162. Travel

And then not long ago  I found myself sitting in the  hot dog place in the village.  But it didn’t look like the hot dog place.  It was way too large.  I got up and walked around and realized I was in a New York State Thruway rest stop, complete with gas station, rest rooms and five different restaurants.  But I didn’t really know where I was on the road that runs from New York City to Buffalo.  I asked the woman in the gift shop the name of this plaza and when she replied, “Westmoreland,” I  knew I was near Utica in the Mohawk Valley. 

I didn’t know how I got there, but at least I was on the southbound side of the Thruway and could hitchhike home.You don't see anyone hitchhiking anymore and the reason is it's all but impossible to get picked up.  Nobody wants to take the chance anymore. So you hang around truck stops or jump the fence to get in a Thruway rest stop and ask guys for a ride.I walked around the truck area to the rear where the big tractor trailers pull in at an angle so that each is 15 feet or so ahead of the other and the driver can see more than just the trucks on either side of him when he parks.  I looked up through the cab windows for drivers ready to go.  One fellow was checking out something under his trailer and I approached him, but he said he wasn't allowed to take a rider.  

As I walked away a woman said, "You looking for a ride, Bub?"

Behind me stood an elderly woman and I wondered what she was doing in the truck area.

"I'm hauling to the West Side docks, she said, “12th and 23rd."

I knew she meant New York City and therefore she was headed down the Thruway, but it seemed unusual she might be a driver. She had to be 70 if she was a day.

"I'm 72," said Mary, later when we were up to speed and out in the lane.

"My husband, Walter, drove all his life as an owner-operator.  I took over when he died."

"You've got more stamina than I do," I said.

"I can see that," she said.  "You were sort of tottering when you climbed up into the cab.  And I bet you don't have much road experience either."

"'Fraid not," I said.

"You stick with me, Honey," she said. "I'll get you where you're goin."
I wondered if I should tell her I was a monk.