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On the Road to Vermont

I like to write posts about driving somewhere. My only concern is to not tell the same things when I’m writing about the same route I’ve been over before. Then again, it’s been over a year since I’ve been to Vermont. Maybe if I do repeat myself nobody will notice. Here’s hoping

Steven picked me up at my place of employment in Ilion and we left from there, so right away it was a little different. Usually I go home first and shower and make my blog post, so we don’t leave till closer to five. This got us on the road almost an hour and a half sooner. Woohoo! As we drove through Mohawk I further suggested we go down Route 5S to Little Falls rather than our usual State Route 5 through Herkimer. This brought us alongside a canal path we’ve walked and I’ve run along, and by Herkimer County Humane Society, site of at least a couple of good blog posts (or do I flatter myself?). It’s a nice country road, and I admired several houses, although I don’t think I’d like to live right on a highway like that.

Soon we were in Little Falls. After one wrong turn (Little Falls can be a little confusing), we were on our way out of Little Falls and on the familiar road to Vermont. We passed Nellis Tavern, where we attended a rhubarb festival. Yum! Must plant some rhubarb next year. I love looking at the mountains. I don’t mind the twisty roads a bit, even if I am the one driving (I was not in this case; I was free to make observations and silly jokes).

At one point there were three cars ahead of us and they all turned left.

“Oh, they’re all turning,” Steven remarked.

“They’re probably going to a party we’re not invited to,” I complained. Sure enough, as we drove by we saw a handpainted sign on a tree, “Hunter’s Party.” It was true! Those bastards WERE going to party and I WASN’T invited! “What the hell, Hunter?” I demanded. Of course, I don’t know anyone named Hunter. For all I know it was a hunters’ party and the person who made the sign had put the apostrophe in the wrong place.

Eventually we got to Saratoga, often a tricky place to drive through, due to heavy pedestrian and vehicular traffic. I’ve always wanted to spend some time there.

“I love Saratoga,” I said. “It is so cool looking.” Three red lights later I said, “I hate Saratoga! There are too many traffic lights!” Steven laughed.

Outside of town I saw a sign at an intersection advertising a new queen-sized mattress for sale. A few miles later at a stop light we saw a pick up truck with a matress and box spring in the back. I speculated it was the one advertised, but I suppose we will never know.

I enjoyed my drive to Vermont, and I must say, leaving earlier is the Way to Go. I didn’t feel nearly as tired when we arrived and it was still early enough to enjoy a chicken barbecue (which I may blog about tomorrow) as well as time on the deck with my sisters-in-law.

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