As Ted and I make our way to Prince Edward Island, we have tried to make our journey as simple as possible. After ruling out a flight that would take 14 hours at a minimum, we decided to drive my car. And because Ted lives on Long Island near the Pt. Jefferson—Bridgeport Ferry, I thought it would be easier for Ted to take the ferry rather than drive through NYC to my house. (Besides, I owed him for last year’s not-so-short detour to in-the-middle-of-nowhere, MD, to pick up an order of carnivorous plants for Ann’s Place.)
The morning showers moved out early leaving a pristine day to start the trip. After mounting my bike to the roof of my car I left Ridgefield to get my cycling companion.
I hadn’t been to Bridgeport for years and it seemed that little has changed around the ferry terminus. Empty looking streets and buildings are the dull backdrop against the harbor. The Bridgeport power plant sits and blinks as I remember it from over 40 years ago when I took my first trip on the ferry. Amtrak trains move north and south slowly as they solemnly announce their arrival and departure. The track’s stone block base is black with age and sits as a dingy edge framing the terminus.
Ted’s ferry, the PT Barnum, soon comes into view and is brought to port. Ted emerges, laden down with all his bike will carry over our 350-mile sojourn. As rain threatens, I waste no time getting his bike on top of the car and we start our journey north.
The drive to Bangor, ME, our first stop, is uneventful with sporadic rain showers accompanying us all the way up. After dinner, the sun breaks through the clouds giving us confidence that the later part of our journey will be bright and sunny. Then all of a sudden we see two shadowy bikes flanking our right, keeping perfect pace with our vehicle. It is an illusion but a happy one as it fades with the sun as we drive into another bit of rain and the encroaching night.
