So we're on the road yesterday, for my wife's birthday. Her family is up north, and we usually meet up somewhere in the middle, to avoid long drives. I'm happy as hell to avoid the SMIL's cooking, even if it means Roy Rogers fried chicken on the turnpike. It's just that bad.
This time, it's in Wilkes-Barre, south of what's left of the downtown. I didn't know it going in, but when we got there and saw the Crown Chicken, the "Chinese store," and the hair-braiding/extensions shop, I knew we were deep in the pure 'hood, NEPA or not. I shouldn't have expected much different. She wanted Dominican food for her birthday, so that's what she got, at the one and only spot in town. Her family was a bit freaked out by the surroundings, but they've been freaked out for the whole time we've been together. My pursuits have always had me in and out of questionable areas, and decidedly dangerous ethnic dining is second nature for us.
Anyway, NEPA (note this,
1J04 ) is fine country for all manner of Wookies, Sasquatch, and Ewoks, outside of its few built-up areas. It's got trees, and reasonably-sized mountains, and fish, and game, and all sorts of things that bipedal beings of questionable genetic makeup would like. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","height":"866","width":"650","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/e2QrC17.jpg?1"}[/IMG2]
It being her birthday, and having forgotten her glasses, I get to drive. Now, I used to live up that way, and I'm familiar with parts of town, but I've never had to come in from off of the Northeast Extension of the Turnpike. It was always on state two-lane highways, coming from a different direction. The missus is a technocritter, and loves nothing more than to blindly follow the advice of gadgets. Go here, do that, do this, etc., etc., so to keep her happy we're using Google Maps. Me? I would have dead-reckoned it and done okay, since I know where the highway goes in relation to the town, and we were going to an address on one of the the main north-south streets. Pretty simple stuff. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/NW67MrZ.jpg?1"}[/IMG2]
So, we get off the highway, and I want to go left, and come on in to town from the north end. "But, but, Google Maps says ..." So, I make her happy and listen to the Informational Overlords, going right, and following directions to make a right a little ways beyond where I notice a government building of some sort with a sign indicating that the elevation at that spot is 1,931 feet. What goes up has to come down, right? And the town is down in the valley, as is our destination, and that idiot program is sending us by the most direct route possible.
So we wind up on this grungy two-lane with a severely eroded berm on either side, and after a wee, wee little stretch of somewhat level and straight road, all of a sudden the shit gets absolutely
vertiginous and twisty: crumbling berms, worn-out pavement, minimalist, rusty 60s-lookin' guardrails here and sometimes there. We're about three feet beyond the apex of the highest rise on the roller coaster. I'm giddy. I've got good brakes, decent highway tires, and an off-road suspension, even if I am in a pickup truck. I'm not gonna push it, but this shit, even at a crawl, is better than an E-ticket ride at fuckin' Disney World. I look over. She's gone green, her eyes are rolling around in her head, she's just about pierced her thighs with her fingernails, and she's trying to form a scream but the only thing coming out of her mouth is big puffs of panicked air.
So I go to stop on the side of the road, Mistake. "MY GOD, MY GOD, MY GOD, YOU'RE GONNA TURN US OVER!" But I'm careful, and we come to no harm. I send her out to take a breath of air, if she can, and to get a picture of the mountains across the valley. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","height":"869","width":"652","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/8MJ8x7t.jpg?1"}[/IMG2]
She scrambles back up into the cab, none the better for the pause. "Honey, how much more of this
IS there?" "Dunno, sweetie, probably about 1,500 feet worth of descent to go?" Luckily, we weren't in the rig with the gauges. She notices these things. So we go on a little more. She's half-hyperventilating and I can't get this stupid shit-eating grin off my face. We get around a few more curves, dropping like a rock, and the downtown heaves into distant view (not hove, mind you, that's past tense). [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/noeOWAN.jpg?1"}[/IMG2]
She just squints downhill, visibly perturbed. "Sugar, we followed Google Maps, right?" I think to myself, if you do what they say, you can never be wrong, okay? Yeah, right.
Eventually, we get down the hill, the roadway becoming noticeably more civilized, until we roll into town and proceed to the restaurant. She's starting to breathe normally.
Lunch is good. I'm translating and explaining. SMIL loves the food, which is weird, because this chick is Mikey with the Life cereal; she doesn't like
anything. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/sfpyaEF.jpg"}[/IMG2]
Me, SMIL, FIL, BIL #2 (#1 is in OH), and the missus.
So, we get home to the Shire, passing under the mountains and observing folks who seem to be fairly cowbell-sated. [IMG2=JSON]{"data-align":"none","data-size":"full","src":"http:\/\/i.imgur.com\/t1ZC81n.jpg?1"}[/IMG2]
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And then it occurs to me. That hill. Why, all of a sudden, was the last stretch so relatively well-maintained?
Heh. Heh heh heh. Google is my friend. Now, I'm laughing. We just did a rather infamous route in reverse, except
we did the whole thing.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giants_Despair_Hillclimb
The racers only run a mile, that last bit that was much better groomed. Good grief. No wonder she was screaming.
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Fucking fucker, indeed.
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