New Hampshire, how do I love thee? Let me count thy roads.
Preferably, of course, by riding all of them.
There's something special about the roads out here, a smooth conservation of energy that takes you from place to place in all kinds of directions, with minimal input on the bars or throttle. It twists and turns, rises and falls, but never so fast that you're caught off-guard by it; a quiet sense of getting there by going nowhere in particular.
What strange sort of animal is this?
The road that Deborah's parents live on has a few quirks to it, as well. Namely, it passes back and forth repeatedly between four different towns. The only problem with that is that each town has assigned it's own house numbering system, and they don't necessarily line up. At all. As I was rolling in the last few miles, I kept thinking I was getting closer to my goal (617) but then the numbers would jump from the 400s to the 80s, and then into the 50s, and back to the 400s for a while, then back to the 50s and 60s... I ended up finding the house by remembering the distinctive shape of the tree out front, and that there was a radio antenna just over the next hill!
1 comment:
Great vacation saga you've got going! Though you are never going to get me on a motorcycle, interstate or no! Finding Deborah's parents' house sounds like finding my in-law's house in the Ocala National Forest. You come down this windy road looking for "three signs and then a light in the sky". That's how my MIL described it to us the first time and - Lo! that is exactly how you find the place.
BTW, I saw on Twitter you wrote: "can't help but wonder how much teenage angst and moodiness is really just lack of sleep and poor nutrition." Having just dealt with my 8-year-old daughter after a very late night at the county fair I can say that you are really onto something here!
Post a Comment