That’s what I get. That’s what I get. I’m just over 24 hours and 420 miles away from home and it’s good to be OUT, but the madness of the traffic of the Boston suburbs make me almost miss home already.
Almost.
We drove north yesterday, staying with an old friend and her angry dog in Rhode Island and though we won over the dog by our departure, we’re under no illusions about him welcoming us back. I’m pretty sure that this dog is one that doesn’t remember previous work and will expect us to start our relationship from scratch upon any future visitations, with offerings of cheese and slow movements where we never make eye contact, but never turn our backs either.
I’m not going to say that 8 hours of driving yesterday passed like a dream, but between the joy of being in motion, the slow cooling of the weather, and a long-Lived 80’s music party on a New York City radio station that had wider range than we had any right to expect, it was a GOOD drive.
Heather’s clutch leg might not agree.
Nine Inch Nails fades from the playlist, Angie Aparo wails forward, cars swerve and I have a weird realization that none of them look real. Strange shapes and glowing screens, absurd brake lights, animated and flowing. I’d trade another hour on the road or a less-than-playful nibble from the angry dog for an old Bronco II or an old Chrysler. These wannabe spaceships crawling along at 20 miles an hour have no right to be the successors of my Saturn.
Last night we ate a fabulous dinner at a fabulous diner, this morning we had breakfast sandwiches that may have ruined us for all future breakfast sandwiches, and well fed and spoiled we race north to New Hampshire for a house concert that may suffer from a weather front that seems to have been ducking and weaving with us for the whole drive. It threatened our loadout this morning, moistening our pillows with errant drops and now darkens the horizon even as the blue skies above us lie and promise.
Angie fades to Tori and my body mutters something that sounds SUSPICIOUSLY like “I’m not as young as I used to be” as traffic breaks apart and flows. It’s time to GO. It’s good to see old friends, even if their dogs are solely glad to see us GO.
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