by Murray Segal
“This might work.” I try to be very casual in my response. “Can we take it for a test drive?”
“Sure. You can take it for as long as you like. Try it out thoroughly.”
“Well about an hour or less is all I need.”
“Good. May I see your driver’s license?”
“Sure,” as I hand him the Harry Stein version of my license.
“Ah. A member of my tribe. Nice to meet you Harry.”
He hands me the license back and flips me the keys. Silvia and I get in and start the engine. Sam waves to us as we leave the lot and head toward the Interstate. It started easily and runs smoothly. I stay just below the 65-mph speed limit on the Interstate. Everything appears to work well including the steering, the brakes, the windshield washers. There is no unusual noise from the exhaust system and all the instruments work. The interior is clean and well cared for.
“Silvia, I think this car fits our need perfectly and now the only problem is how to get Sam to take care of the registration and insurance.”
“Why don’t we ask him to rent the car to us on a long-term basis, say six months, so then he takes care of the insurance and registration?”
“That’s a great idea. He will probably charge us an arm and two legs to do this but that’s the only way I can see to get past the registration and insurance barriers and get the car on the road. You are so smart. You will make a great thief.”
We drive back to the lot and tell Sam what we want and surprisingly he will do it.
“I think I will need about $700 a month to cover that with six months due in advance.”
“That’s a lot and I don’t know if we can handle it.”
“If you will pay for all the regular maintenance on the car and any repairs necessary, I can get the cost down to $500 per month. That would also carry a mileage limitation of 1,000 miles per month.”
“We have a deal. We would like to get on the road this afternoon. Any problem with that?”
“No problem at all. In fact, if you come inside you can have the car right now.”
“Great. Let’s do it.”
He is as good as his word. We are out the door in 30 minutes. I drive the Mazda to our Saab and Sylvia follows me with it to the airport where I leave it in the long-term lot. I took the precaution of saving the original parking ticket. The Saab has been my favorite car for years and Gary, Adam and Tony have kept it running smoothly. I leave the ticket in the car and dispose of the new one. We both are very tired after the events of the past few days so we agree to stop over for a day. Silvia gets out our new AAA TourBook and decides we will stay at the Motel 8 in Freeport, the home of LL Bean’s home store.
“If we stay around Freeport we can load up on winter clothing that we will probably need up there in the north country.”
“Sounds good to me because it means that we can stop at Barnacle Billy’s at Perkins Cove for some lobster. It probably will be some time before we see a lobster again.”
“It’s good to see that the danger we are feeling has not distracted you from your appetite.”
“Hey. First things first.”
It is a short drive up Route 1 to Ogunquit and Perkins Cove. Ogunquit means “Beautiful Place by the Sea” and that most certainly describes Perkins Cove.
“This would be a perfect place to land, all other things being equal, but if the Nazis ever followed us here we would be trapped unless we could swim to London. I don’t know about you but I don’t think I could make it. I left my water wings back at home.”
“Funnyman. But that does raise the question about what kind of a place we are looking for. Perkins Cove is just ahead so maybe we could talk about that during lunch if it wouldn’t distract you from the lobster.”
“Silvia, nothing will distract me from lobster. That’s a question we should answer though before we leave here so we don’t go wandering aimlessly. Let’s go in and get a table outside where we can eat and scheme at the same time.”
I order two 1 pound lobsters for me and a lobster roll with no mayo for Silvia. You should begin to see why she maintains here svelte figure. It is a glorious day on the deck. Too bad it wouldn’t be a practical place to stay.
While we eat, we begin to noodle about a plan to stay well away from the bad guys.
“I think the most important attribute for a place to land would be that it offers a variety of escape routes if the Nazis get close. That means no place on the seacoast will do. And that means we head north a least as far as the Augusta area. You know dear lady that early in my career I did a lot of consulting work for the Maine State Highway Commission which turned into their present Department of Transportation (DOT). During that part of my career I travelled every mile of Maine’s primary highway system from Kittery in the south to Fort Kent and Allagash in the north. This gives me a feel for the state even though that was some time ago. We also need to remember that this trip may very well be a two- week vacation but it certainly could turn into a much longer stay away from home. Given our dwindling cash stash, we likely would have to find jobs to sustain us.”
“Oh no. Do you really expect that to happen? Will we be away that long?”
“Silvia, I don’t really know what to expect but what is that old saying? Plan for the worst and hope for the best. It strikes me that it would be prudent to find a place to live and plan that we might be there for six months to a year. To me all signs point to Maine’s northern most reaches otherwise known as Aroostook County, the potato capital of the east coast.”
“Oh my, that sounds like a perfectly dreadful place to live even for just a month.”
“Hey snob, why don’t you nose into your trusty AAA TourBook which should tell you something about that area. I might be able to fill in the blanks, here and there.”
“OK. Aroostook means Beautiful River. But that’s about all I get from the TourBook except names and telephone numbers of restaurants and motels. Let me crank up the Toshiba and see what I can learn about the county. Ok. The land area of Aroostook is just shy of 6,700 square miles which makes it the largest county east of the Rocky Mountains. In other words, it is huge. In 2015, there were about 68,000 people living there. Which is fewer than lived there in 2012. So, it is shrinking. That’s about ten people per square mile and that dear husband is tiny. Particularly when you deduct the population living in the few largest cities and towns. In other words, there are large areas of land where almost nobody lives.”
