Our Chevy Chase Vacation Part III

I know all of you have been checking daily and waiting with bated breath for the next installment of our Chevy Chase Vacation. I actually didn't know it had really been that long . . . October was a busy month, okay? However, if for some reason you have not been enlightened on this vacation worth remembering (or not), grab a Diet Coke and read the previous two installments before reading on. Here's part I and here's part II. Enjoy! :)

Well, Chad and I got dressed again in our respective bathhouses, met outside to realize that neither one of us had quarters, and went to the little campground store to get some change so we could actually shower. We of course cooked our dinner on our Coleman stove and managed to see the Highland Lighthouse in Truro. We went to the tip of Cape Cod (since we were almost there anyways) into the quaint Provincetown. It wasn't exactly what we were expecting either. I won't go into the details here. We did manage to see some yachts and beautiful hydrangeas, but other than that, I don't remember much since we didn't have any money to pay for anything. . .

Boston was the next stop on our carefully planned out trip. My family took a New England trip when I was in high school and we spent a day in Boston. I absolutely loved it and wanted to show Chad Beantown and explore it a little bit more myself. So, we headed out early from Cape Cod to see Plymouth Rock before heading to the bustling city of Boston.

Okay, what do you picture when you hear about Plymouth Rock? I pictured a massive rock, probably big enough to fill a small bedroom, since it is such an important symbol/location of our nation's history. Nope. It is probably about three by four feet, and not very deep. In it is etched the year 1620. It is down in a big hole surrounded by railings which you look over to view it. The rat that ran across it while we were viewing it was a nice effect, too. And here comes my skepticism - how do they know that was THE Plymouth Rock? Once tourism started up, probably in the twentieth century, did they just pick a rock so that thousands of people would flock to see the "rock"and claim it was THE rock? I was a tad disappointed. Oh, and we looked at a replica of the Mayflower but didn't tour it because, hey, it cost money.

Leaving our disappointment behind, we excitedly headed straight to the center of downtown Boston and started trying to find a parking spot. Hmmm. I do not advise driving in Boston. The drama begins. Okay, now we thought New York was a tricky place to drive. You know - all the cabs zooming in and out, honking, people walking everywhere and darting in and out of cars, speeding cars, bikes, buses, and oh, did I mention the honking? Well, people, at least all streets in NYC run perpendicular and parallel to each other! In Manhattan, the streets running east to west are numbered in sequential order and have E. and W. marking them. All you have to do is memorize the streets running North to South and you can pretty much always figure out where you are (at least in Midtown). In Boston, I'm not kidding, the streets were circular and changed names every few blocks. (At least this is how it is in my memory). Now, I'm not an expert in many things, but I do pride myself in my map-reading abilities. I love looking at atlases and maps and always have. (I specifically remember waking up one Saturday morning when I was probably eight and tracing Africa and all the countries within on tracing paper. I labeled all the rivers and capitals too. And I did this for fun. I'm weird - I know.) Anyhow, we got completely turned around and kept trying to find ANY parking spot at all. The tension was running pretty high when there is NEVER any tension between the two of us. We FINALLY found an open parking garage and quickly turned in so that we wouldn't get cursed out anymore from the Bostonians who clearly knew where they were going. We whipped into the parking garage, got our ticket and passed through the raising arm, and then saw the sign with the parking garage fares. It read, $45.00 dollars per day, and the minimum for up to 30 minutes was $7.00. That's right people. I'm not exaggerating. Chad started going up the levels and I started panicking over how much we were going to have to pay just to park our car. Remember we had about a $500 dollar budget for the entire trip? oh yeah. I started to cry. (And maybe hyperventilate, too) So, we headed back down and bitterly paid $7.00 just to get out of that stupid garage. Bitter. Then, and only then, did I remember that when I went with my family we had taken a shuttle from our hotel in the suburbs into downtown Boston. And for good reason, too. How could I have forgotten this minor detail? We started to head out of town to possibly find a shuttle station or something, but to no avail. We drove by Fenway Park and I hopped out of the car to get my picture made by a Boston University sign. Not that we really saw either of these places, but we had to document that we actually stepped foot in Boston. You can see the true bitterness in my face.

Chad and I just decided we would scrap the day and just head to our campground that we had reserved a site at for that night. It had a covered bridge in the campground and was in the beautiful mid-state part of Massachusetts. We thought we would just relax and enjoy the beautiful nature for the rest of the day. On our way out of the bustling Boston that we just drove through aimlessly, we did find a little town/suburb/something with a quaint little square. We walked into a Five and Dime (it was seriously still called this - like you can get anything for a nickel or dime now) to use the restroom. We found a tee-tiny bathroom under some stairs and then perused the store. I seriously think some of their inventory may have been from fifty years before when you could buy it for a dime. Figures. Anyways, we went and had yet another pathetic picnic lunch sitting on a little hill right in front of where our car was parked. Seriously. I do not have a picture of this momentous occasion, but believe me, it is forever etched in my memory. I can still picture the tree that we were sitting under and the stores and houses all around. It was that kind of "did this day really happen that I have been looking forward to and it is all a bust" moment. Sigh.

After our quick PB&J sandwich, we headed to our campground. When we pulled up, there was as promised, the quintessential covered bridge. The check-in place was nice, with a well stocked little store and even a covered porch with swings. We had never seen such nice amenities at a campground before. Chad and I were excited to get settled and just relax. So, we crossed the covered bridge and then realized why there was a little store and an on-going game of checkers on the front porch. We were spending the night at a trailer park. a trailer park. and here came Cousin Eddie, ear flaps waving and Becky Sue running to greet us. To be continued . . .