Life on the New Jersey Turnpike

I live at Exit 6 of the New Jersey Turnpike. Some of you may know it as Pennsylvania.

I've often thought that if I had used all the hours I spent on the Jersey Turnpike towards a single goal I might have learned fluent Mandarin, earned Olympic medals, or bought a beach house with my gas and toll money. And, I never used the highway to commute. I viewed my hours on the road as wasted time especially in the years when I traveled with an AM radio. But yesterday riding in the backseat of friends' car, I saw the turnpike differently. I recalled memories covering the entire span of my life. The Jersey turnpike is an unique position to do that. We are about the same age. Aside from the first few years of my life when I wasn't doing much traveling, the turnpike was my contemporary.

I don't remember my first trip on the turnpike. I took the highway, the concept of a highway, for granted. For me, it was always there.

The turnpike was the road to New York, and my family traveled there regularly. First, with my brother and sister and later, because I was the baby, with just me alone in the backseat.
Here's what I remember from the era I rode the turnpike as a child.

Playing WHO AM I. Mostly because everyone found it hysterical when I asked "Have you ever appeared on the 'Betty White Show?'" To this day, I have no idea why they found that so funny. (I loved Betty White)

Playing SPOTTING LICENSE PLATES. Did this game even exist before superhighways?

Stopping at the Joyce Kilmer rest stop, the first place I ever encountered chocolate mint ice cream. God bless you, Howard Johnson. Only recently did it occur to me that Joyce Kilmer was approximately 45 minutes from where we lived. Okay, maybe 50 at sixty miles per hour. Yet, we always stopped. Didn't want to hit New York hungry.

Smelling Elizabeth. I never failed to respond to the odiferous section of the turnpike with moans, groans, and calls to roll up the windows. (No AC in those days.) I recall flopping around as in pain when I had the backseat to myself. I was so happy when Elizabeth NJ stopped smelling. It smelled yesterday. The air-conditioning didn't help.

The last family trip I remember was the only one I made with my grandmother. I was old enough to do the driving, and the speed limit was probably then 65 mph. I now wonder if she had ever been on a highway before. She may never have gone that fast. She was frightened. I was annoyed that my father insisted I drive in the right lane at the minimum speed of 40 mph. I wish I'd been more understanding.

My brother and his family lived in New England so, as an adult, I found myself starting every trip from Philadelphia on the turnpike. There was a time I swore it was always raining on that road. It was not raining yesterday, but it poured on the trip home.

Later, when I lived in New England, I would start and end many trips on the NJ Turnpike. Eventually, out of sheer boredom,  I found many alternative routes. Many. Not as direct but not as familiar (i.e. monotonous). I guess familiarity can breed contempt. But my old VW convertible and I still found ourselves together on the turnpike on more than a few occasions. There is something to be said for familiarity. And, not just the rest stops.

There are benefits to driving the turnpike. 

One is the view of Manhattan. When I lived in New York, the sight of Manhattan across the river signaled I was almost home. But just passing by was a treat. The most beautiful view? The twin towers of the World Trade Center painted an orangish-gold by the setting sun.

Not all my memories are sweetly sentimental. 

One night around Exit 8 on the turnpike going south, I discovered the people in the car behind me had just gotten on at Exit 9. How, do you ask, did I learn that? Well. When you sit for five hours in the middle lane of the turnpike in what is increasingly becoming the middle of the night, you tend to make friends. There's not much else you can do in the center lane when just a dozen car lengths ahead of you, a car hit a bus that hit a Brink's truck that might have actually hit a semi. We sat while they not only cleared the accident but picked up all the change that fell out of the Brink's truck onto the highway. And New Jersey made us pay the toll. I was going to pursue the injustice of charging for that trip, but priorities changed. That was the last night I saw the twin towers of the World Trade Center. I don't recall looking, but I always did. Within a few weeks they were gone.

Things I learned:

Never change more than one lane at a time. I learned that when I chose to not go all the way from the right lane into the left lane. Luckily. Two cars raced by at about 100 mph. 

Never sit in the left lane unless you are going well over the speed limit. Well, never even venture into the left lane unless you are going well over the speed limit.

When traveling on Christmas, always use the truck lanes. It appears that most truckers don't work on Christmas. 

And, don't forget to check out the New York skyline.