the top off your trailer if you don't shoot right up the middle.

No tunnels, though the brick canyons and endless strings of bridges will make you swear you were in one. Lanes one foot wider than your rig--steer small.

And thousands of people in cars and vans and dump trucks, all of whom just know you're hiding enough space to fit them. All they have to do is squeeze past you and cut in--and they'll be a whole twenty feet closer to where they're going.

All that I expected. This wasn't my first trench run. But 5:30 pm on a weekday? What new horrors awaited me?

Well--
--nothing, as it turned out.

I-95 through Manhattan seems to be the same at rush hour as it is any other time. I have no idea why.

Granted, that's bad enough. But I didn't lose much more time--or sanity--at 5:30 pm than at 10:30 am. Made my escape into Connecticut pretty much the way I always do, with more time to find parking than expected.

Good thing, too. The only truck stop within thirty miles of the customer makes you pay for the privilege of parking--and it was still completely full. An hour before I expect to have that problem anywhere but New England.

Paranoia is the only reason I'm parked now. With visions of New York at rush hour dancing in my head, I called the truck stop from New Jersey and spent even more money reserving a spot (this particular chain will take your money for that). The traffic wasn't that bad, but the parking was worse.

So I was wrong twice, but it still worked out. I'll take that.