New York...

Recently, my brother Greg and I decided to visit our Dad near Newburgh, New York. Dad's not getting any younger, and he had to go into the hospital to have some tests done. We decided to take the opportunity when we both had the chance to make the 18 hour drive from St. Augustine.

Initially, the drive wasn't bad at all. We'd made good time during the day, and even had some time to take breaks here and there.

We made the obligatory stop at South Of The Border, although I won't bore you with the photos you've seen a bazillion times taken by everyone who's ever been there. Suffice it to say, if you've traveled along the I-95 corridor (and I-95 is a freeway, by the way), you've seen everything there is to see of SOTB. Except for, maybe, these:

Of all the plastic garbagy crab you can waste your money on at South Of The Border, I can't think of a finer way to waste your hard-earned greenbacks than to buy a pair of these. I've since been advised that I made a wise choice in deciding not to buy a pair of these. But you should. 'Cause they'll look good. You know... On you...

Our next prolonged stop was at a place known as Kenly 95, which is located in Kenly, North Carolina, or just about 70 miles south of the Virginia border. Just as I was thinking to myself  "This is the biggest damned truck stop I've ever seen", I learned that it was, at least, the largest truck stop on the east coast. It was H-U-G-E. It had the usual fare you'd expect to see at a truck stop: Bathrooms, showers, restaurants, etc. But this place also had what can only be described as a department store. You could buy everything from tactical uniforms to suitcases to toiletries, and you could even get your oil changed and your rig washed.

A festive holiday truck stop display...

For those of you who like pirates (and you know who you are), they've got one at Kenly 95. 'Cause, you know, nothing says "North Carolina truck stop" better than a pirate...

Need some more chrome of new lights for your rig? Well, here ya' go. I was thinking that Greg should've bought some for the Chevy Cruze, but I was out-voted...

 

I'm still kinda' at a loss for this one. It makes only a little more sense than the pirate...

 

As confirmation that, sometimes, he does know best, Greg had the Dairy Queen guy make our chocolate shakes with chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla which, oddly, is the norm. It was amazing...

As we made our way north, the weather, as you might suspect, started to change. Gone were the sunny, balmy days of St. Augustine. Now we were facing snow, ice and temperatures which would kill a penguin. Simply put, as much as we thought we were prepared, I think both of us were a bit taken aback by just how ungodly cold it was:

I'm sorry, but humans just shouldn't have to be subjected to such things...

Six inches of global warming fell on Dad's deck before midnight...

The next morning, we made our way over to the hospital to see Dad and, once again, the weather had its way with us. While this may be standard fare for the fine folks in Ulster County, it is decidedly not so for the two gentleman from Florida. It was cold. It damn cold, and neither of us liked it. Neither of us liked it one little bit. I just checked the freezer in the kitchen. It's nowhere near 3 degrees. Why? Because 3 degrees is just stupid.

We got over to St. Francis Hospital and found Dad to be in good spirits, if not completely miffed by the fact that he was stuck in a hospital bed. He wasn't happy, but there he was. After talking for a bit, I decided to go to the cafeteria and get some coffee and some breakfast. Now, I have to say, forget everything you know about hospital food. Not only was the food being served to Dad looking pretty damn tasty, so was the food in the cafeteria. I couldn't help myself:

This bacon, egg & cheese on a roll rivaled anything you'd fine in New York City...

After a few more hours of visiting, I decided it was time to take a walk and get some fresh air. I tried not to think about all of the germs and infectious diseases I was breathing in while indoors, so I though maybe a blast of cold, fresh air would counter it. I stepped outside into a Hellish white tornado of coldness:

It was a nippy 14 degrees when I took these pictures so, clearly, we were in the midst of a warming trend...

After leaving the hospital that evening, we decided to stop by Cafe 32, the bar and restaurant that Dad's friend Bert owns. Bert is a true and loyal friend to Dad, and we felt it was important to stop by. Of course, upon leaving, there was more snow to contend with:

I'm fully aware this hardly measures up to the snowstorms experienced by much of the country this year, but save it. We're from Florida. We don't have snow. I lived in San Diego for 30 years, and we didn't have it there, either. Greg left Long Island in 1983. Simply stated: WE'RE NOT 'USED' TO THIS, AND WE'RE NOT BUILT FOR THIS".

Somehow we managed to find our way through the howling blizzard of whiteout conditions back to Dad's house, where we elected to call it a night. Surely the next day would bring more of the same, and I think we both figured that we would be no more prepared for it than we were the first time around...