Living With Gramps - An Unplanned Trip To Newport
One day, Grampa wanted to go to Beavertail State Park. This I found surprising, since it is a place of jagged, slippery rocks. I’ve been there to poke around in the tidal pools and catch crabs. There’s really nothing else to do there.
As it turns out, he just wanted to sit in the car while I went exploring. I knew I could not walk as far as I liked and planned on checking in on him every fifteen minutes.
After poking around the shore for fifteen minutes, I returned to the car. He was upset. Somehow, he had in mind that we were only going to park for a couple minutes and then drive all the way home. I’m of the philosophy that the time spent at a place must be at minimum twice the driving time there and back or else it isn’t worth the trip and one is better off staying home. It had never occurred to me that a different mindset could exist.
Leaving the park after seeing barely one percent of it, my grandfather directed me back to the highway by a different route. A bit later, I saw a sign indicating the highway was ahead, but then I drove another two miles without seeing it. My grandfather told me to just stay on the main road.
Eventually, there was another sign, but the directions weren’t clear. There happened to be a side road to the right, but I had no reason then to think it led to the highway. The road by the last sign hadn’t. My grandfather said he didn’t remember this part and since he couldn’t read the sign with his bad vision, I was on my own. Since I was travelling north, right was east and left was west. Home was in the west (and therefore left), while the toll bridge to Newport was in the east (and therefore right). Obviously, the road to the right – if it ever connected to the highway at all – went to Newport, while the main road that gradually arched left must go home. I reasoned that if I was wrong, there would be a place to turn around and a clearer sign before I got on to any on-ramps.
As luck would have it, the main road was the on-ramp. Barriers prevented me from turning around. After turning left, it sharply turned right and dumped me on the highway going east! Not wanting to flagrantly violate the law by driving in reverse, still not one hundred percent sure where I was going, and thinking I might be able to talk my way out of paying the toll or that there still might be a place to turn around, I pulled slowly into the toll booth and someone immediately pulled in behind me. My grandfather yelled the whole time.
It took at least two minutes of explaining the situation and then arguing before the toll worker offered a compromise. He charged me the normal toll to get into Newport, but gave me a ticket that allowed me a free pass through the return trip tolls if I made it there within five minutes. It was unfair, but I didn’t want to fight over such a small amount of money, so I accepted. We just barely made it in time. Traffic was so dense, it slowed us down. It took four minutes and fifty-nine seconds. Still, I got to see Newport for half the price – even if it was just the off-ramp.