Nick: Yesterday found us leaving New Hampshire and heading back to Boston to pick up Craig, a friend from college. This is no small moment because, with the exception of taking Dom to and from work, the road trip has always been the two of us. Craig kept up though. It worked.
Brian: After a couple of practice runs, Craig could Seabiscuit with the best of them.
Nick: Our first stop was the Sam Adams brewery which gives free tours and free beer tastings. I swear. The tour was sort of interesting, though I’m proud to report that Brian and I actually knew almost everything the tour guide told us about the brewing process. Maybe we should brew our own stuff. We are now accepting suggestions for the name of that beer, and any flavors you readers think we should try to capture. Anyway, the tour was cool, and the beer was cold and delicious. Actually, we got to try a Belgian Blonde that they haven’t even decided to sell yet so that was pretty fancy. After the brewery, we were off to Providence, Rhode Island to see Rachel and Nick (more friends from school.)
Brian: If we are lucky that won’t be the only Belgian Blonde on this trip. Yeah, I know that joke is extremely obvious. Rachel and Nick were wonderful; they fed us burgers and introduced us to their friends. Rachel is getting a promotion, and Nick’s guitar building has loosely affiliated him with Barack Obama, so again, we find ourselves mooching off of friends who have wisely chosen a life of success. I have not-so-wisely quit my job in the worst economy in 20 years in order to travel the country in search of fiber-glass Indian statues…
Nick: The one in Skowhegan was wooden.
Brian: Truth. Craig and I fulfilled a tradition of beating the arcade classic known as Final Fight before we fell asleep. If you ever get a chance, try and find the enemy biographies for that game. Among them are a transsexual cop, an autistic salad-lover, and the final boss is a crossbow toting maniac in a wheelchair. The game is unique in that the plot is revealed in the closing credits; until then you simply seem to be a ‘roided out dude in cut-off jeans with a penchant for kicking the crap out of societal rejects (I shouldn’t have said that). Game on!
Nick: Rachel promised us Double-Down sandwiches in the morning. For those of you that don’t closely follow KFC and all of their latest developments, the Double-Down sandwich is a cheese and bacon sandwich slathered in “Colonel’s Sauce” with fried chicken breasts for buns. This country is out of control. Also, we watched “She-Wolf” by Shakira followed by “She He Wolf.” Again. If you’ve never seen these two Youtube vidoes back to back, get it done.
Brian: Youtube has single-handedly revolutionized the amount of time people waste every day, and for that, we thank them. Alright, thanks for reading. Brian and Nick out.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Lunenburg, MA through Manchester, NH
Brian: Perhaps the greatest morning so far, except for ninja camping under the cover of fog, was waking up to a massive breakfast of steak leftovers and sausage scramble at Dave’s lake house. As I recall, the sink was filled with empty bottles. And, on the very last piece of bait we had, I caught my first fish. Nick had pulled in about thirty-five (five with one piece of steak) and Dave had caught one earlier that morning so I needed to reel one in so as to not seem lame. What can I say, I’ve got clutch. Drinking and fishing: Hemmingway would have been proud.
Nick: Mm. Next stop was a nice, local restaurant off the side of the road with one of the weirdest waitresses we’ve had so far. And we’ve actually had quite a few. It was hard to explain really. She didn’t say anything super weird, per se. She just had a lot of really bizarre gestures and head nods, and she was way too enthusiastic about things like lemons in water. It was as though everything we decided had grave consequences. Maybe they did. Either way, we made it out alive and headed for a coffee shop in Manchester, NH where Brian’s friend Jeremy was going to put us up for the night. Though the name escapes me, the place rocked. Incredibly nice old ladies ran it, everything was homemade, and the décor was sort of all over the place.
Brian: It was called “Jewella and the Beanstalk”. And yeah, the ladies were maybe the nicest wait staff we’ve had on this trip, although like you said we’ve had some super weirdos. More to come on that. So Jeremy, Jesse, and their delightful feline companions welcomed us into their apartment with open arms/paws. We chatted for a while, had a few beers, and headed out to a local establishment were the appetizers were 50% off. I was introduced by Nick to a delicious Belgian brew named Leffe, which I hereby recommend to all readers. The night ended with Moxie shots (no mixers, Moxie is stiff enough on its own) and a long game of Apples to Apples in which I was schooled. Maybe I just don’t read people that well. Anyway, another shout out and thanks to Jeremy and Jesse for allowing us to crash on their floor. And laser-pointering the cats. I could do that all day.
Nick: We ended the night by sharing youtube videos. She-Wolf, by Shakira is the song of the day. Youtube the video “She He Wolf” to find out why. Adios.
Nick: Mm. Next stop was a nice, local restaurant off the side of the road with one of the weirdest waitresses we’ve had so far. And we’ve actually had quite a few. It was hard to explain really. She didn’t say anything super weird, per se. She just had a lot of really bizarre gestures and head nods, and she was way too enthusiastic about things like lemons in water. It was as though everything we decided had grave consequences. Maybe they did. Either way, we made it out alive and headed for a coffee shop in Manchester, NH where Brian’s friend Jeremy was going to put us up for the night. Though the name escapes me, the place rocked. Incredibly nice old ladies ran it, everything was homemade, and the décor was sort of all over the place.
Brian: It was called “Jewella and the Beanstalk”. And yeah, the ladies were maybe the nicest wait staff we’ve had on this trip, although like you said we’ve had some super weirdos. More to come on that. So Jeremy, Jesse, and their delightful feline companions welcomed us into their apartment with open arms/paws. We chatted for a while, had a few beers, and headed out to a local establishment were the appetizers were 50% off. I was introduced by Nick to a delicious Belgian brew named Leffe, which I hereby recommend to all readers. The night ended with Moxie shots (no mixers, Moxie is stiff enough on its own) and a long game of Apples to Apples in which I was schooled. Maybe I just don’t read people that well. Anyway, another shout out and thanks to Jeremy and Jesse for allowing us to crash on their floor. And laser-pointering the cats. I could do that all day.
Nick: We ended the night by sharing youtube videos. She-Wolf, by Shakira is the song of the day. Youtube the video “She He Wolf” to find out why. Adios.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Cambridge, MA through Lunenburg, MA
Brian: Big news! We finally slept in past 10 o’clock. I don’t know about Nick, but it’s a good thing I did, because that morning I wasn’t exactly feeling 100%. Nothing cures what ails you like UBurger, so Nick and I made that our first stop of the day. If you ever make it out to Kenmore Square, I recommend the Boom Burger; it’s covered in fried jalapenos and spicy cheese.
Nick: I’m all about the Hot Chick sandwich. Unlike its human equivalent, it never disappoints.
Brian: Words to live by. Speaking of which, yesterday’s blog was written in a Dunkin’ Donuts about 45 minutes outside of Boston. There we met an older gentleman in a suit, who later declared himself to be a “Big-Mouth Boston Lawyer.” He was curious as to what we could be working on so furiously, and so we explained to him about our road trip (a 30-second sound byte we have down pat). He wanted in. We told him he could have a quote in the blog. Here it is.
“Don’t get divorced.” (And then he laughed maniacally but I’m not sure if it’s part of the quote or not.)
We meet the best people on this trip.
Nick: After Dunkin’, we headed out to Brian’s friend Dave’s lake house. It’s clearly Autumn around here by the way, and the drive is getting to be really beautiful. We got to the lake, talked with Dave for a while, then headed out to… Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. A giant Indian statue.
Brian: Believe it. I think it would be not only possible but quite easy to go on a 3-month road trip just seeking out BFI’s; the hard part would be surviving the suicidal depression that would surely follow.
Nick: Where do these monolithic natives come from? Who is creating them? Just what are they up to? Are they really just statues, or might they be robots? I grow increasingly suspicious that a mad scientist somewhere has a remote that can activate their “Kill all humans” mode. But maybe I’m just paranoid. This particular Indian seemed docile, so we snapped a few pics for posterity then took Dave’s boat for a high-speed ride around the lake.
Brian: We saw a Bald Eagle out there.
Nick: We did. Quite majestic. Back at the docks, we went fishing for a while with mixed results. Giant steaks and locally made sausages for dinner, bonfire illuminating the table on the beach.
Brian: We took the boat into the middle of the lake at night and looked up at the sky. When you spend a couple nights in the city it’s easy to forget that there are actually a boot load of stars up there. A growler of local beer and some hookah for dessert.
Nick: Does life get much better? Unlikely. We fished a little more, then put a Chuck Norris flick in till we all passed out. Brian snored.
Brian: It’s beyond my control. Thanks to Dave for an awesome night of manliness, mystery, and wonder. Our paths will surely cross again. Song of the day: Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof off the Sucker) by Parliament. Thanks again for reading. If you like the blog, tell your friends. Out.
Nick: I’m all about the Hot Chick sandwich. Unlike its human equivalent, it never disappoints.
Brian: Words to live by. Speaking of which, yesterday’s blog was written in a Dunkin’ Donuts about 45 minutes outside of Boston. There we met an older gentleman in a suit, who later declared himself to be a “Big-Mouth Boston Lawyer.” He was curious as to what we could be working on so furiously, and so we explained to him about our road trip (a 30-second sound byte we have down pat). He wanted in. We told him he could have a quote in the blog. Here it is.
“Don’t get divorced.” (And then he laughed maniacally but I’m not sure if it’s part of the quote or not.)
We meet the best people on this trip.
Nick: After Dunkin’, we headed out to Brian’s friend Dave’s lake house. It’s clearly Autumn around here by the way, and the drive is getting to be really beautiful. We got to the lake, talked with Dave for a while, then headed out to… Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. A giant Indian statue.
Brian: Believe it. I think it would be not only possible but quite easy to go on a 3-month road trip just seeking out BFI’s; the hard part would be surviving the suicidal depression that would surely follow.
Nick: Where do these monolithic natives come from? Who is creating them? Just what are they up to? Are they really just statues, or might they be robots? I grow increasingly suspicious that a mad scientist somewhere has a remote that can activate their “Kill all humans” mode. But maybe I’m just paranoid. This particular Indian seemed docile, so we snapped a few pics for posterity then took Dave’s boat for a high-speed ride around the lake.
Brian: We saw a Bald Eagle out there.
Nick: We did. Quite majestic. Back at the docks, we went fishing for a while with mixed results. Giant steaks and locally made sausages for dinner, bonfire illuminating the table on the beach.
Brian: We took the boat into the middle of the lake at night and looked up at the sky. When you spend a couple nights in the city it’s easy to forget that there are actually a boot load of stars up there. A growler of local beer and some hookah for dessert.
Nick: Does life get much better? Unlikely. We fished a little more, then put a Chuck Norris flick in till we all passed out. Brian snored.
Brian: It’s beyond my control. Thanks to Dave for an awesome night of manliness, mystery, and wonder. Our paths will surely cross again. Song of the day: Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof off the Sucker) by Parliament. Thanks again for reading. If you like the blog, tell your friends. Out.
Cambridge, MA Night 2
Brian: When I woke up my air mattress was completely deflated. Oh well, I guess it was my turn. Guess what time we woke up. If you guessed 7:10 am, give yourself a pat on the back. If not, go back and read the last post slacker.
Nick: The day before, it was a damnable squawking from a crazed avian. This morning, it was a damnable crashing noise caused by a construction crew that seemed unusually industrious for Boston laborers at that time of day. But we really have grown quite fond of the early-to-rise mentality, so no biggie. After picking up a surprisingly elusive parking pass, we walked around BU a little and reminisced. Turns out, cute girls are still a rare commodity at this school. Next, we met up with Brian’s friend Dave and hit up Ye Olde Oyster House. Oldest restaurant in America, or so they say. The interior: very cool: The food: moderately delicious. The price: ouch.
