Got up at five and left about six. Excellent highways with no lights nearly all the way. We went over several of the bridges we'd sailed under a short time ago. Felt sort of strange.
Everything was going perfectly until we hit a traffic jam near New Haven that slowed us down to about five MPH. We'd left plenty early, so we weren't worried about getting to the airport on time; we were worried about my getting the car back to Avis on time. The rain was coming down pretty heavy by then, so even when we got past the construction work that had slowed down traffic, we couldn't go fast.
When we got to Bridgeport, the rain was coming down in torrents, and traffic was moving about 40 MPH. A big old car came up on my left, doing about 50. Just as he got next to me, he hit a big puddle and skidded out of control. In an instant, his front end was in my lane, sideways, just a few feet in front of me. I thought, "This is it." I didn't believe there was any way to avoid a collision, but I hit the brakes as hard as I dared and swerved as far to the right as I dared. The rental car had anti-lock brakes and didn't skid, but I nearly hit the vehicle on my right. Fortunately, its driver was on the ball and swerved to his right. Then the driver on my left (or actually in front of me) regained control and got back in his lane, and I got back in my lane, and we all went merrily on our way as if nothing had happened. That was the closest I've ever come to a really disastrous accident. If we'd collided in that heavy traffic, there could have been a fifty car pileup. It's incredible we all came out of it unscathed.
Roy told me later he hadn't been worried about being killed or even injured, but he fully expected a collision and figured he wouldn't be able to get to the airport in time to catch his plane.
The next rest stop we came to, we pulled off to relax for a few minutes. There was a McDonald's there (in fact, McDonald's and Mobil Oil must have bribed the State of Connecticut; every stop along the highway had nothing but a McDonald's and a Mobil station), so we went in and had a snack. Roy drank a cup of coffee, and I drank some orange juice and water. My mouth had been really dry.
In the restroom, I talked with a woman whose car had been two or three cars behind me at the time of the near miss, and she'd seen the whole thing. She said someone had sideswiped her car, but they couldn't stop.
Fortunately, the rain let up and traffic returned to normal. We crossed the Throg's Neck Bridge into the Bronx, expecting to see lots of signs directing us to Kennedy Airport, but we didn't see any. It's a good thing I'd studied the road map carefully before we left and knew we had to take the Grand Central Expressway, so we turned down that. Finally saw one tiny little sign for JFK, but it couldn't be seen until we'd already turned, so if I hadn't known where to go, we'd have missed it. A few miles later, we saw another tiny sign telling us to take Exit 17 for Kennedy Airport, so we did. We found ourselves in a residential neighborhood on a street that didn't look as if it could possibly go near an airport, but after several more miles, we saw a sign saying to turn left for JFK. After that, it was easy; the signs got bigger and more frequent.
When we entered the road into the airport, there were signs telling us which road to take to get to the various airlines. Tower Air, which Roy was taking, was at Terminal 1, color-coded green, so we followed the green signs to Terminal 1. Imagine our shock when we approached the terminal and the road was blocked off! The terminal was surrounded by police cars and fire engines, and they wouldn't let us in. We don't know if there'd been a bomb scare or a fire or what. We drove past the terminal on the outside road and saw a bunch of people standing around on the grass with their luggage. Roy wanted me to drop him off there, but there was a bus right in back of me, so I couldn't stop. I turned left towards the parking lot, and then saw another little side road that turned back towards where the people were standing, so I turned down it and stopped long enough for Roy to unload his suitcases. Then he crossed the street and joined the crowd, and I took off for New Bedford.
It was eleven o'clock when I left the airport. I'd been driving for five hours, and had to drive five hours back, half asleep. I stopped at the first McDonald's and drank a cup of hot chocolate to help me stay awake. I also opened both vents and blew cold air in my face. The rain had let up, thank goodness, but I hit the same traffic jam going back that we'd hit coming down. Nothing was moving, so when I saw an exit for the old Boston Post Road, I turned off on it. There were a lot of lights, but between lights traffic at least moved. After a few miles, I returned to 95, hoping I'd be past the construction, but instead I was right at the beginning of it. Eventually I got by it, however, and then traffic thinned out and rolled. Went through New Haven a little before two and reached Rhode Island by three. Figured I had it made by then, as long as I didn't fall asleep at the wheel or hit another traffic jam or get clobbered or whatever. I was afraid there'd be heavy rush-hour traffic going through Providence, but even though it was 3:30, traffic rolled smoothly on the freeways. Got through Fall River no problem. What joy when I saw a sign saying, "New Bedford 9 mis."! But then I had a new worry--the gas gauge was getting perilously close to empty and there wasn't a service station in sight. All I'd need would be to run out of gas a few miles from the New Bedford Airport, but she kept going. There were more signs for the New Bedford Airport than there'd been for JFK. As soon as I got off the freeway, there was a gas station. I turned into it and filled the tank. Actually, I should say the attendant filled the tank. They don't have self-service here, and gas is twenty cents cheaper than it is in California. The car took 12 gallons, which cost $13, so for a little more than $40, I'd driven all the way to New York and back.
I got to the Avis counter at 4:10, with twenty minutes to spare. What a relief to be out from under all that pressure!
Walked quite a ways to a bus stop and waited for a bus. The bus ride only lasted about five minutes, and then I had to walk another mile back to the marina. Got to the boat around six o'clock and collapsed in a little heap.
Well, that's it. The Jofian won't be going any place until Roy returns the middle of November, so the log will be put on the shelf until then. Adios.
(Since somehow it just happens that the next log begins Tuesday, Nov 23, 1993 and the Thanksgiving log for 1993 is on Nov 25th, as is Thanksgiving this year. I will post the next log this evening and continue.)
No comments:
Post a Comment