Today's road trip was one of those trips that make me happy to have a blog about trips. Especially delightful is the fact that Rand McNally was involved.
Today was Monday, after a 97-day weekend - my first day back at Sherwin Williams. As I went to hang up my coat, I glanced at the delivery boards. None at all, all week. I was disappointed, since deliveries are really the only part of the job I truly enjoy. So I mentioned it: "No deliveries," I said. "Oh yes there are!" said Diane the manager. So I was shown the three-deep pile of delivery orders and told that she and Carrie (the new 'third key' employee) had just about gotten them together. So I took all the trash in the building to the dumpster and returned to the front a while later. My mind was scrambling to remember how to enter delivery info into the computer and get the appropriate paperwork to print. The twenty gallons of laquer needed two bills of lading, always fun to diddle up. It took longer than it should have, but I got 'er done. Then I asked about the hand-written address on one order for a company callen N. D. Rustic Furniture. "Oh, Vinnie told him we'd deliver there today. Vinnie's out sick. I'll see if I can print you a map." A map might have been good.
So Diane went on her computer and came back with a set of directions from Rand McNally dot com. They were easy enough. Go out the main highway west to Perry Highway (where Route 19 turns south,) go twelve point six miles, turn right on Lake Road, go three miles and turn left on Dodge Road. Point seven miles later, you're there at 105 Dodge Road! Twenty point one miles total. Easy Peasy. So, I took my laquer, my paperwork and my directions and headed out.
I knew that if I took the much faster Interstate 79 to the next exit south, I'd be in the vicinity of my destination, so that's what I did. I got on Route 19 and kept a sharp lookout for Lake Road. And Whoa! There it was! I whizzed by it almost before I saw it. About a mile down the road I found a place to turn around. Back I went to Lake Road and turned. Keeping a close watch on the odometer, I looked for Dodge Road as three miles rolled up. No left turn there. There had been an unmatked dirt (ice and mud, really) road a few tenths earlier, and another a few tenths after, but I wasn't willing to set out into the woods on a sloppy road based on the vague hope of it being right. I pressed on. I reached the road to Atlantic and was sure now I'd gone too far.
I pulled over and whipped out my cell phone. Hurrah, there was a signal, even way out here in Amish country! I called the number without much hope. Amish customers often give a phone number of a neighbor or friend who really isn't much help when push comes to shove. This one rang six times and was picked up by an answering machine. I left a message, knowing full well that there was no point. I continued on, looking for a place to turn around, saw a couple of guys shingling a roof, and pulled in there.
"Hey," I called, "do you happen to know where Dodge Road is?" They didn't, but they said I should knock on the door and ask the residents. I did. They had not heard of Dodge Road, or N. D. Rustic Furniture, but they had computers up and running, so John invited me in to look at the detailed map he called up from somewhere. He showed me that there is another Lake Road down in Mercer County, in Sheakleyville. He showed me a convoluted series of secondary roads (paved??!) that would get me there. "And that is US 19 there." I thanked him very much and told him to come on down to Sherwin Williams for paint. "Say hello to Vinnie for us," he said. He's been there.
I eschewed the secondary roads and tore out for 19. I turned right, drove three miles to Sheakleyville, and kept a sharp watch out for Lake Road over in Mercer County. There were a couple of unmarked roads to the right, but no Lake Road. I pulled in to a gas station and went inside. Why yes, the mechanic under the car on the lift HAD heard of Dodge Road. "Just go back north on 19, and turn left at the Church of the Nazarene." I asked if it was unmarked. "Probably. But that's Lake Road. Turn left and go about five miles. If you come to County Line Road, you went too far, turn around and come back a ways." I thanked him very much and set out again. The road was indeed unmarked, but there were a couple of mail boxes in front of houses with numbers and Lake Road stickered on. At three miles there was a dirt road off to the left. I kept going until a few tenths later I came to County Line Road. I returned to the unmarked dirt road and turned right.