Brian: But how can you put a price on the sensation of slurping down monstrous salty boogers?
Nick: …Gross. He means oysters, by the way. Sickos. We were having a good time talking with Dave though, and if you’ve been following our posts, you know that fine dining and classy social situations have been non-existent so far on this trip.
Brian: Not including Charriers of course.
Nick: Of course. So in keeping with the theme of sophistication, we strolled over to the North End to purchase and smoke some fancy cigars.
Brian: I knew that cigar parlors existed, but I have never been to one until yesterday. Buried underground in Boston’s North End is a small sin bar, which is a name I just came up with for a place that only serves tobacco and booze.
We tossed around some business ideas (as men with cigars are wont to do), one of which I think has great potential. I’ll just say it would be the next big thing in social networking sites. Look out world. So after Dave kindly gave us a ride back to Dom’s apartment, we decided to make it a casual night in. Funny how a couple glasses of Wild Turkey can change your mind about that sort of thing.
Nick: Leah came home and Dom grilled some chicken and vegetables. Our body’s were, are, and forever will be grateful for the first nutritious home cooked meal we’ve had in some time. Charged with a good dinner, we changed our minds about staying in and met a couple BU alumni out at a bar. The night, in my estimation, was a great success for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that we got women at the bar to by US drinks. I guess they were impressed with our tales from the road.
Brian: It was a good night for the feminism movement. Equality is good. Communism is evil. For the record, “Are you a communist?” is an awful pick-up line.
Nick: You found that out the hard way. After some raucous dancing with a very short, very frisky lady that I had to eventually hide from, we headed back home for our second consecutive night in the same place, a first on this trip.
Brian: Well, this blog brings us into the double digits for number of days on the road. Thanks to everyone who has supported this endeavor so far and a preemptive thanks for everyone who will support us in the future. It’s quite possible we haven’t even met you on Craigslist yet. Song of the day: Back in the USSR by The Beatles. Because, though we didn’t mention it, we grabbed a beverage at a Communism themed bar. I thought for sure that pick-up line was going to work.
Nick: …maybe next time (maybe never).
Brian: Out.
Nick: The day before, it was a damnable squawking from a crazed avian. This morning, it was a damnable crashing noise caused by a construction crew that seemed unusually industrious for Boston laborers at that time of day. But we really have grown quite fond of the early-to-rise mentality, so no biggie. After picking up a surprisingly elusive parking pass, we walked around BU a little and reminisced. Turns out, cute girls are still a rare commodity at this school. Next, we met up with Brian’s friend Dave and hit up Ye Olde Oyster House. Oldest restaurant in America, or so they say. The interior: very cool: The food: moderately delicious. The price: ouch.
Brian: But how can you put a price on the sensation of slurping down monstrous salty boogers?
Nick: …Gross. He means oysters, by the way. Sickos. We were having a good time talking with Dave though, and if you’ve been following our posts, you know that fine dining and classy social situations have been non-existent so far on this trip.
Brian: Not including Charriers of course.
Nick: Of course. So in keeping with the theme of sophistication, we strolled over to the North End to purchase and smoke some fancy cigars.
Brian: I knew that cigar parlors existed, but I have never been to one until yesterday. Buried underground in Boston’s North End is a small sin bar, which is a name I just came up with for a place that only serves tobacco and booze.
We tossed around some business ideas (as men with cigars are wont to do), one of which I think has great potential. I’ll just say it would be the next big thing in social networking sites. Look out world. So after Dave kindly gave us a ride back to Dom’s apartment, we decided to make it a casual night in. Funny how a couple glasses of Wild Turkey can change your mind about that sort of thing.
Nick: Leah came home and Dom grilled some chicken and vegetables. Our body’s were, are, and forever will be grateful for the first nutritious home cooked meal we’ve had in some time. Charged with a good dinner, we changed our minds about staying in and met a couple BU alumni out at a bar. The night, in my estimation, was a great success for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that we got women at the bar to by US drinks. I guess they were impressed with our tales from the road.
Brian: It was a good night for the feminism movement. Equality is good. Communism is evil. For the record, “Are you a communist?” is an awful pick-up line.
Nick: You found that out the hard way. After some raucous dancing with a very short, very frisky lady that I had to eventually hide from, we headed back home for our second consecutive night in the same place, a first on this trip.
Brian: Well, this blog brings us into the double digits for number of days on the road. Thanks to everyone who has supported this endeavor so far and a preemptive thanks for everyone who will support us in the future. It’s quite possible we haven’t even met you on Craigslist yet. Song of the day: Back in the USSR by The Beatles. Because, though we didn’t mention it, we grabbed a beverage at a Communism themed bar. I thought for sure that pick-up line was going to work.
Nick: …maybe next time (maybe never).
Brian: Out.
Bar Harbor, ME through Cambridge, MA
Brian: I’ve never been so in touch with my Circadian rhythm in my life as I have been over the last couple days. Nick and I have been waking up naturally at 7:10 on the dot almost every day this week, and as soon as the sun goes down we are ready to pass out. Don’t worry, we’ve been compensating for this healthy lifestyle by remaining as stationary as possible for the majority of the day, as well as consuming Arby’s at every opportunity. So other than the most annoying bird song I’ve ever heard in my life, the morning was uneventful, and I think I speak for both of us when I say we were done with Maine. I wonder if we should have picked up some Moxie on the way out…
Nick: By wonder, you mean you’re frustrated beyond any consolation that we don’t have Moxie.
Brian: Sure
Nick: Well, as Brian says, we were sick of Maine and ready for some normal human contact. Though we passed through Pittsburgh, we still hadn’t been into a city yet. Thus, Boston was the next stop. The sky grew dark and blusterous as we entered the city limits, and I would have it no other way. First order of business: hit the Dugout. The Dugout, for you poor souls that have never experienced its wonderment, is the dive bar directly under my old college apartment where we used to while away many nights shooting pool and making life long enemies with people with aggressive facial hair.
Brian: Nedstache...
Nick: Sadly, he wasn’t there. BUT in no time at all we struck up conversation with a lively fellow named Robert, Bobby, Bob, and Rob alternatively.
Brian: Imagine a coked-up Jim Carrey with a gambling addiction, an alcohol problem, and a voice as smooth as velvet. It was 3:30 pm, he was drunk, and he informed us that he had an interview for a voice-over job in about twenty minutes. Naturally, we wanted a sample. But first, he insisted on buying us shots, and for old times sake we selected doubles of Southern Comfort. We clinked our glasses and threw the sweet whiskey down our gullets, only to find that Bob was only capable of delicate sips. What kind of alcoholic was he, anyway? So Nick and I put our sunglasses on and assumed the roles of talent scouts to help get Robbie prepared for his big chance. The ridiculously random role-play lasted about 10 minutes, and we have a 3-minute sample of the audio on Nick’s iPhone. It is my personal mission to figure out how to post the audio clip on the blog.
Nick: It was an interesting encounter. So after he went his way, our old college buddies AJ Duffy and Shaun Lai showed up. We caught up, talked about where we all were in life, and they gave us their business cards. I guess that’s just what you do when you have a job. Brian and I wouldn’t know.
Brian: Homeless, unemployed, uninsured…
Nick: After shooting the breeze for a while, we got dropped off at my old roommate Dom’s new apartment in Cambridge. We hung out, caught up, and admired the intensely high ceilings of his place. Then hit the sack. It seemed like forever since I had been in a real bed, and I don’t think either of us wasted anytime falling asleep. Fin.
Brian: Yeah, not much more to say. Thanks to AJ’s girlfriend for the taco and burrito. Song of the day: The Boys are Back in Town – Thin Lizzy. Out.
Nick: By wonder, you mean you’re frustrated beyond any consolation that we don’t have Moxie.
Brian: Sure
Nick: Well, as Brian says, we were sick of Maine and ready for some normal human contact. Though we passed through Pittsburgh, we still hadn’t been into a city yet. Thus, Boston was the next stop. The sky grew dark and blusterous as we entered the city limits, and I would have it no other way. First order of business: hit the Dugout. The Dugout, for you poor souls that have never experienced its wonderment, is the dive bar directly under my old college apartment where we used to while away many nights shooting pool and making life long enemies with people with aggressive facial hair.
Brian: Nedstache...
Nick: Sadly, he wasn’t there. BUT in no time at all we struck up conversation with a lively fellow named Robert, Bobby, Bob, and Rob alternatively.
Brian: Imagine a coked-up Jim Carrey with a gambling addiction, an alcohol problem, and a voice as smooth as velvet. It was 3:30 pm, he was drunk, and he informed us that he had an interview for a voice-over job in about twenty minutes. Naturally, we wanted a sample. But first, he insisted on buying us shots, and for old times sake we selected doubles of Southern Comfort. We clinked our glasses and threw the sweet whiskey down our gullets, only to find that Bob was only capable of delicate sips. What kind of alcoholic was he, anyway? So Nick and I put our sunglasses on and assumed the roles of talent scouts to help get Robbie prepared for his big chance. The ridiculously random role-play lasted about 10 minutes, and we have a 3-minute sample of the audio on Nick’s iPhone. It is my personal mission to figure out how to post the audio clip on the blog.
Nick: It was an interesting encounter. So after he went his way, our old college buddies AJ Duffy and Shaun Lai showed up. We caught up, talked about where we all were in life, and they gave us their business cards. I guess that’s just what you do when you have a job. Brian and I wouldn’t know.
Brian: Homeless, unemployed, uninsured…
Nick: After shooting the breeze for a while, we got dropped off at my old roommate Dom’s new apartment in Cambridge. We hung out, caught up, and admired the intensely high ceilings of his place. Then hit the sack. It seemed like forever since I had been in a real bed, and I don’t think either of us wasted anytime falling asleep. Fin.
Brian: Yeah, not much more to say. Thanks to AJ’s girlfriend for the taco and burrito. Song of the day: The Boys are Back in Town – Thin Lizzy. Out.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Exeter, NH through Bar Harbor, ME
Brian: By now it goes without saying that we cannot post the blog as frequently as we can write it, because our Intermet situation is chaotic at best. Thanks for bearing with us on the days when multiple entries are posted simultaneously, and also on the days when you don’t hear from us at all. Also thanks in advance for putting up with what is sure to be a bipolar post; the past two days have run us through an emotional gauntlet. We’ve seen some of the best and the worst-
Nick: Skowhegan.
Brian: Gesundheit. –things that this country has to offer, and it is our great pleasure to share them with you in this format. We left Ryan’s quaint pad in Exeter, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle America’s finest attractions, and headed north into Maine for two reasons. One, it was the only convenient time to check that state off our list, and two, Maine hosts a variety of world record holding inanimate objects.
Nick: Or so they claim…
Brian: I too am skeptical friend. But let’s not jump the world’s largest gun. We ambitiously created a list of 8-10 towns and set out for the first one at around 8am, within which resided the world’s largest chocolate animal carving. Naturally, it was a moose. And I’d have to say I was pretty impressed. The candy shop itself was quite remarkable, in that it was like stepping into a time machine to the 50’s, or so the cashier’s haircuts would lead you to believe. One of them started questioning us about our trip, and she was surprised when we revealed to her that there were several record setting attractions in her state. Despite her surprise, she had no problem giving us directions to the world’s largest boot, and the world’s most visited lighthouse. We left confused, but ultimately satisfied by the experience.
