Following the Hancock Highway, I crossed the border from Pennsylvania into New York in the town of Hancock. For hours and hours, my belly had been growling. I felt the pasty, dry, mouth that comes from being foolish enough to not stop and take a drink when you should.
With only a crumpled $5 bill in my pocket it was slim pickins on what to do in order to stave off the hunger and dehydration. And there it was, like an oasis in the desert… The Golden Arches.
I’m paranoid about using sketchy gas station ATM machines and I never seem to have any cash on me. Hence only $5 in my pocket.
I don’t usually eat McDs. I know, I’ve mentioned that before. Trips to their shops only seem to come at desperate times; like late night in Lake Como, late night in Reykjavik and a rainy day in Liechtenstein.
I got a bottle of water and a cheeseburger and still had change left over. Its good to know you can get something to eat for less that $3 in just about any town in the US. It may not be ideal but its something.
When I’d walked in, I could feel the eyeballs tracking on me. Wanting nothing more than to be away from their questioning looks, I marched my road-filthy self back outside and ate standing in the parking lot looking at the map.
Now where the heck should I go?
With my tank and my belly full, I pointed my wheels north on county 67 to route 10.
It was just me, no other traffic at all humming along. I was making great time on the fast two-laner, but I’m not sure why. I guess sometimes you’ve just got a bit of get up and go you have to work out of your system.
I kept tracking north and east with no destination in mind yet.