Right Wing Nation

July 1, 2005, a cool clear Friday morning. That was the day the movers came (to move us out of that wonderful great big ranch in the country in Monroe County–a house I will always miss) and Dolly and I got in the Explorer, loaded so tightly I could barely see behind me in the rear view mirror, and left Monroe County at 7 am. I had only been out here once, and just past the Pittsburgh exit we had taken some godawful two-lane all the way here, full of traffic, and impossible to make good time on. It may have been fewer miles, but I was going to take the Pennsylvania Turnpike to I-99. Trust me. After you’ve driven all the way across Ohio, you really, really, really want to get here as soon as possible.

We stopped at nearly every available opportunity, not just because I needed to pee (and half the time, I didn’t), but because I had a puppy with me. There was much sniffing and excitement along the way. Traffic was awful from Bloomington to Indianapolis (rush hour), and even worse on 465 (Indianapolis rush hour), but once I was on I-70 and past the business district, the traffic was thin.

There was very little traffic in Ohio, which is a good thing, because even though it’s one of the most boring, soporific drives imaginable, if the State Troopers aren’t out (and I didn’t see even one), you can make really good time. I-70 is wide and straight and level, until you get to the eastern part of the state. That’s when you start to climb into the Appalachian foothills, just before you get to Zanesville, and Ohio is no longer boring.

Wheeling, then the Pennsylvania Visitor’s Center in Claysville. We stopped there (it’s a good thing, too, because it’s the last one for a good two hours) and Dolly stretched her legs, hopped around, and did a great deal of sniffing. There still wasn’t much traffic, though I’d never driven the road, and I’d forgotten the map, so when we got to Pennsylvania, I slowed down because I had only a vague idea of how far I was from here.

You have to exit I-70 to get onto the Turnpike. I didn’t miss that exit, but as soon as you exit, you have to take another exit (depending on whether you’re going west to Pittsburgh, or east to Philadelphia), and the exit is ass-backwards (you exit to the LEFT to go east). I almost ended up going to Pittsburgh, and would have, had there been anybody else on the road, but I switched lanes and got on the Turnpike.

The Turnpike was almost spooky. The whole time I was on it, I saw fewer than ten cars. Of course, that’s when I found out what the Pennsylvania Turnpike is like–forget making good time, even if it is empty. That’s also when I found out you go for miles between exits, and how few rest areas there are in this state (much like Indiana). Since I’d forgotten the map and didn’t really know how far it was to the exit, and since it was so far between exits, it seemed like the longest part of the trip, but I finally got to the I-99 exit at Bedford–and chuckled, because the first sizable town south of Bloomington is Bedford (Indiana).

It’s astounding how many place names the two states share. Dubois (pronounced the same way, doo-boiz). Bedford. Palmyra. Paoli. Oh. I’m off on a tangent. Sorry. I-99.

I might have gotten lost as soon as I got off the Turnpike had the “Altoona” signs not been there. Left, another left, then exit onto I-99. It’s a little rough when you first get on it, but it smooths out, and once you climb into the mountains, all I can say is wow. I-99 is one, great big, picture postcard, following the mountain ridge, with the adjacent ridge on your immediate left as you drive northeast, and the valley beneath. I knew I was about two hours from here when I got on I-99.

Thank God I was driving an Explorer. Maybe the best thing is how comfortable the seats are. My butt never got tired, and it was probably about 4 pm when I got to I-99 (yeah, yeah, I know, but I’d never driven out here before, and wasn’t quite sure where I was). But when I got to where I-99 abruply ends in Tyrone, I knew where I was.

Almost here, in Centre County. One thing I find strange is that the first sign you see that mentions Penn State isn’t until you get to Centre County. You’d think there would be Penn State signs on the Turnpike, or even on I-99, but there aren’t. I climbed Skytop, and in less than five minutes, parked in the driveway to let Dolly pee (the last time we’d stopped was at the truck plaza on the Turnpike). I pulled into the garage and parked, then entered the empty house. I was just glad to be here. Dolly, however, was a ball of curious energy, and wanted to play as soon as we got into the garage (click on the pictures to see the larger ones).

As soon as I unlocked the garage door and went into the house, there had to be much bounding and running and other doggy behaviors–particularly when she discovered the stairs:

Then, of course, much sniffing about:

The last thing I wanted to do was drive, but it was an empty house, and I nothing to sleep on, and we were both hungry. So I put food down for Dolly, and went to (ta-da!) Wal-Mart to get an inflatable bed. By the time I’d turned around, she’d finished one side and was ready for the other:

By the time I’d inflated the bed and tossed the pillows and sheets on it, Dolly decided it was just for her:

I did manage to scoot her over far enough that I could sleep on the bed.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 13th, 2007 at 8:12 am and is filed under Dogs.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.