“It’s beginning to sound like a place where I neither want to live nor to visit. But it can’t be that bad, can it? What’s the population of Presque Isle?”
“It says here about ,9200 folks. That makes it about half the size of Exeter. The median house value in the county is about $92,000 and the median rent is $557 per month. If you hadn’t heard, it is known for the potato crop. They actually close the schools when harvesting time rolls around so the kids can help work in the fields.”
“I don’t believe that I will be much interested in potato farming. Tell me some good attributes of the area.”
“Caribou is the second largest city with about 8,200 people. Presque Isle is the home of several colleges including a branch of the State University. It has a weekly newspaper, the Star-Herald, no TV stations but several radio stations.”
“Stop right there. I’m guessing that if we decide to head for ‘The County,’ we should aim for the Presque Isle/Caribou area. Isn’t there a third town called Fort Fairfield to the east of Presque Isle that lies close to the Canadian Border? It seems like I was there a long time ago.”
“What a memory. I knew you could remember other things besides places to eat!”
“Very funny,” I respond with a grunt and a sour look.
“Oh, lighten up, loveman and forget about having the last word with me. You are overmatched.”
Truer words were never spoken so I remain silent.
“Presque Isle is also home to the Aroostook Centre Shopping Mall and the Northern Maine Regional ai
rport is nearby.”
“Silvia, Presque Isle is almost as far away from Miami as you can get. Are we agreed that we should focus on it as a place to land?”
“I don’t have a better idea, so yeah, I agree.”
“Good. Now, let’s get on to L.L. Bean in Freeport and stock up on warm clothing. You want to drive?”
“I do. It will keep my mind from wandering to the predicament that we are in.”
“When we near Freeport, I will lead you to their main store which is open 24 hours a day. There is also an outlet store nearby and maybe we should go there first.”
CHAPTER VI - NORTHWARD
We follow Interstate 295 northward to the Freeport, Maine area and then get onto U. S. Route 1 which leads us directly to Bean’s Outlet Store.
“Your expert navigator has safely gotten us to Bean’s. Has the drive tamped down your misgivings about our situation?”
“It kind of has. At least for the time being. Bring some cash and let’s go get some clothes.”
It takes me about 20 minutes to buy everything I need to keep warm this winter, even in the coldest of climes. On the other hand, it takes Silvia some 2 hours to do the same job for herself.
As we check out and walk to the car, it is approaching lunch time. The Toshiba recommends that we eat at The Tuscan Brick Oven Bistro which is just a few blocks north on Route 1. We eat a leisurely lunch.
“Silvia, it feels like we are deliberately trying to delay getting on the road, doesn’t it?”
“To be perfectly honest with you, it is deliberate on my part.”
“I guessed as much. I have an idea. It’s close to one thirty now. Why don’t we find a motel and spend the rest of the day here? We can loaf, read some, watch a movie or two and maybe even fool around a little. That way we can start out fresh early tomorrow morning.”
“I like the sound of that so long as I get to choose at least one movie.”
Our tastes in movies radically differ. I like mystery and film noir types while Silvia likes chick flicks, naturally. I notice she didn’t nix the fooling around part. It is a good trade off, one chick flick for a few hours of fooling around. I’ll take that swap anytime.
“Don’t think I didn’t miss the glint in your lascivious eyes.”
“I plead guilty as charged. Ask the Toshiba where to stay.”
It turns out that there is a Hilton Garden Inn close by and we get there in a matter of minutes. Great place. We splurge on a suite and drag our clothes and the MDTW inside. The place is great. Indoor and outdoor pools and a whirlpool. This is great for Silvia because she likes to swim. My asthmatic lungs limit my swimming dramatically. Just thinking about swimming brings back an ancient memory of my worst swimming escapade. I was a teenager and worked at Sears Park in East Hampton, Connecticut, where I was brought up. I bailed out the rowboats they rented out, cleaned up the leaves and tracked down the occasional lost boat. My swimming was so bad that I used to take a rowboat out into the middle of Lake Pocotopaug, throw down an anchor and jump off the boat to practice swimming. I use the word loosely because swimming was largely dog paddle, maybe a little side stroke. One day I went out there with a boat that turned out to be missing the anchor. I jumped off anyway and when I came to the surface the boat was long gone due to a very heavy wind. First panic. Then I regained my senses and decided to swim to an island in the middle of the lake. It was farther than going back to the shore but that would have been against the wind. I made it to the island and collapsed on the small beach. A few minutes later, Arnold Purple, the owner of the entire island sauntered down from his house. He took one look at me and asked, “Aren’t you Aaron Segal’s son?”
“Yes sir, I am.”
“Well, are you going to swim back to the park or could I take you in my boat?”
He is making a bad joke but I’m too young and shaken up to notice. “That would be good.”
I thought to myself there goes the job at the park and who knows what kind of discipline I would get from my parents. Lucky for me he never told anyone.
