Redundant, I know. You've heard it all before. But let's put it this way: even the GPS gets confused. I can't believe the screen doesn't just go black like she's giving up. The GPS screen refreshes itself manically as it tries to re-adjust to the roads she thought were there but aren't and the roads she didn't know were there but are. There are just so many roads. And none of them at right angles. So much veering. I've missed so many turns because GPS says "turn right" but there's no place to "turn right" so I just keep driving - when I should have just "leaned." And none of the street signs match the street names that the GPS thinks they have so even if I can figure out that I'm supposed to "lean right" instead of "turn right," I miss it anyway because the street sign says Huntington and the GPS says Lennox. You can't give a road more than one name!!! It makes street signs completely irrelevant!!!
And since there are no signs that say "Kristin Go This Way, 1 mi," the GPS and I just hold on and try not to drive off the road (which could totally happen). At one point, the GPS shows that I'm in a rotary and instructs me to take the 2nd exit. And I'm like "I'm in a rotary?" Then I get honked at. Sorry about the preposition (then honked at I get?).
I find the 2nd exit (hurray!) and enter an expanse of asphalt with roughly 4 lanes of traffic. I say roughly because there aren't actually any lane lines. It's just a free for all; people are driving anywhere they want. Four lanes worth of people are driving anywhere they want. This is what it would look like if we gave our car keys to toddlers. Is there no urban planning here (no)? Did Benjamin Franklin design this road and they want to keep it historically accurate? Are lane lines a regional cultural thing and I'm trying to impose my midwestern values upon people who don't need lane lines? Will I die here on this road? I have no idea where to go so I just choose a car to follow so I can pretend that I'm in a lane. So I can foist some order upon the anarchy to assuage my own rule-following compulsion. And then I get honked at again (back off, dude! I can drive anywhere I want!).
I need a snack but I don't dare get off the race track. I'll never get back on. There's no place to stop anyway which is actually a big problem; when traveling from our house to the airport, you have to pack food like a pioneer. There's very little food at the airport - a few Dunkins and a dirty Fuddruckers. It's not called Dirty Fuddruckers, it's just a dirty Fuddruckers. And there's nothing on the hour-long drive from our house to Boston unless you want Dunkin Donuts (duh), McDonalds, Wendy's, The Steak House, Jimmy's Steer House, and Casual Male XL (I know it's not food but just in case any of your XL male friends need some casual wear on the way to the airport, I thought I'd mention it).
So there's nothing to eat and I'm hungry and people are chasing me and honking at me and I just have to get out of this place. I'm making a mad dash for the state line. I feel like Thelma and Louse. I hold out my hand for Liam to grab and he takes it even though he doesn't know what I'm doing.
And finally.........crossing into New Hampshire..........
......... a rush of vehicular tranquility.
So many well-marked lanes.
Not a car in sight.
I put it on cruise control and choose one of the many empty lanes to hang out in until I reach home.
And though it will be my home for just a little while longer, it strikes me that this may be the first time I've called it that.