I can do my share of that, as you've no doubt noticed the last four pages! How's about quick poetry about the drive home:

There were three people in a Jeep,
Who went through New York in a creep.
By the time they got to The Merge,
They had to fight the urge,
To leave carloads of Yankees in a heap.

I'll take your silence as stunned by my talent.

As the tour of New England ends, it is time to migrate south for the winter. Not quite as far as the Arctic tern (11,000 miles) but lengthy nonetheless, well over a 1,000 mile drive for me, even longer for Dad and Danielle. Pat, meantime, faced several hours driving back to Detroit.

10:45 a.m. - Instead of flying home at 3 in the afternoon, I abandon the second-half of my ticket and decide to hitch a ride with Dad and Danielle on their way back to Miami. They need the rest during the 30-hour constant drive, and I figur I'll enjoy their company and get to see the country a bit more as we drive through 11 states on the way to Atlanta. We'd better stay positive and be shiny, happy people or risk going insane!

Patience is certainly a virtue for the first seven hours along the major corridor of Boston to Washington, D.C. Traffic is consistently heavy and construction is frequent. I drive from Boston through Connecticut, dealing with exits that pop up on either side of the interstate with little warning, lanes that end for no apparent reason and certainly no recognizable pattern for any of it.

2 p.m. - Since I haven't driven in the area before, Dad takes over the steering wheel for the drive through the New York City metro area, which stretches from southwest Connecticut to the eighth circle of hell. At least I believe that's what Dante was inferring about "Paradise Lost." Traffic is incredibly heavy (read: virtual standstill) the entire way and not until we snail through a monstrosity known as The Merge in central New Jersey (motto: "You don't like our f***in' roads then kiss my f***in' a**.") are we able to blink.

Overheard Danielle say to Pat on the cell phone: "We had a blinger of a time getting through New Jersey."

She's right. The experience certainly makes it easier for me to continue espousing my disgust for the area. I'll keep New York bashing to a minimum, because God knows that Dad and Danielle heard enough biting comments as we sat in the parking lot of an interstate.

I think every bridge and road in the Northeast was being redone this summer. Not that it helps, as all of them are bumpy and ruinous for shocks. It seems that all the money from the tolls is being used by Democrats to pay for jewelry and nice dinners for their intern girlfriends. But it's not just construction that slows us down; there are also phantom menaces: no sign of any feasible reason, just a bad combination of hills and volume.

Tolls paid on the way home: New Jersey turnpike = $5.50 Into Delaware = $3 Out of Delaware = $2 Baltimore tunnel = $1

Traffic truly sucks from Boston to Delaware (motto: "Did you get lost on the way to Philadelphia?") and finally eases up in Maryland. Yankee drivers are surrounding us, and the tolls are frequent and exorbitant ("Is that an emergency lane? Let's charge ten bucks to break down in it!").

One lesson learned: to better get through the toll area, always select the booths on the right; only idiots go to the left thinking they'll have an easier ride. This is also a metaphor for politics.

As you can see, we badly need to get south of the Mason-Dixon Line if only that we can predict the idiots we know better than the idiot drivers we don't know. Also, we can pick up the Red Sox game via Baltimore radio since they're playing the Orioles, so that passes the time nicely.

6 p.m. - Finally end the constant jam when we get into Maryland and exit for dinner outside Baltimore. Cracker Barrel has 50 people waiting in the rocking chairs for a table, so we decide a quick meal at Burger King is warranted. The service stinks (all of our orders were wrong), but at least adjoining the King we were also glad to be below the Mason-Dixon line if only that we finally find a Krispy Kreme! All hail the doughnut god!

7:08 p.m. - 10:30 p.m. I drive through Baltimore, the nation's capital and past Richmond before stopping for gas, restroom and snacks outside Petersburg.

11 p.m. - Dad drives for the next hour-and-a-half, I take a power nap for the final leg of Durham, N.C. to Atlanta, and Dad and Danielle catch some Zzzz for their 10 hours left to Miami.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 19 - POTATO DAY

Mmmm....French fries. Need chili-cheese fries. Before you health nuts judge, remember that people who eat greasy fries live longer than those who don't eat. But BBQ flavored Fritos potato chips will hold me over. And lots of caffeine.

And miles to go before I sleep... Number of miles traveled on the trip:
Where to Where	Miles
Atlanta, GA to Hartford, CT (SkyMiles)	990
Hartford to Bennington, VT (driving)	114
Bennington to Cooperstown, NY (round-trip)	220
Bennington to Bar Harbor, ME	383
Bar Harbor to Boston, MA	276
Boston to Atlanta	1085
Total: 3,068 (4,597.1 miles for Dad and Danielle).

12:30 a.m. - I figure I have to have caught hepatitis from at least one of the nasty restrooms on this drive.

As Dad and Danielle snooze, I enjoy - as always - the overnight/early morning drive on abandoned interstates with the radio playing tunes or catching 10 AM stations around the country carrying Art Bell. But there's little better in this world than listening to 80's hits at 3 a.m. on the open highway (hey, if you can't get up to "What a Feeling", the Flashdance theme, then you may not have a pulse).

5:30 a.m. - After 19 hours my re-entry into Atlanta is sacrilegiously glorious. No, I'm not on the back of a donkey with people waving palm fronds at me. Will driving a Jeep Cherokee while people give me the finger suffice?

What have I learned over the last week? Well, 100 Jeffs were surveyed and 95 agree that we haven't learned much, other than I need to pack a lunch when eating in New England, and to spend two weeks there instead of one.