Like a rolling stone, we collected road trip tips
Bring a nightlight. If you are going to take a road trip, pack a plastic nightlight. If you get up in the dark of night, as people are wont to do, and have to navigate a strange hotel room. It’s safer to have a nightlight. Otherwise you can launch yourself like a human missile and afterward, be of little service to yourself or your traveling companion.
We just finished an approximately 800-mile road trip from Boston to Quoddy Head State Park, Lubec, Maine (you can see Canada), and back through New Hampshire. The trip ended at the wedding of our son Thomas and his now-wife, Alicia, in Ipswich, Mass. We learned some things.
Make sure the rental car doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke. If you think it does, don’t let the woman at the rental car place talk you out of it even if she does have a don’t-mess-with-me Boston accent. If you crumble like a Fig Newton, every time you get in the car, the smoke will rise up from the carpets like fog on the valley floor.
Buy your liquor in New Hampshire. No sales tax, cheap to begin with and their state stores are tremendous. Carry your stuff because if you arrive late at your motel, the bars and stores might be closed. I picked up a cheap plastic foam ice chest that fell apart immediately so that it wouldn’t land on my recommended road trip list.
Wake up early to see the sunrises. You can sleep when you get home. You can sleep when you’re dead. You’ll have plenty of time then.
A good itinerary is important, but flexibility is too. Instinct and imagination can inform your itinerary. Sue wanted to visit an island in Maine because she was inspired by Robert McCloskey’s “One Morning in Maine.”
Don’t be a slave to your itinerary, meaning if you want to turn the car around and take a photo of the state welcome sign or one of Maine’s 65 lighthouses, go back. Sometimes circling is more fruitful than straight ahead.
Don’t be afraid to eliminate a stop from the itinerary even if it’s solid gold (we fired Savannah on our last trip and not because it isn’t on everybody’s wonderful list but because it allowed more time in Charleston)
Stay by the water if you can. Even if it costs more. Remember, you’re from Bakersfield. There is no water here, and it only occasionally rains. The sound of the waves will soothe your weary soul.
Walk and then walk some more. It’s good to have a workout program for the hotel room too, but don’t grunt or make funny noises when you do or it may cause a stampede of the women and children.
Packing cubes are a plus. Those are organizers for your suitcase.
Local breakfast spots are the best; avoid the hotel except on the last morning when it’s clear you’ve blown the budget anyway. When you find a good breakfast spot, go there every day. Sue ate at Mom’s Kitchen in Gloucester four days in a row, befriended the locals and became somewhat of a crowd favorite with the serving staff. It’s OK to play the California card because there is a certain exotic feel to it and you may get some “You guys sure have had a lot of fires recently” sympathy.
Order the corned beef hash if it’s homemade. I did it four or five times. It was great and will stick to your ribs and palate for days.
Order the blueberry pancakes too, especially if the blueberries are wild, but order them even if they aren’t. Wild blueberries are smaller but the taste can be more intense and concentrated.
Travel in the fall or spring, if you can. Why go somewhere when it’s hot when you live in a hot place? Plus, you’ll avoid the crowds.
Winter is good too. When it’s cold, there are fewer people and it’s nice to walk in a big city wearing a heavy coat with your hands in your pocket and pretend you’re Bob Dylan.
Visit Maine before you die. Then you can die and not have any regrets. If you don’t go, you’ll have at least one.
Maine’s license plates read, “Welcome home.” I can see why. If Maine is not your home, it’s the home you may have always wanted, although it’s a home you want to leave in the winter, and winters aren’t short.
“Welcome home” may sound corny or be little more than a perfunctory greeting but it stirs something inside that feels right.
Maybe it means “Welcome to the beauty, the silence, the peace that you have missed. Welcome to somebody you may have been a long time ago but lost in the rush, clutter and noise.”
Look for America because you might find that people are friendly and welcoming and, while you were looking, so were they.