Book excerpt: The Last Three Miles

In my last entry, I talked a bit about the roads in Northern New Jersey, in particular the Pulaski Skyway. It's not an easy road to drive—however, since I grew up driving these roads, I don't see them as such a big deal. While I had my learner's permit, even, I often had to navigate 13-lane toll plazas on the Turnpike in order to get to the mall. Ain't no thang. As a result, driving anywhere else in the country is downright simple. LA? You don't scare me none. Boston is downright user-friendly. Let's go tour around Oklahoma City, it's all good. See what I mean? Daaaamn right.


In that spirit, I'd like to present you with an excerpt from Steven Hart's book, The Last Three Miles: Politics, Murder, and the Construction of America's First Superhighway, a book about the Pulaski Skyway. I started reading it upon coming home, and admittedly I stalled (no pun intended) on page 100 of the 192-page book; it was a little dry for my taste and I couldn't really get into it. I'd be willing to give it another go, however, after rediscovering this passage, which is a truly evocative description of driving from the Holland Tunnel and across the Skyway. (The author is a born-and-bred New Jerseyan.)


Below is the excerpt, in bold.

Initiation By Tire

We're here, we're here. I didn't just forget about this blog, indeed no. We have simply been running around like complete and total maniacs, I haven't had time to update.

Patrick arrived here in New Jersey on June 12 (two Saturdays ago), and literally within a few hours of his arrival we started running around and seeing the sights all around New Jersey and New York - aaand we still haven't stopped (though, seeing as Pat pulled a muscle in his leg in Pennsylvania the other day, we are taking it easy at the moment). Patrick, who spent most of his life south of the Mason-Dixon, vowed to himself some time ago that there are two places on the planet he would never visit: New Jersey and New York City. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha!

But, I think I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. It's time to back up a little.

The reason I created this blog was so that people who, like I used to do, are wondering what it's like to hook up with a relative stranger and run away with said relative stranger, can know precisely what it is that happens amidst the flotsam and jetsam left over once these decisions are made. I think an important part of the story, then, is my relationship with Patrick - the ins and outs and terrifying moments and marvelous moments and the general struggle that you face when you're still coming out of one life and trying to force your way into another (in other words - hitting the Rebound Road).

US Highways versus Interstates

After spending a few days (Tuesday evening through Saturday morning) in Tennessee with Patrick (during which we went to a Neil Young concert, organized a storage area, camped, ate Subway sandwiches in a hotel room and observed a fantastic rain storm, among other things), I hit the road again - this time toward Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where my brother has been living for the last seven-ish years.

From Knoxville to Pittsburgh is a relatively easy drive, straight up north through West Virginia. After leaving Knoxville you head East a little bit on I-81, then get on I-77. You could take I-77 a little West to Charleston, West Virginia, and get on I-79 and head back East, or you can go from I-77 to US-19 to I-79 and save yourself 2 sides of a triangle. I also had a feeling that US-19 was going to be prettier than the other options, so I decided to go for it.

Now it's time for a little educational blahditty-blah from me. I didn't know the difference until this weekend between US highways and Interstate highways. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm pretty good with maps. When I was 11, my family took a road trip from New Jersey to California and back, and in the process I learned how to read a road atlas pretty well. From there, I've driven from New Mexico to New Jersey (or vice versa) 13 times, and I've made the New Mexico-to-California trip six times, so I've done my fair share of back-and-forths.

So, that being said, I had no idea what the difference was between US-22 and I-22. Naturally, my dad, who knows everything, knew.