Nick: After the moose, we hit up a giant Indian statue a couple towns over. The Indian was not special. He was large, sure, but it would not be accurate to say he towered oppressively over the landscape. And I think that’s really what Monday was supposed to be about, wouldn’t you say?
Brian: Yup.
Nick: Next on the list was the world’s largest rotating globe. The globe gets respect, as it was pretty gigantinormous, and it did rotate majestically. There was also a map store that specialized in atlases, but as we’ve grown rather fond of L.U.C.Y.-
Brian: That’s our car’s GPS system
Nick: We didn’t want to make her jealous with an additional navigational tool.
Brian: Once she gave us wrong directions for two days after we used the iPhone to find the nearest Arby’s.
Nick: After the globe, we got a little turned around then eventually made our way to the world’s largest big boy sculpture? Something like that? It was distinctly Sovietesque, and as such, was terrifying. And also not really that big at all. Bummed at the so-so statue, we weren’t sure anything could revive our spirits. But then, as seems to happen now and again in life, the universe conspired to make our day suddenly awesome. By total chance, we were cruisin’ through Lisbon Falls, Maine, when we saw signs for the Moxie museum. Now I’ve always known that Brian and I practically ooze moxie, I mean, how else could we maintain such a high level of excellence in all that we do? But I must admit, neither of us had any idea what this “Moxie” was, so naturally we pulled over. To what looked like an abandoned convenience store. We went right in. Inside, we were greeted by shelves of hundreds of old glass Coke bottles from all around the world. We had our first clue, but the purpose of this place still eluded us. We wandered around a bit more. Suddenly, he emerged: It was the sage of sodas, the king of carbonation, the Master of the Moxie.
Brian: I think his name was Bill?
Nick: I’m going to stick with Master of Moxie. He was squat and plump with white hair and eyes that seemed as though they might contain all the knowledge of ancient civilizations. He began to tell us about Moxie, its attributes-
Brian: The only beverage to have two distinct flavors
Nick: Its origins
Brian: Invented in 1884 as a nerve tonic
Nick: and even about the giant Moxie festival the town hosts every year.
Brian: Apparently they pull in over thirty thousand people.
Nick: But when I asked him for a can of the stuff-
Brian: After all, we’d never even heard of it
Nick: -the man was baffled. I literally drank the last can in the place after dusting cobwebs off. Brian picked up a couple plastic bottles which were themselves but a few survivors in a cooler that loomed eerily and emptily in the back of the store.
Brian: When you come to the Moxie headquarters, you come for the history. You do not come for the Moxie.
Nick: I would describe the taste but then I would fail. The closest thing we can compare it to is Jaegermeister which, as it turns out, is not our favorite. It also tastes like old person candy.
Brian: You know those nasty pastel-colored spirals that taste like black licorice gone bad and have the consistency of chalk? You know, your grandma always had a bowl of them on the coffee table and every couple years you eat one because you’ve forgotten how bad they actually taste? Moxie tastes like the essence of old, if oldness could be distilled into a liquid.
Nick: Well said. OK, so I know we talked A LOT about the Moxie but it really left an impression on us and our digestive systems, so it needed to be in here. The next stop was the world’s largest frying pan. Turned out to be the world’s largest disappointment as the pan was residing in the world’s largest kitchen cupboard for storage when we arrived in the town where it was usually on display. After the pan, things got ugly. Fast. After the pan, we entered a town called Skowhegan. Little did we know the horrors that awaited us…
Brian: I’ll admit it was my idea. Skowhegan also boasted a world’s largest Indian statue, and I thought it would be fun to compare Skowhegan’s Indian to the one we had seen earlier that day. I imagine our blog as a beacon of righteousness and truth in the sea of smut known as the Intermet, so answering the question of whose Indian is bigger would be a natural extension of our purpose. We never should have entered that forsaken town. Skowhegan is clearly the Indian word for “Deception”.
Nick: Let me explain. A post on some travel website said that the stature was a certain intersection in this town. We get there, see nothing. No problem. We had the same problem in Wakaponeta, and we all know how that turned out.
Brian: If we don’t know, we should definently go back and read the first post or two.
Nick: Nevertheless, you’d hope that the world’s tallest Indian statue would be fairly easy to find right? False. After wandering around the gas station parking lot for at least ten minutes, we finally found it behind a tree. Yeah. It was lame. At this point, it’s getting late, we’ve been on the road for hours, and the last couple attractions have been huge flops. It was under these conditions that we were then met with a list, a long list, of obstacles and annoyances that seemed more abundant than the NASCAR sticker covered pick up trucks that seemed to swarm in Skowhegan like locusts. Brian will take you through it:
Brian:
1: No Moxie. Surprised? Yeah, it was awful, but you can’t just have one.
2: Charriers. The “classy” steak house in town. Somebody renovated a Sizzler in the 70’s and then left it to be managed by a team of meth heads. We didn’t need more than a drive-by to know that we hated it.
3: Worst Indian Ever:
a: They know it’s bad so they hide it behind their gas station.
b: It was built by a Frenchman named “L’anglais” which means “The Englishman”. Get it together.
c: They claimed that the Indian’s were a totally peaceful people. We love Indian’s, but we know that they had wars. Stop being deceptive.
d: Portrayed Indians negatively: The Indian statue was super ugly and disproportioned.
4: Expensive camping that sucks:
a: I don’t want to play mini-golf at my campsite.
b: I don’t want to get yelled at for driving 13mph in a 5mph zone. The car doesn’t even idle that slowly.
5: Stupid name. Skowhegan? How do you even say that? Ugh.
6: The residents love Enduring Freedom. Don’t you usually endure bad things like pain or ridicule? The residents of this town apparently think freedom is something they have to “put up with”.
7: They have they #1 Pizza Hut in the nation. Another world record holder, but Pizza Hut blows therefore so do the Skowhogs that eat there.
8: Disappearing Wal-Marts. I swear it was there when we drove by 5 minutes ago.
9: Misleading bathrooms. Why would the gas station attendant say they were outside when they weren’t?
10: They have a Lake George. The last Lake George we went to (in New York) had pirate mini golf everywhere and sucked. I can’t imagine why this one would be better.
11: Awful music. We didn’t hear a single song we recognized on the radio the whole time we were there. Give me Miley or give me death. (Except 16 will get you 20 so not actually, but kind of.)
12: No beautiful people. Maybe not anyone’s fault, per se, but it’s fuel on the fire when you are pissed off, tired, hungry, and you are being forced to see hideous people.
13: The classic rock station is called The River. That’s stupid… rivers beats rock through perseverance every time. Pick a name that is more metal. Blood Omen?
14: Skowhegan is where skunks go to die. Smelliest town in America.
15: We cleaned our windshield at the gas station and it got dirtier. I literally think there were more bug guts on it than before.
Nick: You can blame it on the residual Moxie coursing through our veins, but we hated everything about this town and its lying ways. If you have the chance, and you won’t because it’s so far away from anything anybody could conceivably ever want to do, give this desolate wasteland a big pass.
Brian: We finally were fed up and to let off some steam drove all the way to Acadia National Park, which, had we been there during the daytime, I’m sure would have been beautiful. We are masters of pitching that tent in the dark. End day 8. Song of the day? You guessed it: Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere and the Raiders. So inappropriate. B & N out. Not Barnes and Noble.
Nick: Skowhegan.
Brian: Gesundheit. –things that this country has to offer, and it is our great pleasure to share them with you in this format. We left Ryan’s quaint pad in Exeter, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle America’s finest attractions, and headed north into Maine for two reasons. One, it was the only convenient time to check that state off our list, and two, Maine hosts a variety of world record holding inanimate objects.
Nick: Or so they claim…
Brian: I too am skeptical friend. But let’s not jump the world’s largest gun. We ambitiously created a list of 8-10 towns and set out for the first one at around 8am, within which resided the world’s largest chocolate animal carving. Naturally, it was a moose. And I’d have to say I was pretty impressed. The candy shop itself was quite remarkable, in that it was like stepping into a time machine to the 50’s, or so the cashier’s haircuts would lead you to believe. One of them started questioning us about our trip, and she was surprised when we revealed to her that there were several record setting attractions in her state. Despite her surprise, she had no problem giving us directions to the world’s largest boot, and the world’s most visited lighthouse. We left confused, but ultimately satisfied by the experience.
Nick: After the moose, we hit up a giant Indian statue a couple towns over. The Indian was not special. He was large, sure, but it would not be accurate to say he towered oppressively over the landscape. And I think that’s really what Monday was supposed to be about, wouldn’t you say?
Brian: Yup.
Nick: Next on the list was the world’s largest rotating globe. The globe gets respect, as it was pretty gigantinormous, and it did rotate majestically. There was also a map store that specialized in atlases, but as we’ve grown rather fond of L.U.C.Y.-
Brian: That’s our car’s GPS system
Nick: We didn’t want to make her jealous with an additional navigational tool.
Brian: Once she gave us wrong directions for two days after we used the iPhone to find the nearest Arby’s.
Nick: After the globe, we got a little turned around then eventually made our way to the world’s largest big boy sculpture? Something like that? It was distinctly Sovietesque, and as such, was terrifying. And also not really that big at all. Bummed at the so-so statue, we weren’t sure anything could revive our spirits. But then, as seems to happen now and again in life, the universe conspired to make our day suddenly awesome. By total chance, we were cruisin’ through Lisbon Falls, Maine, when we saw signs for the Moxie museum. Now I’ve always known that Brian and I practically ooze moxie, I mean, how else could we maintain such a high level of excellence in all that we do? But I must admit, neither of us had any idea what this “Moxie” was, so naturally we pulled over. To what looked like an abandoned convenience store. We went right in. Inside, we were greeted by shelves of hundreds of old glass Coke bottles from all around the world. We had our first clue, but the purpose of this place still eluded us. We wandered around a bit more. Suddenly, he emerged: It was the sage of sodas, the king of carbonation, the Master of the Moxie.
Brian: I think his name was Bill?
Nick: I’m going to stick with Master of Moxie. He was squat and plump with white hair and eyes that seemed as though they might contain all the knowledge of ancient civilizations. He began to tell us about Moxie, its attributes-
Brian: The only beverage to have two distinct flavors
Nick: Its origins
Brian: Invented in 1884 as a nerve tonic
Nick: and even about the giant Moxie festival the town hosts every year.
Brian: Apparently they pull in over thirty thousand people.
Nick: But when I asked him for a can of the stuff-
Brian: After all, we’d never even heard of it
Nick: -the man was baffled. I literally drank the last can in the place after dusting cobwebs off. Brian picked up a couple plastic bottles which were themselves but a few survivors in a cooler that loomed eerily and emptily in the back of the store.
Brian: When you come to the Moxie headquarters, you come for the history. You do not come for the Moxie.
Nick: I would describe the taste but then I would fail. The closest thing we can compare it to is Jaegermeister which, as it turns out, is not our favorite. It also tastes like old person candy.
Brian: You know those nasty pastel-colored spirals that taste like black licorice gone bad and have the consistency of chalk? You know, your grandma always had a bowl of them on the coffee table and every couple years you eat one because you’ve forgotten how bad they actually taste? Moxie tastes like the essence of old, if oldness could be distilled into a liquid.
