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The Scenic Route by John Michael Flores My college days are disappearing in the rearview mirror of life faster than you can say, cheezy motorcycle metaphor, yet the roads that connect my hometown of East Hanover, NJ to my collegetown of Ithaca, NY are etched in my mind with a permanent marker. 80 West. Delaware Water Gap. 380 West. Scranton. 81 North. Binghampton. 79 West. Ithaca. With the exception of 79, each road is a model of mind-numbing efficiency. I plied these byways as a student, forever rushing to get to one of the endpoints - with never enough time or interest to explore what lay between. This time, on a weekend trip to meet friends in Ithaca, I vowed to see what I had missed all these years. The trip North was a dismal failure. I sense it coming, as my Friday 2pm ETD slips to 3pm slips to 4pm, slips to Escape from New Jersey Summer Rush Hour Weekend Exodus Hell pm. While I do manage to avoid 80 and the Gap, I follow a string of cages north on Route 206 spaced just wrong preventing safe overtaking and any sense of acceleration. By the time I reach Milltown PA, I have to chase the setting sun and take interstates to Ithaca. Boring, as expected, except for toying with the odd leadfoot who thinks that their expensive European sports sedan can accelerate like a modern multicylinder sportsbike. No chance, junior executive. The weekend itself is fun - good food and good times with friends. Ithaca is a great weekend getaway town - good restaurants, wineries, waterfalls, gorges, etc...the things I did not take enough advantage of when I lived there, but now relish. The return trip starts much like the trip up, charging down 79 towards Whitney Point, playing some more I watch the expensive European sports sedan become a small dot in my mirror on this rural, rolling, farm-lined two-laner. While fun, this is not the type of riding I hoped to do this weekend. At Whitney Point, where I usually join 81 South, I stay on 79. The vibe and my attitude change almost instantly. I am still on a rural, farm-lined two-laner, but gone is the hustle and bustle of other vehicles rushing to the interstate. Now I am able to focus more on pastures than on passing, and absorb the idyllic Americana that fills my periphery. Piloting the bike through gentle bends echoing a nearby river, I roll through small, well kept towns still groggy on this early Sunday morning. No, I am not on some awe-inspiring mountain pass in the Alps, or in some too-picture perfect NewEngland hamlet - but like Goldilocks, this vibe is just right. My meandering on 79 lasts until Route 17 at Windsor, where I choose to head East on 17 in search of the Catskills. 17 is a gawky, pubescant road in these parts - one moment a smooth, modern, 4 lane highway, the next moment an overgrown county road with traffic lights. Its saving grace is the hilly land it traverses like a sinewy, high-speed contour line. You can balance on this line at 80+, bike leaned over some, hanging off some more, pretending to be on Monza's Parabolica curve. Back to top .....continue to: The Scenic Route Pages Article Archive 
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