The first barn I came to had a mailbox out front that had '145 Dodge' stickered on it. Yay. I continued to the next barn, with a house set back at the end of a gravel driveway. There were no numbers anywhere, but there were an Amish mother and three-year-old boy walking toward the house. And there was a car parked in front! I turned into the driveway and, seeing no-one around the barn, headed for the house. The mother quickened her pace, as if she were afraid of me. I stopped way short and climbed out. "Excuse me," I said. "May I ask you a question?" She stopped and turned around. "I don't know if I'll know the answer," she replied. "I'm looking for 105 Dodge Road," I said. "This is it," she said. "N. D. Rustic Furniture?" I asked. "That's my husband," she said. Jackpot! She said I should put the laquer in the barn, and I did.
Rand McNally: 20.1 miles, fifty minutes. Reality: 43 miles, ninety three minutes. If the directions had said "Drive to Sheakleyville, turn right at the Church of the Nazarene and left at the last dirt road before County Line Road, things would have gone much smoother. Evidenly, Rand McNally doesn't know everything.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
Texas Toast
Carmen's mother and father live in a beautiful house in a huge subdivision in Crosby, Texas, a bedroom community outside Houston. We've been there a few times here in The Gospel. We stopped there overnight on the way to the Grand Canyon in 1993. We and the cats stopped in for three days on the way to Albuquerque. I'm sure you remember.
Since they have lived there, they have added Carmen's younger sister Jamie to the household, as well as Jamie's daughter Brittany, now sixteen. Three years ago, Jamie's daughter Brooke was born, adding a lively new dynamic to an already quite dynamic household. So a few months ago they added a bulldog puppy, now five months old and forty pounds. His name is Shadow. He's big, he's a puppy.
On the day after Christmas, we flew to Houston, with a plane change in Philadelphia. To add to the adventure, we took advantage of a Hampton Inn offer: we spent the night there near Pittsburgh Airport, left our vehicle there and took the courtesy van to the airport. That way we didn't have to set out for the airport at 5:00am, and the cost was about the same as leaving the car in the airport parking garage. Win win, with one minor exception - as we approached the hotel we looked for something to eat at 5:00pm on Christmas Day. Nothing. Not McDonalds or Burger King or Cracker Barrel or Bob Evans or a grocery store or even a Walgreens. Nothing! We asked at the desk as we checked in. The only place they knew about was Domino's Pizza, a Republican stronghold. Eeeew. So we had a (damn it!) pretty durn yummy pizza for supper in our quite comfortable hotel room.
Overnight Carmen was overcome with the urge to purge, so she was able to eliminate one bag from our carry-on load. She left it in the car. Yay.
The courtesy van loaded us up at 6:30 in the morning and off we went to the Southwest Airlines ticketing entrance of the airport. Check-in was smooth, and even better when the agent told us we could each check a bag for free. Yay. Then came the dreaded Security hoo-ha. I knew it would be bad for me. Knee replacements set off the metal detectors, no question about it. So I was pulled aside and subjected to a full body pat-down, most of which time was spent reeling off a long list of disclaimers about where he was going to touch me, with what part of his hand and why. Jeez, man, just get on with it!
Carmen went up to the counter at the gate and secured a pre-boarding pass based on my recent knee replacement surgery. When we boarded the plane we saw the perfect spot on the Boeing 737. The first seats on the port side of the plane are behind a bulkhead, and the aisle seat sticks out farther than the bulkhead, giving me unlimited legroom. Perfect! Two planes there and two back, I got that seat on all four flights. Good ol' CarCar!
Three and a half hours in the Philadelphia airport went by fairly quickly. Then came the four-hour flight to Houston Hobby Airport. Good thing we ate a burger in Philly, because that jive sack of a dozen peanuts wasn't going to see us through to Texas. One really good thing, in my opinion: they've stopped rolling the stupid cart up and down the aisle. The attendant fills a tray with a load of beverages (pre-ordered by us) and walks it down the aisle. Much better.
Jamie picked us up at Passenger Pick-Up very soon after we picked up our bags at Baggage Claim. We rode in her big-ass Ford pickup with the extended cab, just one among many big-ass pickup trucks on the highways and byways of Houston. We're not in Pennsylvania any more, Toto.
