My original plan was better. I know myself and I felt that if I ever ventured to New York City, I’d better travel with a friend familiar with the place who could show me the ropes, keep me moving and help me not look like a hippie-chick-from-the-woods-in-the-headlights with a giant target on my coat. So when my partner Iuval, who grew up in New York, asked me to travel there with him, it sounded perfect.

Then my mom was in a car wreck and Iuval and I spent a month on the road dealing with family matters, followed by a week in Berea, Kentucky for Christmas Country Dance School. When we got back to Heathcote and he said, “When should we leave for New York?” I couldn’t do it. I needed to be still and be kissed by dogs. He went on the bus without me and I planned to drive up alone the following weekend. Me. The small town kid who had panic attacks when she first moved to Maryland and drove around downtown Baltimore was going to drive into New York City alone.

This isn’t dramatic enough. Let’s add a snowstorm headed my way. Not enough yet? Let’s add that the windshield wiper jets on my car had failed and helpful poly sweeties Iuval and John had removed them, rigging a rubber hose with a nail in the end, held in position by a clamp. Let’s further add that this contraption only works at highway speeds. In case this seems implausable to you, I include a picture of my new hood ornament.

I decided to leave several hours earlier than planned, to beat the snow to New York City. But I had parked the Heathcote Earthings van on the lawn of Heathcote’s mill for our annual inventory and the battery had died. It wouldn’t take a charge and the first charger we tried appeared dead, too! Delays! I had to abandon that adventure and get on the road. Thanks to Heathcoters John and Bob for getting my van moving!

So I was on the road to the big scary city, alone with weather threatening. But despite  the annoyance of high tolls, the trip was fairly easy. I left early enough that I missed the ice that gripped NYC streets that night. And when the flakes appeared and I needed to use my sprayer, I was able to maintain those magic highway speeds. My gps took me a different way than Googlemaps, but I’m a wimp and it’s easier to listen to a computer voice than read maps in traffic. I found the Guggenheim Museum, about which I’ll post later. I even found a parking spot around the corner and nobody honked at me or mugged me. I am a powerful witch. I earned a cookie.

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