Nick: Well said. OK, so I know we talked A LOT about the Moxie but it really left an impression on us and our digestive systems, so it needed to be in here. The next stop was the world’s largest frying pan. Turned out to be the world’s largest disappointment as the pan was residing in the world’s largest kitchen cupboard for storage when we arrived in the town where it was usually on display. After the pan, things got ugly. Fast. After the pan, we entered a town called Skowhegan. Little did we know the horrors that awaited us…
Brian: I’ll admit it was my idea. Skowhegan also boasted a world’s largest Indian statue, and I thought it would be fun to compare Skowhegan’s Indian to the one we had seen earlier that day. I imagine our blog as a beacon of righteousness and truth in the sea of smut known as the Intermet, so answering the question of whose Indian is bigger would be a natural extension of our purpose. We never should have entered that forsaken town. Skowhegan is clearly the Indian word for “Deception”.
Nick: Let me explain. A post on some travel website said that the stature was a certain intersection in this town. We get there, see nothing. No problem. We had the same problem in Wakaponeta, and we all know how that turned out.
Brian: If we don’t know, we should definently go back and read the first post or two.
Nick: Nevertheless, you’d hope that the world’s tallest Indian statue would be fairly easy to find right? False. After wandering around the gas station parking lot for at least ten minutes, we finally found it behind a tree. Yeah. It was lame. At this point, it’s getting late, we’ve been on the road for hours, and the last couple attractions have been huge flops. It was under these conditions that we were then met with a list, a long list, of obstacles and annoyances that seemed more abundant than the NASCAR sticker covered pick up trucks that seemed to swarm in Skowhegan like locusts. Brian will take you through it:
Brian:
1: No Moxie. Surprised? Yeah, it was awful, but you can’t just have one.
2: Charriers. The “classy” steak house in town. Somebody renovated a Sizzler in the 70’s and then left it to be managed by a team of meth heads. We didn’t need more than a drive-by to know that we hated it.
3: Worst Indian Ever:
a: They know it’s bad so they hide it behind their gas station.
b: It was built by a Frenchman named “L’anglais” which means “The Englishman”. Get it together.
c: They claimed that the Indian’s were a totally peaceful people. We love Indian’s, but we know that they had wars. Stop being deceptive.
d: Portrayed Indians negatively: The Indian statue was super ugly and disproportioned.
4: Expensive camping that sucks:
a: I don’t want to play mini-golf at my campsite.
b: I don’t want to get yelled at for driving 13mph in a 5mph zone. The car doesn’t even idle that slowly.
5: Stupid name. Skowhegan? How do you even say that? Ugh.
6: The residents love Enduring Freedom. Don’t you usually endure bad things like pain or ridicule? The residents of this town apparently think freedom is something they have to “put up with”.
7: They have they #1 Pizza Hut in the nation. Another world record holder, but Pizza Hut blows therefore so do the Skowhogs that eat there.
8: Disappearing Wal-Marts. I swear it was there when we drove by 5 minutes ago.
9: Misleading bathrooms. Why would the gas station attendant say they were outside when they weren’t?
10: They have a Lake George. The last Lake George we went to (in New York) had pirate mini golf everywhere and sucked. I can’t imagine why this one would be better.
11: Awful music. We didn’t hear a single song we recognized on the radio the whole time we were there. Give me Miley or give me death. (Except 16 will get you 20 so not actually, but kind of.)
12: No beautiful people. Maybe not anyone’s fault, per se, but it’s fuel on the fire when you are pissed off, tired, hungry, and you are being forced to see hideous people.
13: The classic rock station is called The River. That’s stupid… rivers beats rock through perseverance every time. Pick a name that is more metal. Blood Omen?
14: Skowhegan is where skunks go to die. Smelliest town in America.
15: We cleaned our windshield at the gas station and it got dirtier. I literally think there were more bug guts on it than before.
Nick: You can blame it on the residual Moxie coursing through our veins, but we hated everything about this town and its lying ways. If you have the chance, and you won’t because it’s so far away from anything anybody could conceivably ever want to do, give this desolate wasteland a big pass.
Brian: We finally were fed up and to let off some steam drove all the way to Acadia National Park, which, had we been there during the daytime, I’m sure would have been beautiful. We are masters of pitching that tent in the dark. End day 8. Song of the day? You guessed it: Cherokee Nation by Paul Revere and the Raiders. So inappropriate. B & N out. Not Barnes and Noble.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Laconia, NH through Exeter, NH
Nick: So I don’t know about Brian, but I woke up laying on a completely deflated air mattress which also stuck to my bare arms and face with considerable tenacity. It wasn’t a pleasant way to start the day. After breakfast, Ryan, his girlfriend Kristen, Brian and I headed off to Ryan’s apartment to watch the Patriot’s football game. It was by far the most normal thing I’ve done or seen in a week, and it felt good to have a slow day. I don’t think I have much else to report. You Brian?
Brian: You basically covered it. I think if we didn’t have a relaxing day like this every once in a while, it wouldn’t allow us to appreciate the crazy crap in Anywhere, USA. The highlight of my day was when I curled up in a sun beam on Ryan’s living room floor and took a nap. Now I know why my cat does it.
Nick: And so readers, we leave you with our song of the day: “Baby Got Back” sung in the style of Frank Sinatra. If you’re bored sometime, sing a popular hip-hop song like a lounge singer. It’s weird. Question: I have four corners, but I always go in the top right one. What am I? (Hint: I can travel all around the world.)
Brian: You basically covered it. I think if we didn’t have a relaxing day like this every once in a while, it wouldn’t allow us to appreciate the crazy crap in Anywhere, USA. The highlight of my day was when I curled up in a sun beam on Ryan’s living room floor and took a nap. Now I know why my cat does it.
Nick: And so readers, we leave you with our song of the day: “Baby Got Back” sung in the style of Frank Sinatra. If you’re bored sometime, sing a popular hip-hop song like a lounge singer. It’s weird. Question: I have four corners, but I always go in the top right one. What am I? (Hint: I can travel all around the world.)
Gilfortd State Park, VT through Laconia, NH
Brian: Once upon a time there were two friends named Nick and Brian who met a young gent by the name of Ryan Audley. Several late night card games and Jagermeister shots later, the trio had formed a fast bond of friendship, impenetrable to even the sharpest sword or wit. When Nick and Brian received an invitation to the 21st birthday of Ryan’s sister Kelly (and when they heard there was going to be an open bar) their RSVP was swift and sure. Their reunion would have been an occasion of merriment regardless, but with this news a raucous and memorable evening was sure to ensue.
Nick: It occurs to me at this point that you readers may be developing the opinion that my companion and myself are, for lack of a more delicate expression, raging alcoholics. This could not be further from the truth. We’ve simply acquired an appreciation for the interesting conversations and situations that seem to arise after a few rounds of something cold, delicious, and triple-filtered. Jimmy Buffet fans know what I’m talking about. Responsibility people, that’s the key.
Brian: And moderation. By that I don’t mean drink moderately, just make sure that your drinking is moderated by another person. So last night, Nick and I were behind the scenes at an Audley event. Good food and free booze can only take you so far, but the Audleys and their friends are a dynamic and welcoming bunch with the ability to bust some serious dance moves.
Nick: Unfortunately, their true dance potential was hindered by someone I feel comfortable calling a terrible DJ.
Brian: Wasn’t his name DJ Ass Hat? That should have tipped us off right away.
Nick: No, that was the name you gave him. SO check this out: of course we request Miley right off the bat, but the guy wasn’t having it. O.K., I can see the reasoning. But as the night wore on, we were dragged through a bizarre musical landscape consisting of a handful of twangy country numbers, the occasional classic rock ballad, and a number of pop songs that I hadn’t heard since my last Middle School dance.
Brian: Also reminiscent of Middle School: he ended with a pair of slow songs from a couple CD’s he probably picked up in the free box of a garage sale back in 1995. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see DJ Killjoy spacing people out with a yardstick. Let me get back to a part of the party worth mentioning: the delicious chow. Beef and chicken skewers to start, followed by penne in a chicken broccoli Alfredo sauce, and bacon-wrapped scallops the size of my fist for dessert. And for second dessert, a chocolate cake with Ganache frosting in the shape of a designer handbag. Ooh fancy! Special mention for the Washington Apple shot(s?) I had that night as well: they were delicious and did the WA proud.
Nick: By delicious, Brian of course means that they were just awful. I mean, I know Brian thinks he enjoyed them, so he’s not being insincere. He’s just being wrong.
Brian: Whatever. I’m not done yet: for breakfast we had crumble cake muffins, two almond cakes, and about a pig’s worth of maple glazed bacon, which Ryan’s father Sam grilled to crispy perfection. Poll of the day (yeah, we have a poll, what of it?) Which is best: Crispy bacon, flaccid bacon, Canadian bacon, or the pepper bacon they put on those super good Arby’s sandwiches sometimes? Personally, I prefer the crispy stuff.
Nick: I do too. Also, a “pig” is now an official unit of measure for volume. Its actual size is more than a gallon, but somewhat less than a keg. Now you know. Song of the day? Probably “Black Magic Woman.” In reference to a woman. From the party. You know who you are. Now we hope you'll enjoy the few pictures we have from the day:
Da Fridge
Brian's Dream Car
Nick: It occurs to me at this point that you readers may be developing the opinion that my companion and myself are, for lack of a more delicate expression, raging alcoholics. This could not be further from the truth. We’ve simply acquired an appreciation for the interesting conversations and situations that seem to arise after a few rounds of something cold, delicious, and triple-filtered. Jimmy Buffet fans know what I’m talking about. Responsibility people, that’s the key.
Brian: And moderation. By that I don’t mean drink moderately, just make sure that your drinking is moderated by another person. So last night, Nick and I were behind the scenes at an Audley event. Good food and free booze can only take you so far, but the Audleys and their friends are a dynamic and welcoming bunch with the ability to bust some serious dance moves.
Nick: Unfortunately, their true dance potential was hindered by someone I feel comfortable calling a terrible DJ.
Brian: Wasn’t his name DJ Ass Hat? That should have tipped us off right away.
Nick: No, that was the name you gave him. SO check this out: of course we request Miley right off the bat, but the guy wasn’t having it. O.K., I can see the reasoning. But as the night wore on, we were dragged through a bizarre musical landscape consisting of a handful of twangy country numbers, the occasional classic rock ballad, and a number of pop songs that I hadn’t heard since my last Middle School dance.
Brian: Also reminiscent of Middle School: he ended with a pair of slow songs from a couple CD’s he probably picked up in the free box of a garage sale back in 1995. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see DJ Killjoy spacing people out with a yardstick. Let me get back to a part of the party worth mentioning: the delicious chow. Beef and chicken skewers to start, followed by penne in a chicken broccoli Alfredo sauce, and bacon-wrapped scallops the size of my fist for dessert. And for second dessert, a chocolate cake with Ganache frosting in the shape of a designer handbag. Ooh fancy! Special mention for the Washington Apple shot(s?) I had that night as well: they were delicious and did the WA proud.
Nick: By delicious, Brian of course means that they were just awful. I mean, I know Brian thinks he enjoyed them, so he’s not being insincere. He’s just being wrong.
Brian: Whatever. I’m not done yet: for breakfast we had crumble cake muffins, two almond cakes, and about a pig’s worth of maple glazed bacon, which Ryan’s father Sam grilled to crispy perfection. Poll of the day (yeah, we have a poll, what of it?) Which is best: Crispy bacon, flaccid bacon, Canadian bacon, or the pepper bacon they put on those super good Arby’s sandwiches sometimes? Personally, I prefer the crispy stuff.
