NNJR Watkins Glen I
May 8-10, 1998
NNJR Watkins Glen I
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As my friends have known for years, I am a master of logistics and planning. Therefore it won't surprise anyone to hear that I got on the road from Manhattan to Watkin's Glen close to Midnight of the night before the first day at the track. I had used a software package (which shall remain nameless) to get directions to follow on the trip, so I thought I was all set, all uncertainties removed. Ha!
While still traversing the wilds of Northeastern Pennsylvannia, I needed to refuel. I was trying to go as far as I could before stopping, but I didn't really know how far I could go on a tank in this car yet, and I didn't know where the stations would be. To add to the foolishness, I'm in the habit of using Mobil gas and was hoping to find that brand/station.
After passing most of the way through Stroudsburg, I spotted a sign for a Mobil station on the next exit and took it. After wandering around a bit, I discovered that the Mobil station had closed earlier in the evening. I wasn't sure how much further I could go, or if I'd left the zone where I could expect to find many more stations. On the other side of the highway interchange was another service station, this one open. I decided to give it a shot.
This place was a combination mini-mart, gas station, and all-night laundry for some local population of college students and other assorted miscreants. It was a grim and dirty place, and I was just as glad that I wasn't staying. I got a lot of sidelong looks as I got out of the car, and for once I didn't feel foolish locking up when I went inside to have the pump turned on.
Once the pump was going I checked out the facility a little more closely. The gas was cheap -- too cheap. I checked around and could find absolutely no indication of what refiner had been involved in its production. "Great," I thought, "what kind of dirt and contaminants am I putting into my car?" That thought was cut short a moment later when fuel came bubbling out of the filler opening. Apparently the pressure cut-off in these pumps wasn't working, and now I had several ounces of whatever passed for high-test fuel on the side of my car.
I was not happy. Oddly, the attendant locked behind the counter inside did not seem overly concerned by this... After doing my best to save the paint under the fuel fill, I continued on my journey North.
I mentioned that the directions for this trip had been generated by a computer program. Somehow the logic built into the program had decided that the fastest way to get me from Binghampton to Watkin's Glen was to take every small, unmarked state road possible. If you're wondering what the best way really is, I think that for swiftness with simplicity, just take Route 17 West to Route 14 North. But I wasn't looking at a map, I was following the deus ex machina...
The route proposed by the computer was to get off of Route 17 one third of the way from Binghampton to Elmira, and take State Road 38 North. In fact, the directions had me following no less than six different State Roads - normal looking country roads with the occasional highway sign, if you were lucky - to cover 45 miles. Most of the changes involved turning from one unmarked street to another unmarked street in the center of such mighty and famous centers of civilization as Candor, Buttermilk Falls, Gridleyville, and Catatonic - I mean, Catatonk.
I finally got to my motel just before 5AM. As I figured it, I had about an hour to rest before I had to get ready to get to the track. Thank God Watkin's Glen is a friendly little town and I didn't have to wake anybody up to get into my room...