I left home on Saturday March 29th. I aimed to drive 800 of the 1,200 kilometres that separated me from a good friend in Virginia with whom I would spend the better part of Sunday. My initial plan was to stop somewhere in the vicinity of York, PA, then I was advised to go around DC by taking I-81 to I-66, then route 17 to connect with I-95 just past Fredericksburg. All well and good… except that I forgot about my new plan, or, rather, didn’t register that York was no longer on my itinerary.

Let’s start at the beginning.

I woke up around 6:30 that morning and had every intention of getting another hour of shut eye, but my excitement had other plans for me. Within minutes, I was up and at ’em. It took about an hour and a half to get out the door. It was bitterly cold out, but already the sun was shining bright.

I made a quick stop at a Tim Horton’s for breakfast, and then came the border, about an hour away. I decided to cross at Ogsdenburg instead of Watertown, even if this meant I would have a good stretch on a slower road on the New York side to get to I-81, instead of speeding along on the 401 on the Ontario side. I guessed, correctly, that this small crossing would mean a short delay.

Customs came after a toll bridge. The officer was kind, but wanted the full story of how and why my car was damaged. I started with the Reader’s Digest (TM) version, but finally gave him all the gory details. Nosy sonofagun!

Locals on that quiet New York road must have hated me, but I stuck to the speed limit and ambled my way down to I-81. From there, Syracuse, and lunch time, loomed up. Using advice I’d gotten from tripadvisor.com, I took exit 30 to get to a Wegman’s grocery store.

Wegman’s is a luxury food store in the style of Loblaws, with lots of pre-made food and gourmet deli offerings. I sampled a delicious Irish bleu at the cheese counter and bought a hunk for lunch. In the car, I assembled bleu cheese and apple slices on French buns for a most satisfactory lunch!

Then, I drove.

Shortly before the Pennsylvania border, I realised that there was no more snow on the ground and that the temperature was definitely inching its way up to ‘springy’ levels.

Around 5PM I found myself in York, PA, on I-83 with no inkling yet that I was in the wrong place. Accomodation had been plentiful before York in the vicinity of Harrisburg, so when I didn’t find anything suitable in York, I figured I’d be okay to push on for a bit. However, the scenery became rural very quickly, and then I passed into Maryland. As Baltimore loomed closer, I began to realise that I’d goofed.

There was no convenient place to pull over and check the map, so I pushed on on I-83.

Unfortunately, I-83 ends right in downtown Baltimore.

As a Homicide: Life on the Streets fan, I know that Baltimore is the murder capital of the United States. Soon as I found myself on a busy main street in that city, my heart started to race.

I’d survived being lost in Chicago’s South Side and visiting New York City’s Washington Park at midnight, so I kept my wits about me, figuring that my best bet was to get onto the opposite side of the street and come back the way I came. This took a few intersections and a couple of scary left turns (driving in Chicago at rush hour in construction was less terrifying). Sure enough, I saw signs for the I-83 and made my way back to it. I took the time spent sitting at red lights to pray and look at the map. So, once I made it back onto the relative safety of the interstate, I knew that I needed to take the 695 south and that, sum total, I was only about a half hour out of my way. That said, I had no plans to spend the night in Maryland, didn’t have a motel guide, and was nervous about circling DC. This little unplanned excursion into Baltimore was already making me laugh, but it was time to stop for the night.

Soon as I was on the 695, I kept my eyes peeled for motels, and pulled off somewhere in west Baltimore at an exit that promised beds, gas, and food. I took the name of the exit, Security Boulevard, as an omen.

My first choice was a Days Inn that was outrageously priced at 99$ per night (plus tax!). So, I settled on an okayish Motel 6. It was an interesting place to stay. Built on a hill, the motel had three separate buildings, one for the 100s, then one for the 200s a bit further up, and, finally, at the top of the hill one for the 300s, where I was staying. It was blessedly quiet up there, but a bit isolated.

For dinner, I decided to try an American chain called Applebee’s. Above my table, there was a sign that made me burst out laughing right there in public: “He who hesitates is not only lost, but miles from the nearest exit.” Another omen that this was where I was meant to be that night. Dinner was excellent; I’d go to Applebee’s again.

On the way back to the motel I saw a third sign that everything was fine–a car which had been purchased in the city that was Sunday’s destination, but which sported Maryland plates. Very odd.

My night at Motel 6 wasn’t very good. I was woken up by the phone two or three times. According to the operator, there was a problem with the switchboard and my room kept on showing up. Whatever. I told management that I was very unimpressed and displeased, not that that did anything. Anyway, I did manage to get about 6 hours of good, deep sleep, which is satisfactory for a first night on the road.

Even though I wasn’t where I was supposed to be that night, I’d done close to 1,000km and would have only a short haul on Sunday. It was a good day.