Six days in a house with a teenager, a three-year-old, a forty pound puppy and a 72 inch television was quite a change for us. We missed our quiet house with our mostly relaxed kitties. The bestest bestest highlight of the week for me: we all (all but the dog) went out to an excellent Mexican restaurant on Thursday night. I know it was Thursday because Thursday is my evening shift as dispatcher for Tamarack Wildlife Rescue here in Saegertown, PA. The gig is to call the voicemail for messages, and deal with whatever messages there were. Up until that evening, the only message I had ever heard was, "There are no new messages in your mailbox." I was going to do it all by cellular phone, but there were very few spots in the house where I could get a signal. Then we went to the restaurant. I checked messages on the way there at 6:00 EST. No new messages. I checked at 7:00 EST as we were finishing dinner. A woman had called a few minutes after 6:00 EST to say that she had a raccoon in a trap in her ceiling and can somebody help her get it out because it's hissing and growling and stuff. This was my third time taking a shift for Tamarack, and my first time ever dealing with a situation, and I didn't have my notebook with me at the restaurant. The notebook has all the numbers to call for advice or action. It was near 8:00 EST by the time we got back to the house. I called for advice. The advice was: "We don't handle raccoons. Tell her to throw a thick blanket over the trap and pull it out of there. Open the trap outside with a long stick, and the coon will run away." She wasn't very happy with that advice, but understood that we aren't allowed to handle "rabies vector" species. Anyway, my part was fulfilled, there were no more messages, and my shift was over at 9:00 EST. And the Mexican dinner was excellent!
Saturday was preparing for the New Year's Eve cookout and fireworks extravaganza. I vacuumed inside the house and swept the back porch and the driveway. Jamie moved around the outdoor furniture and got firewood for the fire pit. Then she went out to buy more fireworks. Brittany straightened up the garage. Sandra prepped the bacon- wrapped vegetables and scallops for the grill. Olen played golf. The party started as darkness fell, and neighbors poured in from all around. The fireworks scared the piss out of the puppy, providing more clean-up opportunities inside the house because he sure as hell wasn't going outside! It went on until about 2:00am CST, long after I went to bed
Sunday morning I got up, made coffee and was given the unglamorous task of waking Jamie up. She wanted to drive us to the airport, four hours of sleep later. Sandra too wanted to ride along. She was in bed before midnight, so was in a better state of wakefulness. Brooke stayed asleep. Yay. Olen stayed with her.
Ticketing check-in was smooth once again, and security was not bad. Houston Hobby has the nekkid scanners, so I was directed in there as soon as I mentioned my knee replacement. Much quicker and much quieter. Three hours to Baltimore and 45 minutes to Pittsburgh, after an hour and a half layover, medical pre-boarding both legs. Carmen called the Hampton when we landed, and the van came just a few minutes after we went outside with our baggage. An hour after landing, we were in our car arguing with Hermione about the best way home. It was dark, it was raining, and the rain would soon turn to snow.
But Toto, we're not in Texas any more!
Since they have lived there, they have added Carmen's younger sister Jamie to the household, as well as Jamie's daughter Brittany, now sixteen. Three years ago, Jamie's daughter Brooke was born, adding a lively new dynamic to an already quite dynamic household. So a few months ago they added a bulldog puppy, now five months old and forty pounds. His name is Shadow. He's big, he's a puppy.
On the day after Christmas, we flew to Houston, with a plane change in Philadelphia. To add to the adventure, we took advantage of a Hampton Inn offer: we spent the night there near Pittsburgh Airport, left our vehicle there and took the courtesy van to the airport. That way we didn't have to set out for the airport at 5:00am, and the cost was about the same as leaving the car in the airport parking garage. Win win, with one minor exception - as we approached the hotel we looked for something to eat at 5:00pm on Christmas Day. Nothing. Not McDonalds or Burger King or Cracker Barrel or Bob Evans or a grocery store or even a Walgreens. Nothing! We asked at the desk as we checked in. The only place they knew about was Domino's Pizza, a Republican stronghold. Eeeew. So we had a (damn it!) pretty durn yummy pizza for supper in our quite comfortable hotel room.
Overnight Carmen was overcome with the urge to purge, so she was able to eliminate one bag from our carry-on load. She left it in the car. Yay.
The courtesy van loaded us up at 6:30 in the morning and off we went to the Southwest Airlines ticketing entrance of the airport. Check-in was smooth, and even better when the agent told us we could each check a bag for free. Yay. Then came the dreaded Security hoo-ha. I knew it would be bad for me. Knee replacements set off the metal detectors, no question about it. So I was pulled aside and subjected to a full body pat-down, most of which time was spent reeling off a long list of disclaimers about where he was going to touch me, with what part of his hand and why. Jeez, man, just get on with it!
