On the Road Again

One of the beauties of being retired is the freedom to go anywhere at any time of your choosing.

That, of course, is contingent on being able to arrange for the care of three mules, two dogs, two cats and five chickens. Okay, so it takes a little foresight and planning.

Two weeks ago Terri and I were invited to visit her cousin and her husband at a home they had just purchased on the Jersey Shore. Neither of us had ever been to the Jersey Shore. We have a number of close friends who had rented vacation homes there, year after year, and raved about it.

Terri’s cousin had just reached the mandatory retirement age of fifty-seven at one of the Federal law enforcement agencies. Yes, you read that correctly. The mandatory retirement age is fifty-seven. Her husband, who is my age, had reached the mandatory retirement age and retired from the same agency ten years ago.

Both had careers in law enforcement spanning three decades and each had a distinguished career rising to the top level of the agency they were employed by.

My feelings about mandatory retirement ages have evolved over the years. At one time, I would have liked to serve on the Federal bench where an appointment is for life but in retrospect I’m glad it didn’t come to pass because the temptation to work forever might have been too much. I’m very comfortable with the decision I made to retire at sixty-six rather than seek another term this November, which would have been limited to three years. After all, if I had done that I wouldn’t have the freedom to pick up at a moment’s notice and go off to the Jersey Shore. I do, however, have to wonder about the wisdom of putting people out to pasture at age fifty-seven when they have acquired the knowledge and experience to contribute to public safety for at least another decade. But, I’m digressing.

Since I’ve never driven to the Jersey Shore, I decided to rely on Google maps on my mobile phone for directions. It gave us an estimated travel time of five and a half hours.
It became apparent that when it gave us this estimated travel time that it left out the state of Pennsylvania.
Pennsylvania has never started an interstate construction project that it intended to complete.
At first I was delighted that Google maps directed us to the 476 bypass which would avoid Scranton. My delight ended when I discovered that Pennsylvania was in the middle of interstate construction on this highway too. Rather than continue us on the bypass, Google directed us onto Route 76 which took us through downtown Philadelphia as rush hour traffic was beginning. We arrived at our destination almost eight hours after we left home.

Terri’s cousin and her husband had chosen the perfect weekend retirement getaway on the Jersey Shore. They were half a block off the main street and in walking distance of all of the shops and restaurants in the town. They were also two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean. The town had a boardwalk and beautiful beaches that ran for miles that made for a beautiful early morning or evening walk. The condominium that they had purchased had two bedrooms and a bathroom off the entrance way, the second floor had the living area, kitchen and another bedroom. Best of all it had a roof top porch where you could sit, have a cocktail and read or watch the sunset. It was a place made for relaxation and it was impossible not to relax. We spent two days with them enjoying the Shore and, most of all, their company.

On the third day it was time to leave and return to the menagerie.

To avoid the return trip through center city Philadelphia at rush hour on a Friday, we mapped out a different route home in which we picked up the 476 bypass upon entering the southern border of Pennsylvania. The trip was smooth sailing until I prematurely exited the bypass just south of Scranton.

I believe that Pennsylvania has been doing interstate construction in Scranton since I was born. In fact, I’m quite certain that the construction of the pyramids in Egypt took less time. Whatever time we were saving by missing Philadelphia was now being lost as we sat in Friday night traffic on Route 81 in Scranton.

After a couple of deep breaths and reminding myself that, now that I was retired and I had all the time in the world, I sat and concentrated on the audio book we were listening to.

We arrived home in about the same length of time it took us to get the Jersey Shore.

As Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz says, “There is no place like home.”

Eespecially if you have to travel through Pennsylvania to get there.