When I left last Tuesday, I only had a rough idea of where I’d be going. I knew I wanted to take a drive through Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Vermont, but other than that I was playing it by ear. I started out in Connecticut on Route 7, and boy I couldn’t leave that state fast enough. Shortly before reaching the Massachusetts border things finally started to look better, scenic wise, but the area had a “blahness” to it that left me with no desire to stick around.

Massachusetts was a completely different story. I entered via the Berkshires and was greeted by a picturesque view of autumn leaves and old fashioned buildings that made me think I had traveled back hundred years in time. I had originally planned to keep going on Route 7, but I got a call from Mumsy who suggested, “Hey, why not go to Yankee Candle Headquarters?”

I made a mad dash for the interstate, completely perplexed that I had to drive miles and miles just to find an entrance ramp to get on, but once I was on it the rest was smooth sailing to South Deersfield. I spent the rest of the afternoon ohhing and ahhing everything the store had to offer (pictures forthcoming in a future post,) then bought popcorn! And umm, maybe a hundred dollars worth of candles too. *ahem* But moving right along…

I was roughly somewhere in the middle of Massachusetts now, so I decided, best thing to do was go up 91 and then take the Mohawk Trail to Williamstown, where the Greylock Mountains were located. The scenery kept getting better and better, and in hindsight I probably should have stopped at a restaurant that overlooked a huge valley on the way, so high up was it that you forgot there was a ground underneath you. I need to go back there some day.

North Adams and Williamstown also turned out to be lovely, a place worthy of staying at again for a more conventionally planned trip. I stayed the night at a dinky place called Willows Motel, which had a 19 inch TV you had to squint at from your bed and free wifi, that is, assuming you brought a ten foot antenna with you to shove up blue sky’s butt in the vain hope that you might get a decent reception. All I can say is, thank God for Verizon. To top it off, there was no table either. I had to eat and use my laptop on a nightstand. Ah well, at least the room was clean.

The next morning I drove into Vermont and passed through Bennington, and I immediately decided this was another town worthy of a more extended visit. In fact I think that whole area from the Mohawk Trail to Bennington deserves another trip to for a more extended stay. There was just something about it all that appealed to me. Old style towns with a mountain backdrop, yet with a freshness and appeal that left a smile on my face. The only thing I didn’t like about the area was how close it was to Albany. Ew. Just knowing I was that close was enough to keep me driving.

Well that, and the unbelievably spectacular views I was being treated to as I continued traveling up Route 7. Vermont was absolutely gorgeous, the scenic drive alone was worth the trip. I finally landed in Rutland after an hour or so, but this time I decided I didn’t really like the area. It felt too… New Yorkish to me, even though Killington was just a hop away. I drove up Route 4 to Killington but again, it just seemed like there was nothing there for me. I realized this drive would have been more appropriate if I had been a skier or a winter sports enthusiast, but since I was neither, the only thing left to do was to stay at a resort with a breathtaking scenic view, and the only one I knew that fit the bill (The Cascades) had nothing available. Not feeling the magic, I decided to head back to Route 7 and continue up to Middlebury.

But once again Middlebury did nothing for me either. Seems Vermont is a great place to be until you actually stop driving. It could have been all psychological, or because I hadn’t planned beyond a simple drive here, but I definitely did not want to spend the night at a town that reminded me too much of home for some reason. I was also a mountain man, and because I was now out of the mountainous state park, there wasn’t enough of a backdrop to suit me, unlike Williamstown and North Adams back in Massachusetts.

So, what to do? I now had several options. I could keep going north to the Vermont capital Burlington, stay at a classy hotel for the night, then hop a ferry over to New York, and from there I could visit more familiar grounds, specifically Lake Placid, a favorite vacation spot of mine. Or, just continue north from Burlington and take the scenic byway Route 2, which would have seen me travel over several islands and bridges from Vermont to Plattsburgh NY, but God only knows what I was going to do from there. Or, I could turn back and drive instead to Ticonderoga, New York, another favorite area of mine, spend a night there, and maybe use that as a launching platform for daily trips into Vermont again, or again, just go from there to Lake Placid.

I ultimately opted to drive to Ticonderoga, and I’m glad I did. Route 125 proved to be the most scenic drives yet in Vermont, and I was driving during that part of day when the sun was just beginning to set. Some of my best pictures may in fact be from that particular drive. I drove over the bridge and stayed the night at a gorgeous Best Western.

