Boston, MA to Voorheesville, NY (September 3)

Distance covered today: 205 miles

Distance covered total: 205 miles

Estimated mileage remaining: 3,295 miles (94% left to go)

“Best case scenario is that he breaks down somewhere close, like Ohio, so that you don’t have to go so far to get him.” 

-Click and Clack the Tappet Brothers (a.k.a. the Car Talk guys) in a phone conversation with my dad prior to the trip

Car Talk is a weekly radio show on NPR, where people call in and ask car-related questions to a pair of MIT-educated auto mechanics.  The hosts, whose real names are Tom and Ray Magliozzi, have thick Boston accents and mostly just laugh while on the air, but they really do know cars.  My dad is an avid listener, and as I was in the process of planning this trip he couldn’t resist the temptation to cross off one of his own “Bucket List” items and give a call to his idols.

After passing the initial screening of their incoming calls, he was able to ask their opinion of the trip and discuss some of its technical aspects (like whether to use synthetic oil or not, among other things), but didn’t end up making the final round of editing for the show, so his conversation never hit the airwaves.  Even so, he still chatted with Click and Clack long enough for them to deliver some bad news.  Bottom line, they don’t think I’ll make it.  They explained that Honda Metropolitan engines just aren’t designed to withstand such rigor.  They also expressed surprise that a parent would knowingly allow their child to attempt such a journey of almost certain doom.

Normally nay-sayers paradoxically motivate people rather than deterring them, but these weren’t your average trash-talkers.  I readily acknowledge their expertise and deeply respect their opinions, so news of their skepticism sowed a seed of doubt in my head.  But honor-bound to go for it, I will try to defy the Car Talk guys much the way the tragic heroes of Greek mythology tried in vain to evade their fates as foretold by the Oracle at Delphi!  Only hopefully with different results.

Appropriately, I would be starting my journey from the Tappet Brothers’ home turf in Boston, MA which begs the logical question, why start this journey in Boston, which is further east than my native Voorheesville, NY?

Well, I certainly could’ve hit the road in Voorheesville and had an exhilarating ride that would have covered about 95% of the country’s girth.  But if you’re gonna be covering that much ground, why not bump it up a notch to achieve the more fulfilling 100% stretch from sea to shining sea (or in this case, from the snarled knot of traffic called Boston to the snarled knot of traffic in The Bay).  In addition to making the trip a true coast-to-coast endeavor, by starting in Boston and driving home, I would be afforded a valuable “dress-rehearsal” run to test out how much ground I can cover in a day, how long I can stand being on the bike, if this is even going to be possible, etc.

The trip began from my friend Rob’s apartment in Brookline, MA, practically in the shadow of the Prudential Center, and soon I passed through Kenmore Square, the eastern terminus of U.S. Route 20, which stretches all the way to the Oregon coast.  In the coming days I would become intimately familiar with 20, as it would be my principal means of transit as far as Cleveland, OH.

Cruising the streets of Boston not only marked the start of my journey, but also my first time driving the Metro in the heart of any city.  Initially I had regarded city driving with some trepidation as I wasn’t looking forward to the task of jockeying for position against other motorists, but I guess it’s called the Honda Metropolitan for a reason- this thing is at its best on city streets.  The Metro can keep the pace in the lower speed limit environment, and weighing in at just 180 or so pounds, its acceleration is ideal for zipping from light to light.  (Not to mention that parking- the bane of most urban drivers the world over- is the easiest part with a scooter.  Forget circling the block like a bird of prey waiting for a spot that never materializes.  All the Metro requires is about 4 square feet of road or sidewalk and you’re set.)  All in all, it was love at first ride with city streets, and I knew I’d be looking forward to each urban oasis on the trip going forward.

As I climbed away from sea level, Boston blurred into its web of suburbs with delightfully English sounding names, and I broke away from 20 to take Massachusetts State Highway 9 for much of the afternoon.  After Worcester (pronounced wuh-stah by the locals), 9 snakes its way through some of the most sparsely populated swaths of The Bay State before eventually rejoining 20 on the extreme western edge of the state.

I stopped for lunch just east of Ware, MA in what I would describe as the first pocket of true wilderness that I encountered.  Already, the initial thrill of hitting the open road was beginning to wear off, and in its place my butt and back were beginning to hurt. This pain would only increase throughout the afternoon, as the miles piled up and crawled by at the snail’s pace of 35 mph.

The Quabbin. Weird to think that the water in my water bottle had come full circle, after being filled in Boston a couple hours earlier.

Maybe it was my interest in municipal water supplies or maybe I was just thirsty, but whatever the reason, shortly after lunch I couldn’t resist a quick detour to see the Quabbin Reservoir with my own eyes, or as it’s known colloquially, “The Watering Hole of The Commonwealth” (just kidding, I made that up).  The Quabbin is nestled in central Massachusetts and is the primary source of Boston’s drinking water, 65 miles away.  Back in the late 1930s, the Reservoir was formed via damming, forcing the permanent closure of four towns that were flooded in the process.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to be from a town that was flooded and forever submerged under someone else’s drinking water by the construction of a dam.  I suppose you’d be able to empathize with Spock, who had his home planet blown up.  Damn.  (Pun kind of intended).

The detour to the Quabbin only temporarily relieved my back and rump, both unaccustomed to the world of extreme scooting.  Winding up and down through the Berkshire Mountains on the remote stretch of road to Pittsfield, my body really began to ache.

The hours dragged on, but mercifully the New York border appeared before me at long last.  I stopped for a quick picture of the welcoming sign, and felt a true sense of accomplishment to have one state and one mountain range behind me.  Passage into my home state and hitting the familiar roads of the Capital Region provided a much-needed morale boost as I entered the home stretch for Day One.  The ultimate reward came as I descended into Rensselaer, which offers a stunning view of the Albany skyline on the opposite banks of the Hudson.

One state down, a dirty dozen left to go.

I have seldom been as happy to return home to Terpsi’s Acres as I was after completing my 10-hour marathon on the scooter.  My joy to be back however, was eclipsed mostly by my debilitating fatigue, but also by the sadness of having to leave again so soon and the revelation that this was going to be a challenge several orders of magnitude beyond what I had expected.  Maybe the Car Talk guys are right.  Maybe there’s a reason you don’t hear about people scooting from coast to coast.

Shout-outs:
-Rob for generously welcoming me into his Boston home on the eve of my departure.
-Family crammed in a van in the Berkshires who honked for me to pull over so that they could ask directions. Sadly, I couldn't help them.
-The hundreds of Massachusetts residents having garage sales (or "tag" sales as they're apparently called).  I would've stopped if I had more cargo room.


Town(s) of the Day: Dalton, MA; Albany, NY