Nick: I do too. Also, a “pig” is now an official unit of measure for volume. Its actual size is more than a gallon, but somewhat less than a keg. Now you know. Song of the day? Probably “Black Magic Woman.” In reference to a woman. From the party. You know who you are. Now we hope you'll enjoy the few pictures we have from the day:
Da Fridge
Brian's Dream Car
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Scranton, PA through Gifford State Park, VT
Brian: Even though ninja camping was awesome, (thanks again deer/spirit guide) the sleep was restive (which means we didn’t sleep well, oddly), and hopefully it’s not something we have to do more than once a week. Thankfully our only goal for the next day was to make it to the Adirondack Park Preserve by the early afternoon, and whittle away the remaining hours of the day fireside with beer, rum, and cupcakes. For energy, we stopped at the Rudest Arby’s in America, where I attempted to order before my cashier was ready, and was promptly put in my place with a snappy retort. Allow me to issue the second personal apology of the last couple days to my overweight cashier: I know how early you have to get up because Arby’s opens at 10 am (we were there at 10:03 by the way), but reconsider the sign on the door that says “All meals come with a complimentary smile.” I would’ve asked for mine but I didn’t want a sarcastic one, and the sign didn’t technically specify. All’s well that end’s well, though, because had we not pulled off the freeway for junk food, we wouldn’t have seen the awesome series of hand painted billboards for the Secret Caverns.
Nick: A note about the billboards: There were normal signs for an apparently popular destination called “Howe’s Cave.” The psychadelic signs we saw were advertising an entirely different, and apparently very competitive, hole in the ground. Just goes to show, you’ve got to take your advertising seriously. We wouldn’t have given Howe’s Cave the time of day after passing their hum-drum signage. If they won’t make the effort, neither will we. Hey are a few of the numerous samplings found along the side of the road:
Brian: More photos of the Secret Cavern signs are on Facebook.
Nick: Definitely worth checking out.
Brian: The guide for the tour was clearly a stoner and a major Mitch Hedburg fan, and he wittily led us 115 ft underground to the bottom of a 100 ft waterfall, which was cool despite the fact that I had a secret paranoia that I would accidentally remove the keystone of the cave and be buried underneath thousands of tons of solid rock. Deep breaths, Brian, deep breaths.
Nick: After the caves, we made our way to the State park around Lake George where it seemed camp grounds would be in great abundance.
Brian: A word of advice: unless you are a fat New Yorker that loves plastic pirate ships and putt putt golf, never go to Lake George, NY. I guess “Park Preserve” means different things in different states. It was the most kitschy, touristy, man-made place we had ever been, and it only took an hour of driving around looking for a campsite to realize that we would be much more fulfilled by camping in Vermont.
Nick: We should have known immediately when we passed no less than THREE pirate ship themed mini-golf attractions in as many miles. Do all New Yorkers love knocking rainbow golf balls around fiberglass mermaids this much? That can be your riddle of the day readers. As of yet, we have no answer.
Brian: We left New York at 5pm and by 6 our tent was pitched in a beautiful state park just across the border. So began Pee-In-The-Woodsfest 2009. Fire + beer + cupcakes + rum + best friends = good times; enough said.
Nick: That’s cute. But it really was quite a nice evening.
Brian: We woke up feeling surprisingly great, especially after we roasted a couple of breakfast hotdogs over the remainder of our firewood. Hit the road at 10 and spent the midday finishing up a new blog post at a local coffee shop on the Vermont/New Hampshire border. Life is good.
Nick: As are oatmeal cookies. This is a fact. Song of the day: A twist today, actually. Today we reveal that, after much deliberation-
Brian: Actually, there was very little deliberation.
Nick: Haha, true. When it’s right, it’s right. What is there to talk about?
Brian: The song of the trip, nay, the anthem of the journey, is now and forever shall be “Party in the U.S.A” by the inappropriately attractive Miley Cyrus.
Nick: She’s 18 in a couple years. That’s not too bad, right?
Brian: Not bad at all my friend, and those next couple years can’t go by fast enough. In the meantime, just keep being Miley; Brian and Nick out.
Nick: A note about the billboards: There were normal signs for an apparently popular destination called “Howe’s Cave.” The psychadelic signs we saw were advertising an entirely different, and apparently very competitive, hole in the ground. Just goes to show, you’ve got to take your advertising seriously. We wouldn’t have given Howe’s Cave the time of day after passing their hum-drum signage. If they won’t make the effort, neither will we. Hey are a few of the numerous samplings found along the side of the road:
Brian: More photos of the Secret Cavern signs are on Facebook.
Nick: Definitely worth checking out.
Brian: The guide for the tour was clearly a stoner and a major Mitch Hedburg fan, and he wittily led us 115 ft underground to the bottom of a 100 ft waterfall, which was cool despite the fact that I had a secret paranoia that I would accidentally remove the keystone of the cave and be buried underneath thousands of tons of solid rock. Deep breaths, Brian, deep breaths.
Nick: After the caves, we made our way to the State park around Lake George where it seemed camp grounds would be in great abundance.
Brian: A word of advice: unless you are a fat New Yorker that loves plastic pirate ships and putt putt golf, never go to Lake George, NY. I guess “Park Preserve” means different things in different states. It was the most kitschy, touristy, man-made place we had ever been, and it only took an hour of driving around looking for a campsite to realize that we would be much more fulfilled by camping in Vermont.
Nick: We should have known immediately when we passed no less than THREE pirate ship themed mini-golf attractions in as many miles. Do all New Yorkers love knocking rainbow golf balls around fiberglass mermaids this much? That can be your riddle of the day readers. As of yet, we have no answer.
Brian: We left New York at 5pm and by 6 our tent was pitched in a beautiful state park just across the border. So began Pee-In-The-Woodsfest 2009. Fire + beer + cupcakes + rum + best friends = good times; enough said.
Nick: That’s cute. But it really was quite a nice evening.
Brian: We woke up feeling surprisingly great, especially after we roasted a couple of breakfast hotdogs over the remainder of our firewood. Hit the road at 10 and spent the midday finishing up a new blog post at a local coffee shop on the Vermont/New Hampshire border. Life is good.
Nick: As are oatmeal cookies. This is a fact. Song of the day: A twist today, actually. Today we reveal that, after much deliberation-
Brian: Actually, there was very little deliberation.
Nick: Haha, true. When it’s right, it’s right. What is there to talk about?
Brian: The song of the trip, nay, the anthem of the journey, is now and forever shall be “Party in the U.S.A” by the inappropriately attractive Miley Cyrus.
Nick: She’s 18 in a couple years. That’s not too bad, right?
Brian: Not bad at all my friend, and those next couple years can’t go by fast enough. In the meantime, just keep being Miley; Brian and Nick out.
Sewickely, Pa through Scranton, PA
Nick: Morning readers. Today’s post comes to you from a small coffee shop in rural Vermont. We’d like to take this opportunity to personally apologize for the lack of posts in the last couple days, as we know many of you have been hungrily awaiting an update of our journey. It is not for lack of writing on our part, but for a lack of Intermet in the deep woods.
Brian: Aside. No, that’s not a typo. Nick and I were sharing with each other the hilariously crappy local commercials we’ve grown up, and stumbled upon an old Vern Fonk gem. According to him, “Internet” is actually pronounced “Intermet”. It’s on YouTube. End Aside.
Nick: You see, the last few days have been spent mostly in the wilderness, fending off wild animals and starting fires without the wonderment of modern inventions like Duraflame logs. (Thus far, we have been fabulously successful on both counts.) Allow me to fill you in:
On Thursday morning, Amy sent us on our way with delicious cupcakes (thanks again!) and we left the Pittsburgh area towards Scranton, PA. The address we plugged into the GPS was that of Poor Richard’s Pub. That’s right. Along the way, we stopped to check out the Niagara Falls. The American Niagara falls, mind you. Brian and I decided that if there was part of the falls that couldn’t bee seen from the U.S. side, it wasn’t worth seeing. Sorry Canada, no dice.
Brian: Nice try with your massive waterfront Ferris-wheel though. Lesser men would have fallen for such blatant pandering. Here are a couple pics from the winning side:
(A photo of a man Japanese man taking a photo. If you weren't sure, that's called zen. Maybe not.)
Nick: The giant waterfall was cool I guess, but I’ll probably remember the best fish sandwich ever that we had nearby more than anything else from that day. I think the restaurant was called “The Beach House.” Tasty.
Brian: I took the steering wheel for the five hour drive from Niagara to S(Compton)ranton. As our friends know, Nick and I can’t spend five hours together without inventing a new game, and “Seabiscuit” as we coined it is a prime example of our creativity. Step 1: Pull up along the left side of a car on the highway. Step 2: Racially, sexually, and haircut-ly profile the driver. Step 3: Have the passenger stare directly at the other driver until he or she makes eye contact with the driver. Step 4: Pull away laughing hysterically.
Nick: AKA, smoke them a la Paul Walker. Minus the laughter. And the general douchiness. And minus the hair. Actually, forget Paul Walker. We pull away a la Vin Diesel. Yes.
Brian: We haven’t collected enough data to make a statistically sound conclusion, but honorable mentions to the guy who broke the sound barrier to get away from us, the guy who was already looking at us when we pulled up-
Nick: That was way creepy.
Brian: -and the girl texting on her Blackberry who we matched for miles without a glance. We are taking notes diligently so rest assured we will have conclusions in about a week.
Nick: We eventually made it to Scranton, though when we “arrived” there was no sign what-so-ever for anything that might be a pub. We inquired of a kindly gentleman smoking behind a nearby bowling alley where it might be, and he directed us into the bowling alley itself. To our surprise, there was absolutely no indication that the place was frequently mentioned in the hit show “The Office.” That was fine with us though. We ordered some chow and a couple beers, turned on the back T.V. to NBC, and watched our show as weird locals scampered around behind us.
Brian: Yeah, for some reason a dude literally crawled into the bathroom and we never saw him leave. This trip is full of mysteries.
Nick: We left the bar after dusk, and made our way to a nearby state park. Under cover of darkness, we slipped in, pitched our tent with incredible dexterity and purpose, then fell asleep. With Ninja like stealth, aided by the Civic Hybrid (which everyone knows is perfectly silent under 10mph as its advanced engine actually absorbs sounds which are converted to fuel,) we quit the park in the most intense fog ever. A deer guided us through, though, so we made it out in one piece.
Song of the day: “The Omen” by Prodigy. Food of the day: Fried fish sandwich, of course. Question of the day: A man pushes his car, stops in front of a house, and goes broke. How did this happen? I don’t know, I’m asking you, readers.
Brian: Aside. No, that’s not a typo. Nick and I were sharing with each other the hilariously crappy local commercials we’ve grown up, and stumbled upon an old Vern Fonk gem. According to him, “Internet” is actually pronounced “Intermet”. It’s on YouTube. End Aside.
Nick: You see, the last few days have been spent mostly in the wilderness, fending off wild animals and starting fires without the wonderment of modern inventions like Duraflame logs. (Thus far, we have been fabulously successful on both counts.) Allow me to fill you in:
On Thursday morning, Amy sent us on our way with delicious cupcakes (thanks again!) and we left the Pittsburgh area towards Scranton, PA. The address we plugged into the GPS was that of Poor Richard’s Pub. That’s right. Along the way, we stopped to check out the Niagara Falls. The American Niagara falls, mind you. Brian and I decided that if there was part of the falls that couldn’t bee seen from the U.S. side, it wasn’t worth seeing. Sorry Canada, no dice.