Carmen went up to the counter at the gate and secured a pre-boarding pass based on my recent knee replacement surgery. When we boarded the plane we saw the perfect spot on the Boeing 737. The first seats on the port side of the plane are behind a bulkhead, and the aisle seat sticks out farther than the bulkhead, giving me unlimited legroom. Perfect! Two planes there and two back, I got that seat on all four flights. Good ol' CarCar!
Three and a half hours in the Philadelphia airport went by fairly quickly. Then came the four-hour flight to Houston Hobby Airport. Good thing we ate a burger in Philly, because that jive sack of a dozen peanuts wasn't going to see us through to Texas. One really good thing, in my opinion: they've stopped rolling the stupid cart up and down the aisle. The attendant fills a tray with a load of beverages (pre-ordered by us) and walks it down the aisle. Much better.
Jamie picked us up at Passenger Pick-Up very soon after we picked up our bags at Baggage Claim. We rode in her big-ass Ford pickup with the extended cab, just one among many big-ass pickup trucks on the highways and byways of Houston. We're not in Pennsylvania any more, Toto.
Six days in a house with a teenager, a three-year-old, a forty pound puppy and a 72 inch television was quite a change for us. We missed our quiet house with our mostly relaxed kitties. The bestest bestest highlight of the week for me: we all (all but the dog) went out to an excellent Mexican restaurant on Thursday night. I know it was Thursday because Thursday is my evening shift as dispatcher for Tamarack Wildlife Rescue here in Saegertown, PA. The gig is to call the voicemail for messages, and deal with whatever messages there were. Up until that evening, the only message I had ever heard was, "There are no new messages in your mailbox." I was going to do it all by cellular phone, but there were very few spots in the house where I could get a signal. Then we went to the restaurant. I checked messages on the way there at 6:00 EST. No new messages. I checked at 7:00 EST as we were finishing dinner. A woman had called a few minutes after 6:00 EST to say that she had a raccoon in a trap in her ceiling and can somebody help her get it out because it's hissing and growling and stuff. This was my third time taking a shift for Tamarack, and my first time ever dealing with a situation, and I didn't have my notebook with me at the restaurant. The notebook has all the numbers to call for advice or action. It was near 8:00 EST by the time we got back to the house. I called for advice. The advice was: "We don't handle raccoons. Tell her to throw a thick blanket over the trap and pull it out of there. Open the trap outside with a long stick, and the coon will run away." She wasn't very happy with that advice, but understood that we aren't allowed to handle "rabies vector" species. Anyway, my part was fulfilled, there were no more messages, and my shift was over at 9:00 EST. And the Mexican dinner was excellent!
Saturday was preparing for the New Year's Eve cookout and fireworks extravaganza. I vacuumed inside the house and swept the back porch and the driveway. Jamie moved around the outdoor furniture and got firewood for the fire pit. Then she went out to buy more fireworks. Brittany straightened up the garage. Sandra prepped the bacon- wrapped vegetables and scallops for the grill. Olen played golf. The party started as darkness fell, and neighbors poured in from all around. The fireworks scared the piss out of the puppy, providing more clean-up opportunities inside the house because he sure as hell wasn't going outside! It went on until about 2:00am CST, long after I went to bed
Sunday morning I got up, made coffee and was given the unglamorous task of waking Jamie up. She wanted to drive us to the airport, four hours of sleep later. Sandra too wanted to ride along. She was in bed before midnight, so was in a better state of wakefulness. Brooke stayed asleep. Yay. Olen stayed with her.
Ticketing check-in was smooth once again, and security was not bad. Houston Hobby has the nekkid scanners, so I was directed in there as soon as I mentioned my knee replacement. Much quicker and much quieter. Three hours to Baltimore and 45 minutes to Pittsburgh, after an hour and a half layover, medical pre-boarding both legs. Carmen called the Hampton when we landed, and the van came just a few minutes after we went outside with our baggage. An hour after landing, we were in our car arguing with Hermione about the best way home. It was dark, it was raining, and the rain would soon turn to snow.
But Toto, we're not in Texas any more!
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