Syracuse to T.C. !!
Home again - we left Syracuse at 7 o'clock this morning and got home around 7:30 p.m. - a long day on the road! I don't know how Dick does it - I can only drive a couple of hours before I get really sleepy. I could drive from Syracuse to T.C. in about four days!
Dick wrote an email to the kids - I couldn't say it any better, so here's his email:
We made it.
Once we started this morning in Syracuse, I planned on pushing all the
way home. It was a shorter trip than the run last winter from W. Va
no snow.
What I didn't count on was the rain, (it ranged from a frog
strangler to a mist most of the day.) crossing Canada,that is, entering
and leaving, and Friday "Up North" traffic on I75/US10/M115.
We may never go to Canada again. It took us a half hour to get in at
Buffalo. The line to cross the border and pay our bridge toll seemed
endless. Little did we know. ( This was after the guy in the gas station
backed into us and dented our rear quarter panel. There are advantages
to having a slightly beat up '02 with over 100K miles on it.) Why is it
so hard to get through customs? We had passports for Pete's Sake!. (BTW,
did you know that Old Pete is the Devil?) OK I Know, 9 11 changed
everything, but does paranoia really make you safer?
The stern faced young man checked our plate and could see that we last
entered and left Canada the previous Sunday. What do they care what we
have been doing for the past week since we left at Niagara Falls? At
least when the unsmiling Canadian Customs Official handed back our
passports, he said "Go Blue!".
At Port Huron it took over an hour to pay our toll, cross the bridge and
clear American Customs. If the government wants to do something about
pollution and gas consumption, they should look at the border crossings.
There were hundreds of cars and trucks that were creeping, no, inching
forward in at least ten lines trying to enter the US. The traffic going
to Canada was worse. There the bridge was packed, three lanes full from
Port Huron all the way across. We were wondering how much weight it
could hold. Couldn't we just take a number? Make an appointment?
On the Sarnia side, before we could even cross the bridge, the toll
booth operators took a break for some reason and for about a quarter of
an hour, no one in three lines moved. Meanwhile, there was an empty open
line next to us that nobody could get to. I half way wanted to pull
through an opening in the barricade to it, but when I suggested that, I
got "The Look" from the passenger seat.
Finally we paid our toll and crossed the Blue Water Bridge. The Homeland
Security/ Customs Agent at the front of our line was a chatty Buckeye
Fan who wanted to know what I thought of the new Michigan coach.
Operating under the influence of my bride, and remembering the
consequences some thirty plus years ago when, at the same border
crossing, our son and heir piped up with a smart aleck comment from the
rear of the motor home, I politely indicated my view of "The New Guy"
and relayed our position that we are always in favor or the Big 10 team
when they play outside the conference. These guys are obviously not paid
based on the number of cars they clear.
The rest of the trip, while not completely uneventful, was much less
stressful and I was surprised to realize that I am much more comfortable
driving in Michigan that any place else. There is indeed no place like
home.
