Wednesday, September 9, 2009

HESS and US RT1.





Yesterday I rode my motorcycle back from Waterville ME. Accompanying my girlfriend and deeming it dumb to take two cars, we opted for the Transformers option. In a form popularized by Hess's Christmas time toys, we put the motorcycle in the back of her pickup for the ride up, and then wheeled it out when it was time for me to head home. http://www.hesstoytruck.com/

My recently fixed 1982 Honda cx500 is a beautifully working machine, but it doesn't belong on I95 where people are cruising at 80 mph. That being so i started down US RT1. Rt 1
is the oldest highway in the US, simply, from what i knew of it in Maine,
i thought the whole thing would be quaint. (RT. 1 is in red, i traveled from the center
of maine to RI).
To the contrary, it was most memorably dirty, congested and derelict,
(save for resort to
wns in maine and farms in northern mass.)
This first picture is just south of Portland ME outside a Dunkin Donuts. Besides empty condos and falling values of corporate property, the rural face of the credit crunch seems to be empty motels. This stop was depressing, there were mostly overweight people driving overweight SUVs to eat calorie laden donuts, a treat made possible by US sugar embargo and Tax dollar subsidies.
After slow traveling, I had to get over to the highway, I traveled some time to Newburryport Mass where i stopped at a Mobile station. Inside, the song "smile like you mean it was playing". I only mention it because there could not have been a starker difference to the pumping lyrics and the attendant's expression.
(Here i am at the mobile gas).











I after close to 6 hours of ridding, i stopped at a truck stop to stretch out. Diesel engines are extremely hard to start, but i hadn't realized that sleeping truckers keep their engines going at these stops. I did a whole series of exercises and stretches, i was beat. The cx 500 is all you never need, but it certainly isn't a lazy boy. In retrospect, I'm glad i wasn't accosted by a lonesome trucker who mistook my my aerobics for a rendition of the YMCA.
Here we are weeds among metal and retreating vacationers, Route I95, 30 miles north of providence.

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