I've waited too long for this but let's see if I can recall my drive home the morning after the Preakness. Left the Hunt Valley Marriott at 8a without a cup of coffee and headed 15 miles to Pimlico to visit Chip Woolley. I spend about 45 minutes trolling the barn area, chatting with Chip about the Belmont Stakes in three weeks and how he was just thrilled with the way his horse Mine That Bird performed in nearly catching Rachel Alexandra in the stretch the day before. Still, no coffee. After trainer Larry Jones tells me Friesan Fire seems like he'd rather be in the breeding shed than on the racetrack, it's time to leave. We, my wife is with me, jump into the car and head out on the highway. OK, I say, we're off to a late start, let's get onto 95 (heading to New York) and we can pull over at some exit. No worries. Lots of McDonald's to grab a cup of coffee and a greasy mc-something. Sign appears. We pull off. No Mickey D's! Trees. Cows. Big trucks. Back to 95. Next exit. Another McDonald's sign. No worries, this one will be right off the exit. Wrong! More trees. A damn cow. Back to 95. Up ahead, the jackpot, Chesapeake House, with a genuine Starbucks just up ahead. We'll wait. We know it's a big place, but I need coffee. Did I say it's now 10 am something and no coffee? Pull off. Park about a quarter mile away from the steps to the joint. Walk around a few corners. Walk over to Starbucks to get in line, and, I am absolutely not kidding you, a woman walks over to us and says --- and I am not making this up: ``We don't have any hot coffee today.'' And walks away. It's like the Cheese Shop bit from Monty Python. You have any gouda? No. Any swiss? No. etc., But it's very clean! Not this place. Too funny, right? True. We walk away dumbfounded ... As we leave, about 150,000 people speaking what sounds like Japanese are pouring into the place. Not one word of English is heard as we make our way past men, women and many children, who sure sound like they need food _ and now! All I want is coffee.
We make it outside, and as we're walking down the steps into the parking lot to leave, abdout 200 very large black women in hats are headed to the steps. A church group is coming to breakfast at the Chesapeake House? No way! We did not stay to find out. We hop in the car and I put on my Jay and the Americans CD --- ``Only in America.'' Perfect. We pull out, laughing. Did I mention I still haven't had a cup of coffee?
Onward. This will happen. Another exit with a McDonald's. By now, we're in North East, Md. --- we know this as the home of Michael Dickinson, the trainer of Da Hoss and Tapit who invented his own synthetic racing surface. I remember the exit from my visit to Michael's farm a few years ago. We pull off. Turn right. Trees. Cows. But we keep going, about 4 miles down the road and we come to a mall. Dunkin Donuts. Spectacular. Coffee is mine. And it is, along with a super greasy croissant stuffed with sausage and egg ... Mmmmmmmmmmm. I want a donut but resist. We're leaving now and my wife is driving. I need to get on my computer ... I am focused on a story I need to write. We're headed toward the Delaware Memorial Bridge and on into Jersey and then Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens and finally Nassau County. Piece of cake. Done it a million times. My wife calls my name. I say I am concentraing on the story. Can't talk now. A few minutes later, she calls my name again. I am not talking to you I say. A few minutes later, same thing. Finally after about 25 minutes I look up and see an exit for Veterans Stadium (or whatever the new stadium is in Philly). What the hell are you doing? You went the wrong way! Now my wife is panic-stricken. I mean it. She is on an elevated roadway and bridge and her hands are glued to the steering wheel, in the middle lane, and driving now at about 20 mph. On 95!!!!! Talk to me she says. I hate bridges! OK. I love you. I love our son, our daughter -- hey, pull over I'll drive --- keep talking to me she says. We'll get home have a drink, it's a beautiful day, we'll go to the beach. No good. she makes it to the exit. I drive. She's frozen with fright. Back to the highway. Woo hoo. Turn around and head to the Jersey Turnpike. What time is it now? Who cares? noon? It's only a 3 plus hour drive! Now we're on the Turnpike and making up time. LOL. Oops. Almost out of gas. Pull into a station - Sunoco - and gas is $2.13 a gallon. Hooray for us! We get in line and we're the third car. However, there's an empty lane next to us that says extra long hose so I pull over to the tank becasue no one else has this figured out. The long hose will reach all the way to the driver's side where my gas tank is. However, the car that was behind me in the other lane I pulled out of is getting gas and I'm still waiting. Now I'm cranky and irritable. I put the car in drive, pull out and scream `F U' ... I'll show you! You'll pay! I'm leaving and I hope I run out of gas! Then you'll be really sorry. There, I tell my wife, I told those bastards! ... Now I'm happy because I let those gas people have it good, didn't I? Now, we're running on empty, but we make it to the next gas station, and fill er up. And incredibly, the rest of the trip home is smooth, as I recall. Then, I figure if Mine That Bird can go from last to first along the rail to win the Derby, then go from last to nearly first in the Preakness despite getting knocked around on the far turn, my trip was worth it all. I got to see a great filly beat a really, really gutty gelding in a sensational race. And I had a cup of coffee the day after, too.
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