my love affair with Rt. 95

You can go all the way from Presque Isle to Miami without ever leaving Interstate 95. Should you ever want to do such a thing, that is. Fortunately, we were only it through seven states today: Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Delaware and Pennsylvania (for a hot second each), Maryland, and now the District of Columbia (still taxation without representation). I'm pleased to report that despite the complexity of our directions (stay on 95, continue staying on 95) we managed to not get lost. And, praise Asphaulta, there was actually no traffic to speak of.

Erika is gleefully keeping track of all the rivers we have crossed, and is documenting each crossing (see slideshow). When not taking pictures, she's been kind enough to read aloud to me from One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Our last stop of the day before arriving at our final destination was the bustling metropolis of Beltsville, MD, named in homage to the incomparable Interstate 495, a.k.a the DC Beltway. We just couldn't pass up such a charmingly named locale (although it almost lost to Suitland). A haven for appreciators of industrial parks and private sector "campuses", it also harbors an incongruously good Mexican restaurant entitled Gringana, which we highly recommend, should you (God forbid) ever find yourself in Beltsville.

Following these scintillating adventures, we made our way to the home of our friends Mandy and Rob Keithan, on whose hospitality we are imposing tonight. Reminiscing about the thrilling excitement of our day's adventures may keep us awake, but somehow we zzzzzzzzz....