One of the things about these kinds of trips was having to make snap decisions that I might wind up regretting. Where do I stay, where do I go, what do I do? I had to make these decisions on the fly, and as the day wore on, I had to make them quick, or wind up spending the night in my car or at a sleazy motel. I also wasn’t relaxing as much as I’d like because I was running around like a chicken without a head, exploring every area I could find. It was exciting, to be sure, but eventually you wind up needing a vacation just from the vacation itself.

After the night in Ticonderoga, I opted to go to Lake Placid, thinking maybe I made the wrong choice, but curiously enough, the bridge I went over closed the very next day. If I had stayed in Ticonderoga I wouldn’t have been able to go back into Vermont unless I took a ferry. Interesting how that played out.

By this time now I just wanted to relax. I wanted the mountains, a place to stay with a scenic view of the lake, a fireplace, and hot babes. Well, 3 out of 4 ain’t bad.

So now, after 5 days of my vacationing adventures so far, I think I’ve learned a few things:

The places I like to visit don’t really have that much to offer unless you’re an outdoorsy kind of person. Things like hiking and camping don’t really appeal to me, although I did try hiking once. ONCE.

I’ve never even skied either, though I do think I would enjoy the experience, especially snowmobiling and maybe a few other winter related activities.

These things always tend to be done in groups though, and I guess one of the reasons I’ve never done it is because I’d really feel the sting of being alone. I’d just watch as the whole world would walk around in pairs and groups while I’d stick out like a sore thumb, being the lone ranger that I am.

I’ve also noticed that I tend to go places when it’s offseason, which helps save on the costs and from dealing with the crowds, but it also means recreational places that would normally be open during peak season would not be available then, leaving me with even less options.

I also realize that because I’m traveling while its offseason, I haven’t had an issue with finding a place to stay with the hotels I’ve chosen, which I’m sure would not be the case if I had been traveling during a busier time of year. It’s something I’ll need to consider for the future.

All in all, I think the kind of vacation that would ultimately suit me is one that’s tailored for reclusive writers. Ever seen The Shining? Well think of me as a slightly less crazier version of Johnny. But it does seem to fit me, having a hotel all to myself, in a wintry wonderland, peacefully enjoying a warm fireplace as I typed merrily away on my laptop, which is in fact what I’m doing now.

I wonder if that’s my calling, to be a traveling kind of writer? That maybe the best kind of vacation for me is a recluse or a retreat somewhere where I can enjoy some peace and quiet, great food, a scenic view, and an ideal setting that would allow me a chance to really get my creative juices flowing. I’ve been googling around for online communities that might offer more information or even vacation packages with professional writers in mind. It might give me a better idea of how to plan for a future vacation, where to go and where I could ideally stay.

Speaking of my next vacation, that happens to be in just a few weeks, where I take a short trip to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to catch a bluegrass show. And eat melted pretzels at Sheetz!

Who knows, maybe I can find a sexy Amish girl there willing to give me wubsies and bake me pie.

Tags: autumn, Connecticut, drive, driving, fireplace, food, hotels, lake placid, Massachusetts, new york, recap, ticonderoga, time, travel, vacation, Vermont, writer, writing
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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I spent the night at Ticonderoga (home of Fort Ticonderoga) before deciding to head out to Lake Placid the next day. Vermont was gorgeous, but I couldn’t decide on any place to stay, so I went for the familiar and hopped back over to NY for the remainder of my trip. I got up, feeling refreshed and charged after staying a night at an awesome Best Western here, then decided to make a quick stop at Walmart (yes I’m ashamed of myself, but there was no Target nearby, so nyah.)

I walked in and checked the men’s section, deciding to check out the jeans and see if there might be one or two worth getting. I bent over to check the tags when

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*

Did I say I might get jeans? Because I’m pretty sure I was gonna need a pair like, right now.

All I could do now was hold the shattered parts of my old jeans together with one hand and a new pair with the other as I waggled my way to the checkout lines as fast as I could. And of course, this would be one of those Walmarts that didn’t have self-checkouts either. FAIL. And, the express line was closed too. FAIL.

And now I’m stuck behind this woman who had literally, two carts, TWO carts worth of junk. Who does that? Still, I try to look as natural as possible even while I can feel the breeze go right through my undies, waiting for this land whale to finally check out her ten boxes of Ramen noodles and other assorted goods. Finally it was my turn. I quickly I paid up, then waggled as fast as I could to the car.

In hindsight, I probably should have just gone back into the store and changed in the fitting rooms, but this was not a day where logic prevailed.

