The day after the awards banquet, I took Dale to the Halifax airport to fly home, and Sue flew in there to join me. We stayed the night then headed west, took the shorter ferry (from Digby to Saint John), stayed the night there, then drive to Portland via back roads and the smallest border station I’ve seen (St.Croix, NB to Vanceboro, ME). The Hampton Inn has a tiny lot, so they insist on valet parking. I couldn’t convince the young valet that he wouldn’t know how to start (or drive) the Studebaker, so I left him the keys and went to check-in. Some time later, I returned and he sheepishly admitted I had to move the car (and that he’d offered his colleague $10 if he could figure it out). Take that, Millennial Pride!
We saw the Independence Day celebration there in Portland harbor, picked up some of our favorite blueberry pies, ate at one of the few open places nearby (sold out of lobster!), and retired. In the AM, we made for Kennebunkport Motor Lodge, where we arrived just in time for me to fix the swimming pool pump (what are engineers for, if not to fix things?). The proprietor has just recently inherited the place and is bringing it back to life. Then we relaxed…
We met with cousins and buried Uncle Gordon’s ashes, sleeping again before the ride home through New Hampshire and Vermont.
Here are two of my favorite images from our visit to Maine (just because…):
And here we are again, after the long Great Race 2018, proving that no matter where you go, there you are. Old Bender was a trooper throughout, with nary a complaint nor fault (other than my own spark timing futzing). From home to Buffalo, Buffalo to Halifax in the event, and then Halifax back home again, for over 3600 miles, including a 16th place finish, all while using less than 3 quarts of oil and 150 gallons of dinosaur juice. Not bad! HECK, THE WHITEWALLS AREN’T EVEN THAT DIRTY.
Thanks again to ALL the Volunteers, Staff, and other lunatics who make the Great Race possible.
See ya next time,