“Silvia, one thing that we didn’t get at Bean’s are swimsuits. This place has two pools and a whirlpool. I don’t know if Bean’s carries swim suits but I bet they do. Why don’t you take the car and get a couple of suits for us while I guard the MDTW and the cash here in the room?”
“Sure. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
An hour and a half later, she returned with suits for both of us. We began to undress to put on the suits. Alas we were interrupted by the need to fool around. We didn’t get to the pool for another hour, but who’s counting? We were in the pool for an hour and a half. Given my challenged swimming style I spent most of the time in the whirlpool, while Silvia divided her time between the two of them. We were too lazy and sated to venture out of the place for dinner but rather sent out for some pizza.
“Silvia, we need to pick out a movie to go along with the pizza. How about Deadly Affair with James Mason, Simone Signoret, and Maximillian Schell?”
“Not exactly a chick flick but the world is not perfect and I’m too tired to think of a film myself. Raise the curtain.”
“Let’s wait a bit for the pizza.”
I barely get the words out of my mouth when there is a knock on the door. I pay for the food and we start the film on Netflix. The end of a perfect day. The movie is fun but I do have some trouble understanding some of the dialogue. Part of the problem is the British accents and part is my ancient ears. Even Silvia has some difficulty with the dialogue, so it’s not just me. It is very late when the movie ends. We both take showers to wash off the chlorine from the swimming pool but we are too tired to fool around anymore. The TV news is showing the latest goings on in The Middle East, Syria, Turkey, and Germany. Not a pleasant way to end the day but the world is what it is. We skip the sports because we really don’t want to know about the latest struggles of the Red Sox, and their brand new 207-million-dollar pitcher, David Price. We fall into a deep sleep the moment our heads hit the pillows.
Bright and early next morning we have breakfast at the Inn and then take off northward on I-95. Silvia’s Toshiba has informed us that it is 270 miles to Presque Isle and it should take us about 4 hours. We could be there by lunch time barring unforeseen happenings, which always happen.
“Is it ok with you if I drive?” I ask Silvia.
“Yeah, I’m not in a driving mood. I’m particularly not interested in driving to Presque Isle, no matter how far it might be from here.”
“I know you aren’t and neither am I, but we have been through this before and reasoned that it is our best choice. Your negativity is not helping.”
“I know. I apologize.”
We drive in silence, each thinking of all the places we’d rather be. This has nothing to do with Maine. It’s a great state and past visits there have been fun and fruitful. The fact that the Nazis could tracking us down casts a pall over everything else. We stay on I-95 and skirt the westerly most sections of Portland. This is the largest city in Maine with 66,000 residents and a healthy downtown. It is a major port in terms of product because many oil tankers visit the waterfront and unload their crude cargo to a pipeline which goes north all the way to Montreal, Canada. There are lots of things to do here in this vibrant city. Among the most memorable for me is a walking tour around Old Town and a cruise to the harbor islands. Food and drink is plentiful in Old Town as are the lovely tourists from all over the country who fill the bars and restaurants. What memories. Before I met Silvia, of course.
“Hey. Are you still with me?”
Silvia’s abrupt question brings me back to the present.
“I’m with you all the way, and back. Would you like to take over the driving for a while?”
“Sure.”
I pull off onto the breakdown lane and we quickly change places. This is not a recommended practice. This is a special circumstance and while it is unsafe and probably illegal, it is also the least of our worries.
“Ok cap
tain, take us away from the bad guys.”
“You know Harry, I have known fear in my life and I guess you have also but it has always been momentary. This is different and not fun. It’s there every minute and it’s suffocating.”
“I know it. Why don’t we just decide to relax and live in the moment. There are no physical facts to suggest we should be fearful.”
“You are right and I will do my best. The weather is cooperating. The day could not be better and the company is the best.”
“No truer words were ever spoken.”
The miles roll by. We stop for gas after a while. As we approach the capital city of Augusta, I say to Silvia, “Let’s get off at exit 109. You should have a peek at the seat of state government for your new home and besides it will give me a chance to do some more reminiscing.”
“You bet. I could do with a break.”
Silvia drives off I-95 and onto Western Avenue and just past the interchange is the Senator Hotel and Spa.
“I remember the hotel alright but I don’t think there was any Spa back in the day. I remember the bar and countless nights entertaining a few job specific officials.”
“Ugh. That sounds like hard work.”
“Not really. They were solid technical guys. We solved many problems at that bar and made the world a better place. At least this part of the world.”
“Oh, my God. Stop before I throw up.”
“Aw. Women. You just don’t understand the joy of designing a small-town bypass to take traffic out of a congested downtown.”
“Did you do that?”
“Well yes. I did as a matter of fact. In Ogunquit for one. Turns out the local merchants liked their tiny downtown congested. They did not appreciate what we were trying to do for them and rejected the plan.”
“Glory be, imagine that. They must have enjoyed the ringing of their cash registers. How quaint and unusual.”
“Never mind that stuff. We are here and we can do some sightseeing have lunch and dinner and stay over-night.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I hope I didn’t bruise your feelings with the sarcasm.”