I got in my car and drove around the back, figuring I could change in the backseat without anyone getting a peep show from me. So of course, as soon as I find a spot and park, a door to the building opens and out comes this woman who was probably on a cigarette break. She’s talking to someone behind her but she is looking right at my car and STARING. I figure I’d wait a minute or two to see if she’d go back in, but she didn’t and she never stopped staring either. I hadn’t even done anything yet, I was just parked. What is this lady’s problem??

I gave up and drove to the side of the building instead, and while I’m driving the woman actually walked out the door so she could continue staring as I drove away. Good grief. I parked next to a truck that was unoccupied, got into the backseat as fast as I could, then started changing. While I’m changing, all of a sudden the back of the truck opens all the way up and out comes this trucker, looking curiously at my car, and I’m wondering if he could see me (I had tinted windows, thank God.) Still, I finished changing, and opened the door to get out. Except… I couldn’t, because the child locks were engaged.

Why would I keep the child locks on? Why, WHY would I do that?? I sat there for a few minutes, wondering which way I should opt to crawl over so I could get out of the ride that had suddenly become my prison. I finally opted for the passenger seat, then grunted, jerked, banged my head on the rearview mirror, and wiggled my way over, before finally landing flat on my hiney as I opened the passenger door and free fell to the ground. Owie.

Mercifully, that was the end of it. I was now wearing my new pair of jeans and a new jacket (which I also bought) and feeling much better about things. I drove out and headed to a nearby ATM machine to get some cash (which charged me $2.75 for the convenience, what the flip!?!)

I then headed north, trying to put the unpleasantness of the morning behind me as I started taking in the views of Lake Champlain.

Then I passed by a state trooper. And sure enough I could see him in the rearview mirror as he screeched to a halt and made a quick u-turn. Oh no. No, no, no…

Well maybe he was going after someone else. Nope. I could see the lights go on and I sighed heavily as I pulled over. This was going to be one of those days.

“Can I see your license and registration please?” All business.

“Sure, here’s my registration, hold on I’ll get my license.” I pulled it out of my wallet.

“Do you know why I stopped you, sir?”

“Because I’m awesome?”

“No sir, you were speeding. The speed limit here is 45 and you were driving 15 miles above the limit.”

“Really? I was going that slow?”

“I noticed you had another ID card in your wallet. Can you show it to me?”

“Sure.” He had seen my work ID so I pulled it out and gave it to him.

“How long have you been working for this agency, sir?”

“About ten years.”

“Have you ever been pulled over or received a speeding ticket?”

“Been a while since I was pulled over, never received a speeding ticket. I never speed though, I just go faster sometimes.”

“I would like to verify this ID as well. Please wait in your car, sir, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

My humor was completely lost on him. He took my ID, probably to see if I did in fact work for THE MAN, and after a few lengthy minutes he got back out again. I could see he was holding a ticket.

You son of of a___

“Sir, instead of citing you for speeding, I will issue a parking citation. You will not have to worry about receiving any points on your license or having your license suspended as long as you pay the fine in time. Please fill out the form here and here, and mail it in, or you can stop in person if you so desire. Do you understand everything I’ve just explained to you?”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

“Have a nice day, and please drive safely.”

“Thank you, you’re not going to follow me now right?”

“…Do I have reason to?”

“Oh no no, in fact I’m right by Stewart’s here, I think I’ll go in for some coffee.”

“Have a nice day, sir.”

He finally drove off.

I looked the ticket over, and one thing bugged me: it had no fine amount listed, which made no sense to me. I was in town though, so I figured I could stop by and pay the fine in person, just to get it over with.

Despite having Google Maps on my iPod, (which was going on and off because the signal was weak here,) it took me 30 minutes of wrong turns and head banging to find this fricking building. I had this preconceived notion of what a court building should look like, so I certainly didn’t expect THIS:

Seriously?

I walked up to the door, which had a sign that said:

“Court temporarily moved to Town Supervisor and Clerk’s Office.”

Sigh.

I should have mailed it in, but I’m just not wired that way. I like to get things over with NOW instead of having something like this hanging over my head and ruining my vacation mood. So I pressed onward, and spent another 20 minutes looking for the Town Supervisor and Clerk’s office before finally locating it inside an RV park. Yes, seriously.

I walked up to the door and read another sign:

“Closed for lunch.”

You get it? The entire town government was closed for lunch. Really? Gads.

Lunch was close to over, so I decided to wait another few minutes, pondering over why this blasted ticket did not have a fine amount on it, and absolutely convinced that if I mailed it in they’d somehow lose it for sure. I was putting myself through this grief primarily because I didn’t know before then that the fine amount would be determined by the judge himself.