Brian: Nice try with your massive waterfront Ferris-wheel though. Lesser men would have fallen for such blatant pandering. Here are a couple pics from the winning side:
(A photo of a man Japanese man taking a photo. If you weren't sure, that's called zen. Maybe not.)
Nick: The giant waterfall was cool I guess, but I’ll probably remember the best fish sandwich ever that we had nearby more than anything else from that day. I think the restaurant was called “The Beach House.” Tasty.
Brian: I took the steering wheel for the five hour drive from Niagara to S(Compton)ranton. As our friends know, Nick and I can’t spend five hours together without inventing a new game, and “Seabiscuit” as we coined it is a prime example of our creativity. Step 1: Pull up along the left side of a car on the highway. Step 2: Racially, sexually, and haircut-ly profile the driver. Step 3: Have the passenger stare directly at the other driver until he or she makes eye contact with the driver. Step 4: Pull away laughing hysterically.
Nick: AKA, smoke them a la Paul Walker. Minus the laughter. And the general douchiness. And minus the hair. Actually, forget Paul Walker. We pull away a la Vin Diesel. Yes.
Brian: We haven’t collected enough data to make a statistically sound conclusion, but honorable mentions to the guy who broke the sound barrier to get away from us, the guy who was already looking at us when we pulled up-
Nick: That was way creepy.
Brian: -and the girl texting on her Blackberry who we matched for miles without a glance. We are taking notes diligently so rest assured we will have conclusions in about a week.
Nick: We eventually made it to Scranton, though when we “arrived” there was no sign what-so-ever for anything that might be a pub. We inquired of a kindly gentleman smoking behind a nearby bowling alley where it might be, and he directed us into the bowling alley itself. To our surprise, there was absolutely no indication that the place was frequently mentioned in the hit show “The Office.” That was fine with us though. We ordered some chow and a couple beers, turned on the back T.V. to NBC, and watched our show as weird locals scampered around behind us.
Brian: Yeah, for some reason a dude literally crawled into the bathroom and we never saw him leave. This trip is full of mysteries.
Nick: We left the bar after dusk, and made our way to a nearby state park. Under cover of darkness, we slipped in, pitched our tent with incredible dexterity and purpose, then fell asleep. With Ninja like stealth, aided by the Civic Hybrid (which everyone knows is perfectly silent under 10mph as its advanced engine actually absorbs sounds which are converted to fuel,) we quit the park in the most intense fog ever. A deer guided us through, though, so we made it out in one piece.
Song of the day: “The Omen” by Prodigy. Food of the day: Fried fish sandwich, of course. Question of the day: A man pushes his car, stops in front of a house, and goes broke. How did this happen? I don’t know, I’m asking you, readers.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Edgewood, KY through Sewickley, PA
Brian: It is my secret dream that some millionaire-
Nick: Pause. Riddle: A man buys coconuts at three dollars each and sells them for two dollars each. Through this process, he becomes a millionaire. A prize for the first reader to solve this conundrum. Un-pause.
Brian: -with a spirit for adventure decides to live vicariously through us and sponsors us to continue this trip for another several years, on the condition that we continue to write the blog. If you know any rich people, send them the link. Speaking of rich people, you would not believe the house we are staying in this evening.
Nick: If King Arthur, Wily Coyote and Hugh Hefner co-decorated a mansion in Sewickley, PA, and each had a passion for dramatically dangly chandeliers, it would not be unlike this house.
Brian: In due time my friends, in due time. We spent the first of what is sure to be many nights in our borrowed sleeping bags last night, our bellies filled with what may be the most delicious ice cream in the nation. The Oprah literally has pints of this stuff flown to her house. I’m guessing several pints a day.
Nick: I don’t think you should talk about The Oprah that way, man. But I interrupt. Please continue.
Brian: We have to take advantage of these nights when we have a warm bed or couch to sleep on, because with only two days of advance planning it’s likely that many of our nights will be spent in a tent on an access road, or in a reclined car seat. A final special thanks to Bob and Debbie, your acts of hospitality will always be remembered as the first of many. Our first destination was Bellaire, OH. Apparently one of the largest privately owned collections of Legos in the country resides there. Is it possible for something to simultaneously fall short of and exceed ones expectations? The small towns of America are like dull grey stones. When broken apart they reveal their history in the form of precious gems.
Nick: What my colleague is saying, I think, is that if we could just destroy the small towns of this county, (preferably with an earthquake generation machine,) we would certainly be rewarded untold riches. Sarah Palin would agree. I just know it.
Brian: Something like that…
Nick: Anyway, the Lego museum was intense. The building itself used to be an elementary school, which had begun to fall apart after the place was abandoned. In an effort to save the historic location, a local guy filled the entire place with his collection of giant Lego statues and figurines in order to try to draw an income for restoration. Still with me? Good. Now go to my Facebook page and check out some pictures. You should now be lost, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that. For those of you that don’t have the fbook, I will describe the first few objects made of Legos that greeted me as we entered the museum so that you can try to piece together (pun intended) what this place might be like: A carousel with only cows, Darth Vader, a nerdy employee wearing what appeared to be a table cloth, a troll, and a red man reclining in the nude. In other words, it was a normal stop on our trip thus far. Below are but a few images from the stop:
Brian: For those of you who are my facebook friends, add Nick Ison in order to peruse more photos from the museum. He will say yes. Don’t be shy. Yes, the Lego museum was dingy and poorly kept, but let us not forget that this fine establishment operates out of the jurisdiction and sponsorship of the Lego corporation, hereby referred to as “The Man”. The fine tablecloth wearing mistress of, for legal reasons, what must be referred to as the Plastic Brick museum informed us of the difficulty of operating a Lego based business without the sanction of The Man. It would seem that a provision of the Legoland Theme Park California contract stated that “no other permanent Lego based displays shall exist in the United States”. As a result the completion of the Plastic Brick museum was rushed, to say the least, and the circumstances under which it operates are suboptimal. I had no idea Lego Corp were such sharks.
Nick: Damn the Man.
Brian: And so we close by relating our sleeping conditions for the evening. Through the wonder of the electronic national classifieds known as Craigslist we were able to communicate with a fine young lady outside of Pittsburgh, Sewickley to be exact, and make a arrangement for what we thought would be a small square of floor space. It turns out she has the difficult task of house sitting for a multimillionaire, and to top it all off Amy and her friend Fara are making us cupcakes. Oh, and breakfast. We have our own beds to sleep in, and an invitation to return after completing another couple legs of our trip. The tastiness of the cupcakes will determine whether or not we take her up on the second offer.
Nick: Time for a reader poll: which is best? Sprinkles mixed into the icing, or delicately sprinkled on top? Also, for those who care to know, the song of the day was “Freebird.” ALSO! We went to another pre-pay gas station, and this time overpaid by a dollar. So of course, we had to decide whether a dollar is worth getting out of the car and communicating further with the cave-man behind the lotto tickets at the counter, or if we should just drive off. CAN ANYONE HELP US?
Nick: Pause. Riddle: A man buys coconuts at three dollars each and sells them for two dollars each. Through this process, he becomes a millionaire. A prize for the first reader to solve this conundrum. Un-pause.
Brian: -with a spirit for adventure decides to live vicariously through us and sponsors us to continue this trip for another several years, on the condition that we continue to write the blog. If you know any rich people, send them the link. Speaking of rich people, you would not believe the house we are staying in this evening.
Nick: If King Arthur, Wily Coyote and Hugh Hefner co-decorated a mansion in Sewickley, PA, and each had a passion for dramatically dangly chandeliers, it would not be unlike this house.
Brian: In due time my friends, in due time. We spent the first of what is sure to be many nights in our borrowed sleeping bags last night, our bellies filled with what may be the most delicious ice cream in the nation. The Oprah literally has pints of this stuff flown to her house. I’m guessing several pints a day.
Nick: I don’t think you should talk about The Oprah that way, man. But I interrupt. Please continue.
Brian: We have to take advantage of these nights when we have a warm bed or couch to sleep on, because with only two days of advance planning it’s likely that many of our nights will be spent in a tent on an access road, or in a reclined car seat. A final special thanks to Bob and Debbie, your acts of hospitality will always be remembered as the first of many. Our first destination was Bellaire, OH. Apparently one of the largest privately owned collections of Legos in the country resides there. Is it possible for something to simultaneously fall short of and exceed ones expectations? The small towns of America are like dull grey stones. When broken apart they reveal their history in the form of precious gems.
Nick: What my colleague is saying, I think, is that if we could just destroy the small towns of this county, (preferably with an earthquake generation machine,) we would certainly be rewarded untold riches. Sarah Palin would agree. I just know it.
Brian: Something like that…
Nick: Anyway, the Lego museum was intense. The building itself used to be an elementary school, which had begun to fall apart after the place was abandoned. In an effort to save the historic location, a local guy filled the entire place with his collection of giant Lego statues and figurines in order to try to draw an income for restoration. Still with me? Good. Now go to my Facebook page and check out some pictures. You should now be lost, and I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that. For those of you that don’t have the fbook, I will describe the first few objects made of Legos that greeted me as we entered the museum so that you can try to piece together (pun intended) what this place might be like: A carousel with only cows, Darth Vader, a nerdy employee wearing what appeared to be a table cloth, a troll, and a red man reclining in the nude. In other words, it was a normal stop on our trip thus far. Below are but a few images from the stop:
Brian: For those of you who are my facebook friends, add Nick Ison in order to peruse more photos from the museum. He will say yes. Don’t be shy. Yes, the Lego museum was dingy and poorly kept, but let us not forget that this fine establishment operates out of the jurisdiction and sponsorship of the Lego corporation, hereby referred to as “The Man”. The fine tablecloth wearing mistress of, for legal reasons, what must be referred to as the Plastic Brick museum informed us of the difficulty of operating a Lego based business without the sanction of The Man. It would seem that a provision of the Legoland Theme Park California contract stated that “no other permanent Lego based displays shall exist in the United States”. As a result the completion of the Plastic Brick museum was rushed, to say the least, and the circumstances under which it operates are suboptimal. I had no idea Lego Corp were such sharks.
Nick: Damn the Man.
Brian: And so we close by relating our sleeping conditions for the evening. Through the wonder of the electronic national classifieds known as Craigslist we were able to communicate with a fine young lady outside of Pittsburgh, Sewickley to be exact, and make a arrangement for what we thought would be a small square of floor space. It turns out she has the difficult task of house sitting for a multimillionaire, and to top it all off Amy and her friend Fara are making us cupcakes. Oh, and breakfast. We have our own beds to sleep in, and an invitation to return after completing another couple legs of our trip. The tastiness of the cupcakes will determine whether or not we take her up on the second offer.
Nick: Time for a reader poll: which is best? Sprinkles mixed into the icing, or delicately sprinkled on top? Also, for those who care to know, the song of the day was “Freebird.” ALSO! We went to another pre-pay gas station, and this time overpaid by a dollar. So of course, we had to decide whether a dollar is worth getting out of the car and communicating further with the cave-man behind the lotto tickets at the counter, or if we should just drive off. CAN ANYONE HELP US?
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Wapakoneta, OH through Edgewood, KY
Nick: Evening readers. Today finds us in Edgewood, KY, which is very close to Cincinnati, OH. My Uncle and Aunt live here, and they were good enough to take us in for the evening.
