I reluctantly left Montpelier and started a day of driving to get as close to Buffalo as I could, without straining myself too much. After just a couple of hours of driving scenic roads in Vermont and part of New York, I hit the rivers Styx, or I-90 as most call it. The interstate that leads to Cleveland, the final destination. Home. The end. The death of my trip that I'm loving so much. After all the incredible scenery America has to offer, I'm on back on rice pudding road. Boring. Grey. I-90. Eighteen wheelers, construction, and tolls. Tasteless service plazas with no picnic tables under trees. Miles from the blue ocean water, instead of feet. No more stopping at the site of something interesting and unexpected, like the naturally formed hole in a rock I saw in Utah. Or an incredible beach on the Oregon coast. Or a ranch in Wyoming with a funny name. Regulated stops every 39 miles.
I'm trying to focus on the good, seeing my friends in Buffalo, and all I'd seen and done, but it's difficult. I made it to Syracuse a little on the blue side.
No comments:
Post a Comment