A summer has passed with nary a blog from yours truly. And a busy one it has been. Although I have not had the time to actually sit and compose, I have taken in The Daily Brief on a, well, daily basis – or at least to the extent that I have been able to gain access to the Internet. Why is it that at Holiday Inn Express, you can get reliable wireless access at no additional charge, but at a Hilton (for $300 / night) you must pay an additional $9.95 per day for a connection that drops in and out like an old crystal radio tuned in to some far away station? My company recently equipped me with a Blackberry, which enables me to follow the blogs more easily (as long as there is Cingular service), however, I have not had any success to date using it to actually post anything – besides, they are a major pain in the a** to type on because, in the case of my particular model, most keys represent multiple characters
Anyway, my job has of late required more than normal travel, often with short notice. In the midst of that, Real wife, Red Haired Girl, and yours truly set off for north central New York to attend a family reunion. Although we usually take a plane or train, we decided this time to do a road trip. Loyal readers may recall that I bought Real Wife a new Jeep Grand Cherokee Ltd. (yes, with a Hemi) for our wedding anniversary. It is quite the ultimate highway cruiser, and we actually achieved 21 mpg on a couple of interstate stints, with the engine mostly cruising on just 4 cylinders. Put the pedal down though and it is Katie bar the door. Most inter-city driving is pretty calm – everyone getting into a groove and generally staying out of each other’s way. In the cut and thrust of beltway driving though, particularly around Indianapolis, 340+ horsepower (I installed a K&N reduced restriction air filter) is a useful thing to have. Mileage does take a hit – we saw 16.5 mpg in one stint. What the hell though, it was fun.
I mapped our trip to follow the old route 17 (now I-86) through the southern part of New York. It is normally one of the most scenic routes in the country – not this time though. We drove through nearly 200 miles of the worst rain I have seen in years, often at elevations of over 2000 feet where we were literally in the clouds. It finally stopped north of Elmira, but the rest of the week brought several new storms and near 100-degree temperatures.
Our reunion, held at my cousin’s house near Oswego, was interrupted by a brief but intense six-inch rainfall and winds high enough to knock out power to 30,000 people. The sky did clear and the party continued. There are twelve siblings in my mother’s family, close to fifty offspring in my generation, with well over a hundred of their kids of childbearing age – you get the message – a lot of people. I saw some relatives that I had not seen since probably 1970, and many others who I did not even recognize. The male members of the family can generally be identified by a) baldness and b) a neck size of at least 16 inches. Although a few of the female members can also be so-identified, the general tip off is red hair.
We did enjoy the local foods that I grew up on – salt potatoes, clams, Italian sausage and coneys. The term coney has different meanings depending on where you are. In central New York they are a white spicy hot dog, traditionally served at 117 year-old Heid’s in Liverpool (just north of Syracuse). We bought and froze 15 pounds of them to bring back to enjoy and share with deprived midwestern friends.
On our return trip we stopped at Niagara Falls and walked to Canada to get Hard Rock Café souvenirs. Red Haired Girl was in a particularly bad mood (generally because she is a teenager travelling with parents and specifically because she was – well, I don’t remember now). After lunch, we crossed back over to resume the trip. You actually have to pay twenty-five cents (Canadian, but they will take American) to leave their country. We did not have a birth certificate or picture ID for Red Haired Girl, which caused a problem at the border. Real Wife helpfully offered a Social Security card, with the agent responding that every illegal he has seen carries a Social Security card. Owing to RHG’s above noted foul mood, I was somewhat inclined to simply leave her in Canada, however, that would have been bad fathering (not to mention the serious implications to relations between the two countries). I then asked the agent to look at her (sulking with an expression that confirmed to any bystanders that she had the dumbest parents in the world) and tell me that she could be anyone’s daughter but mine. He ceded the point and allowed us to go on our way. I should note in fairness that by the time we traversed six hundred miles, and found a motel with a pool and a nearby Appleby’s, that had perked up some.
Real Wife, who had never previously taken a road trip of that length, is now fired up and anxious to head out again once school ends in the spring. I’m thinking maybe Kentucky or North Carolina for some golfing…