Brian: And thanks to their hospitality, it is from the comfort of their finished basement that we update our blog. It beats the Hell out of a Waffle House.
Nick: Let the reader note: it is the express opinion of Brian and I that Waffle House is actually pretty wonderful. The food is of high value (meaning cheap yet tasty) and the convenience of a 24-hour dining situation cannot be exaggerated on a trip such as this. We mean no disrespect. But beds beat booths. It’s just science, really.
Brian: If you are following our posts, know that we opted for the 2,100 foot mural chronicling the history of Portsmouth, OH as recommended by the Waffle House waiter for our next destination.
Nick: We hope this will become a pattern on this trip. People’s destination suggestions. Not Waffle Houses. But again, we really do like those. I’m going to shut up now. Picture time:
(It's Count Crotchula!)
Brian: It was quite incredible really, considering it was painted over a period of 10 years. Portsmouth is a small town that is clearly brimming with history, and this trip will hopefully be filled with days like this one: Eating sandwiches from a cooler while hanging ones legs over a 30 ft high breakwater on the banks of the Ohio River = freedom.
Nick: Also bits of potential interest for the reader with an appreciation for something of the bizarre: 9 am breakfast came in the form of jalapeño cheese and turkey sandwiches drizzled with delicious chipotle dressing consumed beside a lunar module. Brian ate the first end of the loaf of our bread, which was kind of a jerky thing to do because everyone knows the ends are the best part. I have been promised the ending slice of the loaf. We shall see.
Brian: Everyone hates the end of the bread loaf! When people throw away their bread they leave those slices in the bag. They know when bread is done being consumed because there is just a skinny loaf composed of two ends left in the bag. Children in our society are raised with the crusts cut off their sandwiches. Hating the heel is our nurtured instinct, because the heel is pure crust. I was just being polite.
Nick: And I appreciate that. The reality, however, is that the ends of the loaf are the best for making PBJ’s that don’t leak, they are the most nutrious and frankly the most delicious. You and I understand this. World, get on board. But enough about sandwiches. The drive to Edgewood took us through winding roads past forests that are already beginning to show the first signs of fall. We filled the tank at a pre-pay pump which frankly was confusing to me. How am I supposed to know exactly how much money it’s going to take to fill up the thing? Guess low, and well, I’m that much closer to having to pull over again. Guess high, and a flammable chemical comes cascading out from the overflowing tank and soaks the entire area, creating a dreadful fire hazard which would undoubtedly engulf the entire station in flames sooner or later. Maybe not. If readers have suggestions or tips for handling this precarious situation, please post away. You have avid listeners. Also, in a doubly related note (that’s right) we saw a car completely on fire, inside and out, off the side of the road near Dayton. We also saw the BIGGEST WATER FOUNTAIN EVER. Words cannot describe its enormity, so I will not use them. A giant yardstick could describe its enormity fairly accurately, but I do not have one. I knew we forget something when we left Indy…
Brian: Yeah, we forgot that gravity doesn’t apply to water in Dayton, OH. By the way, the flaming car was creating so much smoke that it created an opaque wall on the highway, thankfully only for the traffic traveling the opposite direction. I was surprised that people were driving through it. Anyway, other than all these awesome events, the drive was pretty uneventful. I met Nick’s relatives Bob and Debbie and they showed us an unbelievable amount of hospitality, for which we will be forever grateful. Our original plan was to meet a friend in Pittsburgh Wednesday night, drive all the way to North Carolina to pick up camping gear for Thursday night, and be in New Hampshire by Saturday afternoon. Since Debbie and Bob were kind enough to lend us sleeping bags, a tent, and other various supplies, we will now be able to attend a The Office season premiere launch party in Scranton, PA and visit Niagara Falls while still making our Saturday appointment in NH. This trip just keeps getting better.
Nick: Tentative plans for tomorrow include visiting the world’s largest collection of Legos then seeing what the city of Pittsburgh has to offer. The intense sensations of jealousy you feel are normal. Do not be alarmed
Brian: And thanks to their hospitality, it is from the comfort of their finished basement that we update our blog. It beats the Hell out of a Waffle House.
Nick: Let the reader note: it is the express opinion of Brian and I that Waffle House is actually pretty wonderful. The food is of high value (meaning cheap yet tasty) and the convenience of a 24-hour dining situation cannot be exaggerated on a trip such as this. We mean no disrespect. But beds beat booths. It’s just science, really.
Brian: If you are following our posts, know that we opted for the 2,100 foot mural chronicling the history of Portsmouth, OH as recommended by the Waffle House waiter for our next destination.
Nick: We hope this will become a pattern on this trip. People’s destination suggestions. Not Waffle Houses. But again, we really do like those. I’m going to shut up now. Picture time:
(It's Count Crotchula!)
Brian: It was quite incredible really, considering it was painted over a period of 10 years. Portsmouth is a small town that is clearly brimming with history, and this trip will hopefully be filled with days like this one: Eating sandwiches from a cooler while hanging ones legs over a 30 ft high breakwater on the banks of the Ohio River = freedom.
Nick: Also bits of potential interest for the reader with an appreciation for something of the bizarre: 9 am breakfast came in the form of jalapeño cheese and turkey sandwiches drizzled with delicious chipotle dressing consumed beside a lunar module. Brian ate the first end of the loaf of our bread, which was kind of a jerky thing to do because everyone knows the ends are the best part. I have been promised the ending slice of the loaf. We shall see.
Brian: Everyone hates the end of the bread loaf! When people throw away their bread they leave those slices in the bag. They know when bread is done being consumed because there is just a skinny loaf composed of two ends left in the bag. Children in our society are raised with the crusts cut off their sandwiches. Hating the heel is our nurtured instinct, because the heel is pure crust. I was just being polite.
Nick: And I appreciate that. The reality, however, is that the ends of the loaf are the best for making PBJ’s that don’t leak, they are the most nutrious and frankly the most delicious. You and I understand this. World, get on board. But enough about sandwiches. The drive to Edgewood took us through winding roads past forests that are already beginning to show the first signs of fall. We filled the tank at a pre-pay pump which frankly was confusing to me. How am I supposed to know exactly how much money it’s going to take to fill up the thing? Guess low, and well, I’m that much closer to having to pull over again. Guess high, and a flammable chemical comes cascading out from the overflowing tank and soaks the entire area, creating a dreadful fire hazard which would undoubtedly engulf the entire station in flames sooner or later. Maybe not. If readers have suggestions or tips for handling this precarious situation, please post away. You have avid listeners. Also, in a doubly related note (that’s right) we saw a car completely on fire, inside and out, off the side of the road near Dayton. We also saw the BIGGEST WATER FOUNTAIN EVER. Words cannot describe its enormity, so I will not use them. A giant yardstick could describe its enormity fairly accurately, but I do not have one. I knew we forget something when we left Indy…
Brian: Yeah, we forgot that gravity doesn’t apply to water in Dayton, OH. By the way, the flaming car was creating so much smoke that it created an opaque wall on the highway, thankfully only for the traffic traveling the opposite direction. I was surprised that people were driving through it. Anyway, other than all these awesome events, the drive was pretty uneventful. I met Nick’s relatives Bob and Debbie and they showed us an unbelievable amount of hospitality, for which we will be forever grateful. Our original plan was to meet a friend in Pittsburgh Wednesday night, drive all the way to North Carolina to pick up camping gear for Thursday night, and be in New Hampshire by Saturday afternoon. Since Debbie and Bob were kind enough to lend us sleeping bags, a tent, and other various supplies, we will now be able to attend a The Office season premiere launch party in Scranton, PA and visit Niagara Falls while still making our Saturday appointment in NH. This trip just keeps getting better.
Nick: Tentative plans for tomorrow include visiting the world’s largest collection of Legos then seeing what the city of Pittsburgh has to offer. The intense sensations of jealousy you feel are normal. Do not be alarmed
Indianapolis, IN through Wapakoneta, OH
The following is the written record of a great road trip, which begins with Brian Pinto and Nick Ison in Carmel, Indiana. Purpose? Simply put, to experience both the new and the old. To find and explore new places, people and things, while visiting and reconnecting with good friends and familiar scenes. Time frame? When the trip is over, we believe we will know. That is all. The path? We go where we want. We go everywhere. All over the country. (Except the South. We’re not going there. Do not push us on this issue.) We post that others might follow along and share in a small part of what will undoubtedly be a defining moment in our lives. Now, without further ado, here are the accounts of the two bold adventurers with a plan to uncover America:
Nick: Brian strolled up after deplaning from an obnoxiously late flight out of Atlanta. He had no checked bag. That was fine.
Brian: That afternoon, we caught up over Mexican food and drinks, which extended late into the evening. The first night was a standard alcohol-filled celebration of the reuniting of old friends. Beer, pizza, and billiards with a gentleman who looked surprisingly like one of Nick’s old roommates. The night ended with a stumble through a pack of bridge rats and spider webs to Steve’s office, where singing and guitar wailing preceded passing out on leather couches.
Nick: Let the reader note: while it is the intended purpose of the authors to express writing which, at all times, maintains the highest degree of journalistic integrity, flawless recollection is often impossible as the previous night’s events are frequently recalled in small fragments surrounded by no small amount of darkness and confusion.
Brian: Scotch is delicious.
Nick: That’s what I just said
Brian: And she said… or he said. Day two required a fair amount of R&R, but a couple beers around 3pm readied us for another evening of debauchery. The main difference being that we decided in advance to sleep in our beds back at Nick’s house: another sunbeam-in-the-face wake up call at 8am was undesirable. I made the mistake of wearing my hiking shoes out to the club (Nick clarifies that this so called “club” barely qualifies as a bar) and was told by the bartender that “I clearly wasn’t from around here and that usually people wear dress shoes when they go out to bars. Oh and lose the hat.” I guess I showed that guy when I spent the evening dancing with an Au Pair from Switzerland. I suppose being from the country that invented the Swiss Army knife allowed her to appreciate the utility of my Merrills.
Nick: Right. The following day, we took care of a few odds and ends in preparation for the journey. The evening consisted of fantastic Cuban cigars, fine scotch-
Brian: Alcohol goes bad if you don’t drink the entire bottle of it in under 30 hours.
Nick: -and outstanding conversation about a wide range of topics, most of which were concerned with questions regarding religion and spirituality, our hopes for the trip, the value of true friendship, and the exciting prospect of an entire country waiting for us to discover, one city at a time. Also, we both decided that given the choice, we would marry Belle, sleep with Pocahontas, and kill Ariel. There is also an honorable mention to Maid Marion who is, undeniably, a fox.
Brian: Totally. When you are riding a bicycle through the streets of Carmel at 1:30 am, these issues are bound to come up.
Nick: This is true. O.K., so we’ve now come to our departure date. Monday, September 14th, 2009. It’s 1 o’clock and the car is loaded, the tank is full, the house is clean. And we have an address: a place described in the book “Weird USA” as the Temple of Tolerance, located in the dead center of Ohio, far from any major cities. Far from anything really. The book’s description was vague, and we were unable to find a website with any more information. All we knew was that the place looked interesting from the few photos available, and we needed something to do in the Buckeye State. Without being sure that the place that we knew nothing about still even existed, we set out to reach the small blue dot on the car’s navigation screen signifying our destination. When the soulless drone of Lucy’s voice informed us that we had arrived-
Brian: Lucy is the name we gave to the robotic voice of the car’s GPS that issues periodic navigational commands.
Nick: And now you know.
Brian: And knowing is half the battle.
