Back Roads, Charming Towns : Retirement, Relocation, Vacation : Back Roads, Charming Towns Blog : Vikki Grodner

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Somehow it seems appropriate to begin this blog in conjunction with a holiday associated with family, friends and fun, all things we hope will be enhanced by your visits to Back Roads, Charming Towns.

With my sister and daughter in tow, we took a 12-hour road trip today, the Saturday of Independence Day weekend. We ruled out the beach (we knew that would surely be a shore bottleneck) and the Amish country (the "monsoon of June" had just swept the Delaware River over the banks of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, leaving a soggy, muddy mess by Saturday). We opted for the Catskills and specifically, the village of Woodstock. While there was the anticipated traffic on the New York Thruway, it was only when we got to Exit 16 that matters went from bopping to bleak.  

The traffic that has gone from halting to a slow roll was the first physical sign. The next was the large neon sign that trumpeted ACCIDENT AFTER EXIT 18. Since we had been cruising along, belting out lyrics to the CD of country music that my daughter had burned prior to the trip, at first it seemed like a momentary inconvenience. As the minutes rolling into units marked by half hours -- while we never could run out of things to talk about, the three of us -- this part of the adventure became a little less pleasing. We should have, of course, been following my own advice and been taking the back roads, but at this point we were trapped with miles and miles of other overheated travellers between us and the nearest exit.

While it was tempting to do the unthinkable at some point and drive on the shoulder (this is indeed unthinkable, I know, I know, and was reinforced by the four cars we eventually passed who had been stopped by the state trooper for doing this very thing), we perservered until we reached the rest area. While this still didn't get us off the thruway -- we knew we had to return to the madness eventually -- it did provide a much needed rest, snack and sanity break.

And this was the part that was most meaningful. We developed a camraderie with the other travellers stuck in the same predicament. We shared tidbits of information on how far it was to the next exit, to our final destination. We discussed the merits and routes to be taken if one chose to get off this highway of wasted moments and travel those aforementioned back roads. And we even did a little shopping -- the sunglass stand had a 4th of July "buy three, get the fourth pair free" special. Sheri, Stirling and I giggled at the outrageous options available in the sunglass bargain bin. We evaluated the choices that remained viable. And in the end, we all actually walked away with a few pairs. Stirling favored the round white Olsen-ish frames. I found a pair that was practical tortoise shell and another that was a blushing pink frameless (some true rose-colored glasses to put the day into perspective). And Sheri, she went with the lime green pair, that few could pull off but that were totally right for her.

The biggest miracle of all was that the traffic largely cleared and when we did have to deal with a few more lurches and starts, it didn't seem to be as troublesome. We had stopped, recharged our batteries, met Trish, the cute girl at the sunglass stand (who will graduate from high school next year, the first in her family she proudly reported), and were set for when we did make it to our final destination, albeit two hours late. But as we all know, sometimes the journey can be as memorable as the final destination.