NEVER SAY NEVER

You want to buy us a 'what' and do 'what'?????

In the early 1970’s my parents lived in the Adirondacks.  Faithfully, I’d drive to see them at least once a month from Worcester, Massachusetts and more often than not, I made the trip solo.  I enjoyed the almost 4 hour open road journey and the freedom of the road that guided me through the Berkshires. Each passing mile marker brought me closer to memories of childhood summers and smells of the old Victorian house that stood grandly above the clear mountain lake.

Travelling west on the Mass Pike, I sailed along the open road singing along to my favorites Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Bob Dylan and James Taylor. My dreamy state of a humming engine and the blaring songs were all I needed  until I pulled off of the Northway at the Saratoga Springs exit. Now the radio was turned off so I could simply enjoy the ride.

I looked forward to this two-lane road which would lead me straight to my folk’s driveway in Lake Luzerne, NY.   

This was what I came to call the 'homestretch'.

In my mind I was almost there. My European-made car could now do what it did best – tightly embrace miles of winding asphalt as it climbed higher altitudes into fragrances of pines that awakened the senses. This was the fun part.

Sometimes,  suddenly and without warning, something would happen as I tested the law enforcement of speed zones…an encounter of the WORST KIND.

Dead ahead, a slow-moving, bobbing and weaving white box on wheels would appear; as I tried to blink away the apparition before me, reality hit like a kick in the gut…

THE DREADED RECREATIONAL VEHICLE.

 
ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????????

My thoughts became audible, loud and anxious. "These things are a MENACE to the real owners of the road" – it got worse and went something like this:
Who the (expletive) would be insane enough to go on an (expletive) vacation in an (expletive) aluminum box!!! I was livid.

The fast time I had made on the highway was now compromised. I was doing HALF of the speed limit and the moron had his left blinker on - there was no left turn for miles.

I could do only one thing for my safety and the others on the road. I slumped in my seat, downshifted to 3rd gear and became the first in line of what was to be a Samba dance of drivers who all shared my pain.

The snake-like line of vehicles became the prisoners of MARGE AND HARRY FROM OSWEGO, NY which was airbrushed on the spare tire cover on the back of their RV.

I made a promise that evening so many years ago to myself - I swore to never, ever own one of those gawd awful things.

Never say never.