Cars

An Impromptu Weekend

We took advantage of a spur-of-the-moment getaway last weekend. I didn’t even discuss it with my husband. Just booked the trip and told him to pack. We never do this kind of thing. Travel is usually planned well in advance, which is why our quick trip to Stowe, Vermont, was such a breath of fresh air.

We left home around 6:30 p.m. Friday for the four-hour drive north through New Hampshire and into Vermont. It was still light out when we turned northwest to follow I-89 into Vermont where the mountains stood in purple silhouette against the pink sky. When we stepped out of the car at a rest area, we found the cool mountain air a welcome change from the hot and humid weather we had left behind.

We arrived at Stoweflake, a family-run resort just outside Stowe Center, at just about 10:30 p.m. The following morning, we dined on the outside verandah, then took a quick walk around the property to get our bearings. On the short drive to Stowe Center we noticed first one, then two, then dozens of antique cars — classics cars, sports cars, pick-up trucks, you name it, from the ’20s, ’30s, ’40s, ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. Turned out our quick trip coincided with the 53rd Annual Antique and Classic Car Meet. My husband, Kevin, had a ball strolling along the sidewalk admiring the vintage vehicles in pristine condition.

We wandered through the downtown shops, stopping into Laughing Moon Chocolates to pick out a selection of six hand-made truffles and perusing the crafts, pottery, jewelry and other treasures at Stowe Craft Design before heading back to Stoweflake, where I had scheduled an afternoon spa treatment. While I indulged in a delicious Ayurvedic massage, Kevin headed next door to the Stowe Country Club to play a quick round of golf.

Later, when we sat at the bar for a pre-dinner glass of wine, I noticed how relaxed Kevin looked and how relaxed I felt — just 24 hours and a bit more than 200 miles from home and work. We enjoyed a great steak dinner in Stoweflake’s Charlie B’s restaurant and brought two decadent desserts back to our room.

The following morning, we strolled across the street to wander through Stowe Farmers Market, where we picked up locally made honey and preserves, tucked into honey-flavored freeze pops and purchased a fresh blueberry peach pie which we enjoyed at home that evening — still savoring the taste of our impromptu weekend getaway.

– Lisa Matte, editor in chief

A Summer Drive

While the East Coast has been sweltering under triple-digit temperatures and sticky humidity this week, the Pacific Northwest has experienced its own heat wave. Most of Oregon and Washington have seen highs around the century mark, though without the high humidity in the East. Even the normally cool coast reached 93 on Thursday, beating the old record high by nearly 20 degrees. Facing a four-hour drive from my home in Southern Oregon to Portland on Friday, I decided I should leave early in the morning to avoid driving during the hottest part of the day.

What with attending to some last-minute work projects, watering all the plants thoroughly and dealing with a few unexpected interruptions and chores, I found myself finally rolling out of the driveway at noon. So much for my missing-the-heat plan; it was already nearly 90. Nevertheless, I decided to begin my trip with the windows down and the A.C. off. I cranked up the volumn on the Classic Vinyl station on Sirius radio and headed north on I-5. Zipping along at 70-plus miles per hour, I found the wind blowing through the windows kept me comfortable enough, and I was able to enjoy not only the sights but the smells of a beautiful if toasty summer day.

Some of my favorites:

 – The peppery-dry aroma of sun-baked pines as I climbed from the valley floor towards the first pass

– The sweet, fresh smell of new-mown hay

– The sharp, woodsy scent of bark and sap as I passed enormous piles of logs being soaked down by huge sprinklers in a sawmill lot

– The mossy, damp-earth smell of markedly cooler air as the road passed over several rivers along the way

 All these complemented iconic sights of a midsummer day:

– Broad-winged hawks coasting the thermals over the fields

– Heaps of round hay bales (“toilet-paper hay,” so dubbed by my daughters years ago because they do resemble large, tawny-colored rolls of t.p.) scattered across gently sloping hills

– Rippling fields of grain ripening to gold contrasted against dark-green stands of trees

– Piles of thunderheads heaping up against the Cascades in towering billows of white, purple and gray

I have to admit that by two o’clock — when I reached Eugene, traffic slowed to 60 mph and the temperature neared 100 – I closed up the windows and let the air conditioning bathe me in cool comfort. My favorite part of the drive, though, was certainly those first two hours, when all the sights and smells of summer surrounded me and jogged memories of past summer days. I hope you’ll have the chance to enjoy some summer driving this season, with the windows down, the tunes cranked up and the sun high in the sky.