That’s not how we do things downtown though. Our traffic violations have fines that are predetermined by statute. When you get cited, the fine amount is clearly listed on the ticket itself, and you can just stop by in person or mail in the guilty verdict along with a check. Here I could mail a guilty plea, but there was no indication as to how much I needed to pay, which completely threw me.

It was after lunch now, so I went back and entered the “building,” which to me really looked more like an oversized trailer home.

I walked in and saw a pair of clerks chatting it up.

“Hey there, I just wanted to see where I could find out about paying a ticket?”

“Oh, you’re here for the court?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I’m sorry, court doesn’t start until 4PM. If you want you could come back then.”

I just looked at her.

“Um, what? What kind of town court STARTS at 4 o’ clock in the afternoon??”

“That’s usually when session begins. Sorry.”

Sigh.

I got back to my car and thought about what I could do. I COULD let it go, but I’m too OCD for that, so I decided what I could do is drive to Lake Placid, check into my hotel, then drive back to the court, a round trip of 120 something miles. Yes, I’m an idiot.

So that’s what I did. I finally drove to Lake Placid and made it here at long last around 4PM, checked in, then cleaned my car out to get things ready for my quick trip back, this time using the interstate so I could make better time.

I tossed some of the trash in my car into the garbage can and walked out again, only to realize too late that I had just thrown my key card into the trash as well. I was now locked out of my hotel room, AND the building itself, because each door needed a key card to gain entrance. And I had to go to the bathroom too. Like, really badly.

Funny thing, this would be one of those buildings that didn’t have a lobby either, since it was a sister hotel that was now part of a bigger resort complex. So I’m frantically going around the building looking for an unlocked opening while doing the bathroom dance, trying to figure out what to do. Thankfully, somebody else had also checked in and were about to walk in, so I tried to be as nonchalant as I could as they opened up the door with their keycard and I walked up behind them. They held the door open for me, and I RACED back to my room like a bat out of hell itself.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………..

Finally, I went back to the trash can and started diving around for my key card, getting my arm soaked in day old coffee before finally locating the card. I went back to my room to clean myself up a little, then went off to start the drive back to the town that I was now swearing I would never drive through ever again, never ever, amen and amen.

After an hour and a half of intense driving, half terrified that I was going to get pulled over again, I finally made it into town, got out and quickly jogged into the building again. I noticed by now the RV park was hopping. There were trailers and RVs everywhere.

There was also now a line of people at the door, all waiting for their day in court I suppose, yet I couldn’t see anything that remotely passed for a court room. I did see the judge though, who looked like he had just gotten back from a day of working at the steel mills. The court clerk asked if she could help me.

“Yeah I’d like to see about paying this ticket.”

“Oh, well you’ll have to wait until the judge is ready to see you, though I don’t know how long that will be.”

“I can’t just pay the ticket now?”

“No, he has to see the case first, then he decides what the fine amount will be.”

“Seriously? Because where I live, the fines are predetermined. I’ve never heard of a judge determining traffic fines like this before.”

“Wow, that would make things a lot easier here.” She said this as if it were the most brilliant thing she had ever heard.

“So… what do I do then?”

“Well let me get your casefile. When did you get the ticket?”

“Today.”

“Oh… we’re not going to have the casefile then. It takes a few days before we get the next batch of caseloads from state police. I won’t be able to do anything for you until then.”

Sigh. “So, what do I do?”

“Well, you can sign a guilty plea now, and then when we get the casefile, the judge will set a fine and send you the bill by mail. Since you handed this in person, you just have to mail the payment.”

“Ok…” I signed the forms. “Thanks for your time.”

“Oh by the way,” she called out. “No personal checks! Has to be cashier checks or money orders!”

Good Lord. “Yes, ma’am.”

There was nothing left to do now but start the long drive back to Lake Placid. I drove in pitch blackness, half wondering if this day would end with me barreling into a stray moose or driving off a ledge somewhere, but fortunately, it seemed the worst was over. I got back to the hotel around 8PM completely exhausted, and thinking up creative, violent things I’d like to do to state troopers (even though the dweeb had done me a favor by only citing me for a non-moving violation.)

Yep, I think I’d just as soon pretend this day never happened.

Tags: car, clerk, driving, funny, government, lake placid, locked out, new york, pants, police, state police, ticket, ticonderoga, town, upstate, vacation, walmart
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
 
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