Nick: You know, I’ve always thought that military intelligence was at least half the battle, though I guess I don’t know as much about modern warfare as the politicians we’ve elected to handle these important decisions.
Brian: Or G.I. Joe.
Nick: I think we’ve digressed. When we arrived at our intended destination, there was little to clear up any of the mystery surrounding our first official road trip stop. In fact, we didn’t even know if we had made it or not. There was nothing: no sign, no parking lot, no indication whatsoever to suggest that the street we were driving down consisted of anything more than small, suburban houses that lined it. After turning around and driving down Wood Street two more times, we finally spotted a slight oddity in the row of tightly nestled residences that each seemed so normal. One house had strange rocks resting near the sidewalk, and a giant bush that filled the entire space, creating a cave of vegetation extending back from the street. Puzzled, we parked the car and walked towards the house. A woman next door was playing with her child.
“Excuse me, but is this the-“
“Yep”
Clearly, we had arrived someplace interesting. Just what the place was, and who was responsible for it though, were questions that could only be answered by venturing through an old iron gate and into a dense, dark, tunnel of wild, foreboding overgrowth.
Brian: We emerged from the trees in a Narnian fashion to a place reminiscent of Narnia itself. Hundreds of stone altars artistically littered a several acre plot. Closer inspection revealed that the formations were constructed not only of large stones but also of statues and trinkets that reflected thousands of years of world history. The jail cell door of the first man executed by the death penalty in the county. Memorials for each American war. Statuettes from China, Japan, India, and the Native Americas. This was what is perhaps the greatest private collection of world history on the planet. This was all in the backyard of an unassuming residence in Wapakoneta, Ohio.
Nick: Ever heard of it? Thought not.
Brian: But the strangest element of the scenario we found ourselves in, by far, was the incredibly talkative and zany builder and proprietor of this mind-blowing garden. It is a daunting task to describe this man with words. Glass-eye, long white hair pulled back into a pony tail, rocking incessantly as he chattered with us for upwards of three hours about romance, spirituality, war and peace, happiness, success, forgiveness, and sex. His messages were hilarious and insightful, and most eerily of all each story he told was a reflection of a conversation Nick and I have had already since my arrival last Friday. He took us into his home, and our minds were doubly blown. If there were hundreds of altars in his yard, there were thousands of knick-knacks in his 70’s inspired living room and frankly all throughout his house. The Virgin Mary holding hand grenades. Hundreds of coins strung along his ceiling carried by soldiers in wars. Nazi daggers and Klan hoods. These lists are getting monotonous, but I can honestly say that I spent five hours on his property and saw about 1% of what he has to offer. The experience was simply unreal.
Nick: I agree. I suspect today’s experience will be one of the hardest things on this trip to describe. I feel like there were so many parts of not only what this trip is supposed to be about, but also where I feel I am in my life embodied by this visit that my descriptions can only be made in fragments: Jim spoke of the transformation of the lives of troubled local teens that would come hang out in his yard. As an artist myself, I’m keenly interested in the relationship between transformed space (this incredible sculpture garden) and transformed lives; kids that are unused to kind words and warm hearts are exposed to and changed by Jim as he waits patiently on his swinging bench, ready and eager to talk to anyone interested in listening.
He talked about the importance of recording one’s thoughts and ideas in journals and books, and as a beginning writer myself, it couldn’t have been better to hear (Jim writes ten poems every morning, and has for years apparently). Finally, I took away from this visit a bold command from the place itself that declared clearly: Go! The world is full of mysteries and treasures to discover, interesting people to meet, personal growth and insight to achieve. What a better way to begin a journey such as this? Here are but a few or the many, many things to see at Jim's house:
This last one is of the man himself
Brian: So here we sit at the Waffle House in Wapakoneta, reeling from what will certainly be one of the most memorable days on this trip if not in our lives. Check Nick's Facebook account for an album of all our photos.
Nick: If every other day is a quarter as interesting as this one then the trip will be an absolute success.
Brian: Indeed. It is closing in on midnight and we have no idea where we are going to stay tonight. The talkative waiter at this fine establishment just revealed to us that there is a half-mile wall/mural of art in the town of Portsmouth, OH. On the other hand, the world’s largest private Lego collection is only 3 hours away. Wherever the road takes us… Nick and Brian out.
Nick: Brian strolled up after deplaning from an obnoxiously late flight out of Atlanta. He had no checked bag. That was fine.
Brian: That afternoon, we caught up over Mexican food and drinks, which extended late into the evening. The first night was a standard alcohol-filled celebration of the reuniting of old friends. Beer, pizza, and billiards with a gentleman who looked surprisingly like one of Nick’s old roommates. The night ended with a stumble through a pack of bridge rats and spider webs to Steve’s office, where singing and guitar wailing preceded passing out on leather couches.
Nick: Let the reader note: while it is the intended purpose of the authors to express writing which, at all times, maintains the highest degree of journalistic integrity, flawless recollection is often impossible as the previous night’s events are frequently recalled in small fragments surrounded by no small amount of darkness and confusion.
Brian: Scotch is delicious.
Nick: That’s what I just said
Brian: And she said… or he said. Day two required a fair amount of R&R, but a couple beers around 3pm readied us for another evening of debauchery. The main difference being that we decided in advance to sleep in our beds back at Nick’s house: another sunbeam-in-the-face wake up call at 8am was undesirable. I made the mistake of wearing my hiking shoes out to the club (Nick clarifies that this so called “club” barely qualifies as a bar) and was told by the bartender that “I clearly wasn’t from around here and that usually people wear dress shoes when they go out to bars. Oh and lose the hat.” I guess I showed that guy when I spent the evening dancing with an Au Pair from Switzerland. I suppose being from the country that invented the Swiss Army knife allowed her to appreciate the utility of my Merrills.
Nick: Right. The following day, we took care of a few odds and ends in preparation for the journey. The evening consisted of fantastic Cuban cigars, fine scotch-
Brian: Alcohol goes bad if you don’t drink the entire bottle of it in under 30 hours.
Nick: -and outstanding conversation about a wide range of topics, most of which were concerned with questions regarding religion and spirituality, our hopes for the trip, the value of true friendship, and the exciting prospect of an entire country waiting for us to discover, one city at a time. Also, we both decided that given the choice, we would marry Belle, sleep with Pocahontas, and kill Ariel. There is also an honorable mention to Maid Marion who is, undeniably, a fox.
Brian: Totally. When you are riding a bicycle through the streets of Carmel at 1:30 am, these issues are bound to come up.
Nick: This is true. O.K., so we’ve now come to our departure date. Monday, September 14th, 2009. It’s 1 o’clock and the car is loaded, the tank is full, the house is clean. And we have an address: a place described in the book “Weird USA” as the Temple of Tolerance, located in the dead center of Ohio, far from any major cities. Far from anything really. The book’s description was vague, and we were unable to find a website with any more information. All we knew was that the place looked interesting from the few photos available, and we needed something to do in the Buckeye State. Without being sure that the place that we knew nothing about still even existed, we set out to reach the small blue dot on the car’s navigation screen signifying our destination. When the soulless drone of Lucy’s voice informed us that we had arrived-
Brian: Lucy is the name we gave to the robotic voice of the car’s GPS that issues periodic navigational commands.
Nick: And now you know.
Brian: And knowing is half the battle.
Nick: You know, I’ve always thought that military intelligence was at least half the battle, though I guess I don’t know as much about modern warfare as the politicians we’ve elected to handle these important decisions.
Brian: Or G.I. Joe.
Nick: I think we’ve digressed. When we arrived at our intended destination, there was little to clear up any of the mystery surrounding our first official road trip stop. In fact, we didn’t even know if we had made it or not. There was nothing: no sign, no parking lot, no indication whatsoever to suggest that the street we were driving down consisted of anything more than small, suburban houses that lined it. After turning around and driving down Wood Street two more times, we finally spotted a slight oddity in the row of tightly nestled residences that each seemed so normal. One house had strange rocks resting near the sidewalk, and a giant bush that filled the entire space, creating a cave of vegetation extending back from the street. Puzzled, we parked the car and walked towards the house. A woman next door was playing with her child.
“Excuse me, but is this the-“
“Yep”
Clearly, we had arrived someplace interesting. Just what the place was, and who was responsible for it though, were questions that could only be answered by venturing through an old iron gate and into a dense, dark, tunnel of wild, foreboding overgrowth.
Brian: We emerged from the trees in a Narnian fashion to a place reminiscent of Narnia itself. Hundreds of stone altars artistically littered a several acre plot. Closer inspection revealed that the formations were constructed not only of large stones but also of statues and trinkets that reflected thousands of years of world history. The jail cell door of the first man executed by the death penalty in the county. Memorials for each American war. Statuettes from China, Japan, India, and the Native Americas. This was what is perhaps the greatest private collection of world history on the planet. This was all in the backyard of an unassuming residence in Wapakoneta, Ohio.
Nick: Ever heard of it? Thought not.
Brian: But the strangest element of the scenario we found ourselves in, by far, was the incredibly talkative and zany builder and proprietor of this mind-blowing garden. It is a daunting task to describe this man with words. Glass-eye, long white hair pulled back into a pony tail, rocking incessantly as he chattered with us for upwards of three hours about romance, spirituality, war and peace, happiness, success, forgiveness, and sex. His messages were hilarious and insightful, and most eerily of all each story he told was a reflection of a conversation Nick and I have had already since my arrival last Friday. He took us into his home, and our minds were doubly blown. If there were hundreds of altars in his yard, there were thousands of knick-knacks in his 70’s inspired living room and frankly all throughout his house. The Virgin Mary holding hand grenades. Hundreds of coins strung along his ceiling carried by soldiers in wars. Nazi daggers and Klan hoods. These lists are getting monotonous, but I can honestly say that I spent five hours on his property and saw about 1% of what he has to offer. The experience was simply unreal.
Nick: I agree. I suspect today’s experience will be one of the hardest things on this trip to describe. I feel like there were so many parts of not only what this trip is supposed to be about, but also where I feel I am in my life embodied by this visit that my descriptions can only be made in fragments: Jim spoke of the transformation of the lives of troubled local teens that would come hang out in his yard. As an artist myself, I’m keenly interested in the relationship between transformed space (this incredible sculpture garden) and transformed lives; kids that are unused to kind words and warm hearts are exposed to and changed by Jim as he waits patiently on his swinging bench, ready and eager to talk to anyone interested in listening.
He talked about the importance of recording one’s thoughts and ideas in journals and books, and as a beginning writer myself, it couldn’t have been better to hear (Jim writes ten poems every morning, and has for years apparently). Finally, I took away from this visit a bold command from the place itself that declared clearly: Go! The world is full of mysteries and treasures to discover, interesting people to meet, personal growth and insight to achieve. What a better way to begin a journey such as this? Here are but a few or the many, many things to see at Jim's house:
This last one is of the man himself
Brian: So here we sit at the Waffle House in Wapakoneta, reeling from what will certainly be one of the most memorable days on this trip if not in our lives. Check Nick's Facebook account for an album of all our photos.
Nick: If every other day is a quarter as interesting as this one then the trip will be an absolute success.
Brian: Indeed. It is closing in on midnight and we have no idea where we are going to stay tonight. The talkative waiter at this fine establishment just revealed to us that there is a half-mile wall/mural of art in the town of Portsmouth, OH. On the other hand, the world’s largest private Lego collection is only 3 hours away. Wherever the road takes us… Nick and Brian out.
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