From the Archives: Vol 1

 Ages ago I use to "blog" in massive email listings, and this was one of them! I use to call them "Stud Reports" (a name change from "Subway Report").  It was summer . . . Enjoy.

Stud Report (NEXT TIME, I'LL DRIVE)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

         Hey Everybody. I'm home from my fantastic vacation inside a
vacation. Actually, I've been home for over a week now, but my days
currently have three parts: Work, taking it easy after work, and sleep. I
have been an active participant of all three and didn't get a chance to
write about it (or I didn't feel like it). Anyway, let me fill you in.
Dad and I left for the beach around noon on Saturday (after one crazy
incident involving three runners, a nonexistent race, and my inability to
read). The four hour trip took about four hours, including two pit stops
and $1.50 in tolls, and kicked off a week of fun in the sun. We had sunny
days Saturday through Tuesday, a little rain on Wednesday, and an
overcast day on Thursday. I didn't get much of a tan (read: "sunburn")
during the few sunny days, but my skin didn't peel off either. Leprosy
scares are not fun for anyone. Rehobeth beach was very crowded, from
families with tons of kids to those old people who use the metal
detectors, and the water was pretty warm. Of course, the ocean was also
filled with floating jellyfish making swimming like a scene from
"Sphere," but they cleared out by mid week making my favorite past-time,
boogeyboarding, much more comfortable. I ended my week on Thursday with a
big multifamily dinner at a local seafood place, then it was off to
Impact (that mini-Creation in upper PA).
         Our original plan was to leave the beach Thursday morning, drive
home, repack, and drive to Impact  in an additional three hours allowing
us to arrive on Thursday evening. If you even bother to read the above
paragraph, you'll notice I had a huge dinner on Thursday night at "a
local seafood place." For a number of reasons, Curt and I stayed an
additional day at the beach before making our voyage to Barree, PA. This
change of plans also led to one great adventure. We finished dinner (and
some games at the boardwalk) around 10:30 on Thursday evening. We threw
our bags in the car, went over directions (Rt 1 to 896 to 40), said our
good byes to the 'rents, and took off. Curt had the first shift of
driving, I'd take the second. After all, it'd be easy: Rt 1 to 896 to 40,
pay a dollar toll then a $.50 toll on Rt. 1. I went to sleep (though you
can never really sleep well in a car) and woke up as Curt was paying the
dollar toll.

"You doin' OK?"
"Sure. Rt 1. to 968..."
"NO! 896!"
"Right, 896. Then 40. I'm fine"
"OK. MMmmmmphghg" (I fell back to sleep there)

We're driving along and making good time (always important to make good
time), not a problem in sight. I wake up again while Curt's paying a
toll. With a dollar bill!!! As we continue driving...

"Curt, what are you doing?!!"
"I stayed on Rt. 1"
"That's impossible. You were only supposed to pay 50 cents at the next
toll!"
"This toll was a dollar."
"A wha [much frustration]. . . that means it was wrong."
"Oh . . . Rt. 1 ends here. Which way should I turn?"
"IT ENDS!!?!!1"

So Curt inadvertently missed the sign that would take us to 896 and found
the end of Rt. 1. Not a problem (assuming roads should end like that).
For you see, when going to the beaches of Delaware (or east-coast MD)
from York, you can always just travel south and east. Pretty much any
combination of south and east roads will take you to some sign that can
take you to where you need to go. Or you'll just drive into the ocean.
Anyway, flip that philosophy around when you come home and just take any
roads that lead north or west. This plan is flawless as, at some point,
you'll run into either I83 (running North-South from PA to MD) or Rt30
(running East-West from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia), which intersect
about five miles from my home. We could not fail.

"OK, so where are we?"
"I don't know, but the road is ending. Which way should I turn?"
"Um, Rt 7 north or south. Make a left.
(We took Rt 7 north, by the way)
"Hey, that sign says '45 miles to Lancaster' Just follow that till
Lancaster, then wake me up. You'll be OK?"
"Sure. This road to Lancaster. Got it."
"Good."

I was sleeping for awhile and we seemed to be traveling smoothly.
Sometimes I'd wake up, look at Curt, his eyes would be unwavering on the
road, and I'd go back to sleep. Well, it must have been a deep sleep
because I missed whatever went down between Rt.7 and our current
position. Maybe it was aliens. Maybe it was poor road markings. Maybe my
car had a mind of it's own. But about 30 minutes after we started on Rt.
7, I woke to the gentle swaying of my car. I sat up in my seat, still
swaying, and . . .

"CURT! WE'RE IN THE WOODS!!!"
"Yeah, this is Rt.7."
"This can't be Rt.7 because this winding mountain trail isn't
Lancaster!!!"
"I didn't turn."
"That may be the case, but where are we?"
"On Rt. 7"
"Rt 7 left us when we weren't lost. Now we're lost."
"Oh."

For some reason, Curt was staying very calm throughout this ordeal (yes,
it was an ordeal). I was fully awake by now as we drove the curving, deep
woods of what we assumed to be lower Lancaster county. At any moment I
expected the road to morph from blacktop to dirt. Or we'd get attacked by
a bear. Or I'd have to go to the bathroom. Any one of things could have
been disastrous, so I remained calm, cool, and collected in the passenger
seat . . . for Curt's sake. After a while we found a sign reading "North
82" meaning we were still going the right direction. We drove through
the-town-time-forgot, past a huge building/techono-muasoleum that was
bigger than most countries, the town of Kennett, more woods, and a number
of other places. Yes, we were quite lost, but also having a good time
(still being alive and everything).
         After about an hour of driving north, we thought it was time to
turn west. At the next road with clear markings (so we didn't go down the
Clampet's driveway), we went west onto 372, which runs down to Rt. 74 in
lower Red Lion (near Airville and The Brogue). Ah, sweet salvation. I
took the wheel, Curt passed out, and we were home at ten til three. Here,
the REAL fun began. We packed different suitcases for a few days at
Impact (camping in tents and whatnot), took showers, checked e-mail, (I
went to sleep at 4:00) etc etc til 5:00 AM. Then, we threw luggage back
into the car, Curt fell asleep, I got a coffee (with 6 creams and an
equal amount of sugar), and drove for three hours to Barree, PA . . .
just in time for breakfast. Ahhh, what a trip.
         Our days at Impact were great as well, but like they say,
"Getting there is half the fun." I'll write again later this week with
the much awaited Top Ten List (so I guess there is still time for more
entries). Until then, drive safely. Later.

Clay "Where the heck am I?" Himmelberger