Many moons ago, Tyler and I crossed Lake Champlain via quaint car ferry on our way from Burlington, VT to Niagara Falls. The ferry is still there, doing its quaint thing and we pulled aboard at the crack of dawn after driving through a full double rainbow in the farmy, rain-soaked Vermont countryside. Bucolic, you might say.
On the other side of the pond, we spotted…a beaver! Yes, folks. A real, in-the-wild beaver shambling across the road. It was ludicrous. A man was standing there taking pictures, but the furry little rascal was too quick for us! I tell you, this is the funniest creature to see waddling about. That tail!
From here, we pointed the Hyundai towards the Adirondacks. And then spent a tremendous amount of time going seemingly nowhere on our big fancy atlas. By the time we made it to our lodging this night, we had spent two days of driving and covered less than 800 miles. But! We chose this path on purpose, for it is glorious.
If you’ve not driven through New York’s Adirondacks, go do so. Unless you’re my daughter Maren. She is prone to car sickness and would have perhaps experienced a bit of PTSD at driving past that exact same U-Haul parking lot that we arrived in by way of screeching halt two summers ago, just in time for her to unload lunch…inside the car.
It’s windy alright! Custom-made for the trio of Porsches we saw cruising through, replete with a 718 Spyder RS. Very spicy. Rand McNally earned his keep here as the cell signal was, well, not great.
Landing in Rome, NY, we had a mixed bag of experiences. Superofficial is a funky coffee shop that lands on the good side of that bag. Worth a stop. The sketchy Fastrac gas station? Not so much. Full of smurfers and, incredibly, expired Funny Bones, this joint was the start of a day filled with food misadventures.
For those who don’t know, Funny Bones are a snack cake favored by 11-year-old connoisseurs of ultra-processed crap. Such as myself, circa 1991. I haven’t had these chocolaty substance-wrapped confections filled with peanut butter-adjacent goo in decades, and was excited at the prospect.
Brimming with anticipation, I carefully peeled open the greasy plastic wrap to reveal what looked like Funny Bones previously consumed and regurgitated into the package. Adult friends of mine have since suggested that Funny Bones probably always looked like that. Rose colored lenses and all. But given this two-pack had an expiration date far in the past, I elected to pass. Apocalypse-proof Twinkies these ain’t.
Unsatisfied, we made haste for Niagara Falls. The Canadian side, to be clear. You see, on that last trip, I forgot my passport, and Tyler has never forgiven me. As everyone knows, the Falls are better in Canada. Triple-checking before departure, I had our border crossing papers prepared…and we almost didn’t make it.
The border guard was very nice. But on approach, Tyler, who was driving, suddenly informed me of a previously unknown condition of his that involves getting all nervous and jerky at border crossings. It went something like this…
Border guard: Do you have anything to declare?
Tyler: No.
BG: Do you have any meat or produce?
T: No.
BG: Do you have any weapons?
T: Can you define weapons?
<awkward pause>BG: Well, guns, knives, explosives…
T: I have a Leatherman!
BG: What’s a Leatherman?
Niel: It’s like a Swiss Army knife.
BG: You guys are good to go.
Safely across, albeit with a touch of flop sweat, we encountered roughly the entire nation of Canada elbowing for a view of the Falls. The streets, sidewalks, and parks were absolutely stuffed with humanity. With nowhere to park and no interest in joining the herd, we settled for a Niagara Falls drive-by. Turns out, it looks pretty cool from inside the car too.
Our final stop for the night was Sarnia, Ontario. We got there around 9 PM on a Sunday, so it was predictably shuttered. Thinking the hotel bar was still serving num nums, we stopped at a local market for a few essentials. My instructions to Tyler were water, beer, and donuts. All 5 food groups.
Shortly after entering said market, Tyler called me on the telephone, laughing with that tinge of mania which accompanies a too-long day in the car, making strange suggestions of hot dogs and a microwave. I read him the riot act, but to no avail. He returned with…yogurt…and two tall boys of no-name “beer”.
Then, the hotel bar stiffed us on food, which led to a desperate DoorDash request for Taco Bell delivery. To say it sucked would be an understatement, but the two aged ice cream sandwiches procured from the hotel snack bar really made up for it. All in all, a perfect day of road-tripping.
About the author: Niel Stender is an automotive journalist. More of his work can be found at muckrack.com/niel-stender