– Patty Vanikiotis, associate editor/copy editor 

Relocating

My husband and I spent last weekend in Portland, visiting with a large number of family members gathered to celebrate my dad’s birthday. But we were also there to help younger daughter Jenny prepare for her move there following her graduation from Loyola University in Chicago in May. Having enjoyed living in the land of extensive and efficient public transportation for the last four years, Jenny must now purchase a car to get her around town — and out on a few of the road trips she loves so much. Portland has a light rail and bus system, but it’s nothing to rival the CTA. And, too, a suitable apartment had to be found.

Born in Idaho and raised in Washington state, Jenny has never lived in Oregon, yet she is no stranger to Portland. Both her dad and I were raised in that city, and we still have lots of relatives in the area. Jenny has spent extensive holiday and vacation time there since she was a baby, so she is excited about moving there and discovering all that the Rose City has to offer. Nevertheless, when it came time to explore neighborhoods for apartment complexes, she didn’t have a clear idea where most were and how easy it might be to get from there to one of the hospitals where she might find work.

She’s spent the last few months scouring websites for possibilities. Certain amenities were a must (in-unit laundry facilities for one; no more hoarding quarters and trudging down multiple flights to a dingy laundry room!), and of course she had a limit on the rent. As with so many things these days, the Internet has made relocating to a new city much easier than in the “old days” (like when I was Jenny’s age). Not only did Jen check out a slew of apartment complexes on their websites, she then found sites which provided ratings and comments by people who’d actually lived in them. She gave a lot of weight to those when whittling down her choices of which places to visit, nixing those that perhaps had pretty pictures and enticing prose on their sites but which received low scores from former and current tenants. That wasn’t a totally fail-safe system; we visited one complex which had received really great ratings but whose units were at least 40 years old, looked like they had never been updated and had ant traps scattered about — no, thank you!

Jenny had also used her laptop to investigate a number of car models, checking out safety ratings, gas mileage and the all-important how-cute-is-it factor. She knew which manufacturers were offering zero-percent financing and rebates for graduates, and by the time she and Dad hit the dealerships on Sunday, she had narrowed her choices to three. Just as with the apartment hunting, though, she realized that the computer can give one only so much information. After navigating the test drives and conversations with salesmen and finance managers, the picture was clear, and (with Dad cosigning the paperwork) she became the proud owner of a shiny new car.

By late Monday, my nearly launched daughter had secured a place to live in her new hometown and a means by which to explore it. It was fairly quick work, backed up by lots of advance planning and information gathering. As I said, the computer has certainly put so much information at our fingertips to make relocating to a new place easier, but nothing can take the place of that final piece of real-life, on-site research.

– Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader 

A Snowy Drive

I feel like I just blogged! Oh, wait, I did. I switched with Kim as I was up to my eyeballs last Monday and she was traveling on Friday. I spent the weekend in the Outer Banks, taking care of a few things and missing the huge snow storm that hit Philadelphia and areas slightly south, including my route home through the Delmarva Peninsula.

I waited an extra day, returning on Sunday morning in the hopes that the snow would be cleared from Route 13, which runs through Virginia, Maryland and Delaware. Even waiting 18-20 hours after the storm, there was significant coverage on at least one of the two lanes as I approached within 30 miles of Dover, Delaware.

Traffic was slow and stop-and-go, so I decided to take the less-traveled route and use the totally snow-packed lane. Like the other lane, it had been plowed, but human nature kept drivers in one lane more than the other, so the traveled lane was clear and dry — but choked with trucks, cars and SUVs.

The right lane was packed with one-inch thick snow, but I had a weapon, an Audi A8. All you have to do is Google “Audi in the snow” and there are several YouTube videos showing the Quattro (all-wheel drive) in action.

Well, traveling 40-45 m.p.h. in the snow and passing others in the clear lane saved my travel time and led the way for others to do the same. Delaware, how about a more serious investment in plowing equipment? I know that there was 25 inches and near-blizzard conditions, but when I hit the area, the snow had stopped for at least 24 hours.

On the other hand, it was fun to test out the winter skills of the Audi and, hey — it was born in a cold snow, so it makes sense . . . .

– Fran Gallagher, publisher and CEO