We didn't have time to get a pic to prove it, but we looked exactly like this only Trish's car is blue.
Four humans, one Pekingese, two kitties, two suitcases, two computer cases, assorted odds and ends. Yes. The above pic captures the trip.
Pat builds catapults and dreams of building old-fashioned wooden boats someday. Not the kind you put in a bottle, the kind you put on the water with people in them. He knows a lot about everything. Pat and Trish both have Long Island accents and it was music to our northeastern ears. Trish has a mischief twinkle in her eyes, somehow not a surprise. She was surprised that her dog really really likes me.
Every single person we met while in PA was exceptionally nice. The weather was perfection once again, bright and gusty. Nothing to report from Joisey, just endless interstate with a lovely view of the noise wall barriers and, yes, Jersey Barriers.
Went over the amazing Tappan Zee Bridge across the mighty Hudson River, we hope the pics come out, we were flying so I don't know.
And, for all who have wondered where they might purchase a new brain, we discovered the secret place - it's on the right after the Tappan Zee, a big warehousey-looking place with big letters on it - BRAEN SUPPLY. I think they're having a two-fer-one sale right now.
Then the signs started for things like: New England. New York. omg. I not only see my own clouds but now my own trees and lay of the land.
Then into New York (!!!!!!!!!) and past Chappaqua, where the Clintons, well one of them, reside. Then Mt. Kisco, which is the weirdest mix of big/old money and downtrodden ever. Almost out of gas, Pat . . . REFUSES TO STOP AND ASK SOMEONE WHERE IS THE GAS STATION. ahem.
All in the mini-car grow quiet as the gauge drops and drops and we circle and circle and turn around and waste gas. At the last possible moment we find a gas station. Pat insists it has to be the only one IN Mt. Kisco since it's the only one he could find.
Somewhere before that we stopped at KFC, not KTC, where the entire United Nations was represented, disgruntled, and the service was, uh, leisurely. But lunch was yummy, we ate in the car on the way. Chopper the Dog got leftovers and life was good.
Then Connecticut, which is so small you get through it in about ten seconds. Route 684, through Danbury, Waterbury (featured in Ken Burns'
The War), Hartford, and I'm on home territory. Trish can finally put away her map and I can navigate from my squished hamster cage in the back. (I'm three inches shorter now than I was this morning in PA.)
In Hartford on to 91 North and in Springfield MA in no time. And home. A snow squall greeted us as we came into my old neighborhood where I'll be staying. Perfect.
more later.