man. It’s been a good trip.
And that’s where I thought that my woes had ended. I had thought that as soon as I got home I’d get my car and drive and all would be well in the universe. Unfortunately, someone out there hates me. Despises me, in fact. Because the entire trip I’d been trying to keep spending low-ish because I knew I’d need the money. The parking garage I parked at charged 15 dollars a day, I figured I’d be gone for 36 hours, wouldn’t be too much of a big deal, I’d still be able to buy dinner en route home. But they charged me for two full days. Which wiped my wallet clean. I had no money.
And I had toll roads ahead of me.
My grandmother doesn’t live too far from Manchester, NH. I can get from there home without hitting toll roads. Maybe if I can make it there...
The atlas doesn’t help. I can’t remember what routes I take or any of that crap. I pull into a convenience store, haven of route knowledge in New England, and politely enquire for a way to some route that will ferry me home. But no one can help me. This is not supposed to happen. This is supposed to be the one place you can reliably go for directions, and no one knows how to get anywhere. How do they get home at night?
So, I get in my car and sit and stare at my atlas in the parking lot, hoping a route will appear before me. Then I hear some saintly women asking, “Where are you trying to go?” I say, “Maine, near Portland, but I can’t take any toll roads, I’m broke.”
“Sure, I can get you there. I go to the coast all the time.”
Thank God.
She starts explaining a route to me, then asks if I want to go the direct route or not.
“As direct as possible, under the circumstances.”
“How much money do you have?”
“None. Flat out none.”