Going Places on a Gallon
For many people it had been a four-day weekend. Now on Sunday afternoon, the Quickway was not living up to its name. The eastbound lanes were at a standstill. We assumed that most of the motorists were coming back from a stay-away vacation.
We were heading in the opposite direction, driving to Goshen for the end of the Great American Weekend. Parking could have been a challenge. But there were several options. We found a spot on a residential street that faced the backstretch of the Historic Track.
As we exited the car, the trotters were moving past us, warming up for the next race. We stood on tiptoes to shoot pictures over the fence. Then we assessed our surroundings. Across the track from us, the grandstand was more than half full. On the first turn, there were spectators seated at tables with umbrellas. We assumed they were customers at a restaurant. “What a great way to watch a race,” we thought.
So without asking questions, we followed the sidewalk to the property where we had seen the privileged viewers. But when we arrived at what seemed to be the right place, we didn’t find a restaurant. Instead, we saw an elegant residence, like the others around it.
Confused, we headed to the end of the block, where a spacious church lawn was filled with concessions — one right next to another. We were tempted to count them all, but instead we drifted over to the children’s rides to take a picture of the Dragon Wagon. We figured our Dragon fans in Cornwall would want to see that. We also stopped at the booth with wine slushies. It was a refreshing thought on a hot day. But remembering the Quickway traffic, we decided to abstain.
On the way back to the car, we saw a man with a vest marked “staff.” We asked him about the restaurant that wasn’t a restaurant. And he responded by mentioning a name he expected us to know. Apparently, there was a barn behind the spacious home. And the owner of the barn holds a barbecue, which is open to the public, during the Great American Weekend.
We took the long way home to avoid the weekend traffic. We could see why some people favor “staycations.”