Drive-by Bye.

London, ON — The darkness of night suddenly swirled in blue and red, the silence of a quiet evening shattered by sirens and high-revving engines.

Connecticut Avenue had become a police disco.

Had someone hit a cyclist? The response, within minutes, of more than a dozen police cars and fire trucks wailed of great tragedy.

Little did we know.

Behind our hotel, four men had jumped out of a carjacked Alfa Romeo and fired more than 50 rounds — including with a semi-automatic rifle — in a targeted killing that also left a bystander with significant injuries. My partner had walked past the spot 20 minutes earlier. I had been there a couple hours prior, and countless times before.

When I first started coming to Washington D.C. more than 30 years ago, it was understood you had to be careful to not cross the wrong streets or you could suddenly end up in a bad area. Having walked through much of the city since, I’ve never felt unsafe.

Row, row, row.

And, despite being the site of an assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan in 1981, the area around the Washington Hilton hardly qualifies as bad.

Violent crime and homicide have increased steadily in the district in recent years, though, reaching rates unseen in 20 years. It’s immediately obvious more people are experiencing homelessness than when I was there last. The pandemic cannot have helped.

Having spent the day driving home, we have been left reflecting on change, on life, on equity. And on a love I still have for D.C.

Vitals:

• Time: 12 hours
• Distance: 969.3 kms
• Province/States: Washington D.C., Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Ontario
  
• Weather: Sunny and mild
• Wildlife: A panic-stricken coyote, struck by a car and unable to move its legs

Angry Seize.

A storm a-piers to be brewing.

Williamsport, PA – Foaming at the mouth, the sea lashes at the shore with angry tongues.

Waves are expected to surpass 10 feet this afternoon. Even now, winds average 50 km/h, with gusts double that.

As it was only two hours from Philadelphia – and home to Dogfish Head brewery – we decided to head back to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware yesterday.

A beer, and the sea: bliss.

Pots of palm fronds have blown over, however, and the red ‘No Swimming' flag cracks a loud warning from the lifeguard station. The pole bends like an inflatable tube man outside a used car lot.

And Hurricane Dorian is only as far as North Carolina.

I love the sea and, even with the storm, feel incredibly at peace as the sand shaves my legs. I lose myself in the churn and never want to escape its grasp.

As tempting as it is to stay to watch the fringe of Dorian, though, we’ve caught the tailwind out of town, winding along the Susquehanna river, and into the sunshine.

We’ve pulled up into Williamsport, Pennsylvania – home to the Little League World Series – which is alive with music and art on the street.

And no hurricanes in sight.

Vitals:

• Time: 6.5 hours
• Distance: 441.6 kilometres
• Weather: Rain, leading into sun
• States: Delaware, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: None

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.

At what cost, liberty?

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – With all the driving I've done lately, I appreciate that public transportation will carry us out to the Mann Center for our Vampire Weekend concert tonight.

A young boy pops onto the bus, his smile wide.

His shirt reads: “Shoot basketballs, not people.”

I’m immediately reminded I’m in the United States.

Staking Claim.

High-stakes competition.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – “One wiz wit, please."

Apparently, that's the lingo for properly ordering a cheesesteak in Philly.

The please may just be a Canadianism.

The end result, loosely wrapped in wax paper, is a hot sandwich slathered in melted Cheez Whiz (rather than “provy” for provolone) and onions (as opposed to “widdout”).

Cheese and onions: the only two answers you need to know. A sign says you'll be sent to the back of the line if you get it wrong.

I'm not sure they're joking.

Having wandered out to the Liberty Bell, through the historic district and down to Penn's Landing this morning, we've made our way to the epicentre of the city’s longstanding sandwich battle. Originator Pat’s King of Steaks sits kitty-corner to its neon-clad rival, Geno’s Steaks. The two have engaged in friendly competition since the sandwich’s creation in the 1960s.

Despite several cheese options, Cheese Whiz is somehow the 10-1 favourite, with Geno’s claiming to go through 8-10 cases of the processed product daily. Nobody said the sandwich was healthy.

Not a mistake.

Not one to miss out on an origin story, I opt for Pat’s for my first legitimate Philadelphia cheesesteak. Tangy, velvety cheese (or something approximating it, I suppose) coats a mound of shaved meat and a thin layer of onions on a fresh roll. It's pretty quiet, so we're easily able to find a seat after bouncing between separate windows for the sandwich and for a beverage.

A marker commemorating where Sylvester Stallone stood while filming the movie Rocky has been punched into the pavement beside the order window.

I don’t eat much beef, but the sandwich hits the spot. I’m not sure, however, it matched the hearty smoked salmon sandwich I had this morning at the Little Spoon Café.

Getting my Phil.

Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Philadelphia, PA – The dark velour of the early morning sky frays at the seams, salmon spawning across its belly.

It’s 5:30 a.m. and the rising sun has already become lazy with fall.

We wind through New York’s hills, which have only begun to molt summer’s skin, much like the greying you question seeing at your temples as you age. Through Pennsylvania’s Endless Mountains and Poconos, however, the leaves have begun to smoulder like recently lit cigarettes amidst puff-cheeked hills.

Vampire Weekend plays on repeat, getting us ready for tomorrow night’s concert on the outskirts of Philadelphia.

Our first stop in the City of Brotherly Love, though, is for a beer and moules et frites at the legendary Monk’s Café.

It has been called one of the top-five places in the world to have a beer and, upon scanning the list, I am disinclined to argue.

Vitals:

• Time: 10 hours
• Distance: 880 kilometres
• Weather: Sun with clouds, warming as we progressed
• Province/States: Ontario, New York, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: None

The Road Less Travelled.

What came first: the chicken or racism?

London, ON – The fog hangs like a veil as we drive like an arrow through the nothingness.

Having been here before, I know tremendous beauty lies behind it; we must only move beyond this early hour.

Three baby turkeys make us slalom more than the roads’ hips as we make our way past parted-out car hoods propped against crooked trees. They have been spray-painted with slogans like “Make America Great Again” and “TRUMP!” Looking at the industries folded into many of these valleys, it’s easy to see these are areas most vulnerable to some of the current government’s policies.

I can only hang my head.

A church sign, meanwhile, says it represents “a separation between church and hate,” but it’s a message missed by too many these days. Still, it restores a modicum of hope.

Beyond the 10-hour drive home, we still need to pick up our car in downtown Toronto and return the rental to Pearson International Airport, 30 minutes away. Again, thanks, Porter.

Naturally, we have arrived in Toronto just in time to be greeted by roads clogged like pipes as traffic pours into the city for the afternoon’s Blue Jays baseball game.

So tired. So much for vacation.

Vitals:

• Time: 10 hours, five minutes
• Distance: 782.6 kms
• Weather: Foggy, breaking to sun, with intermittent sprinkles of rain
• States/Province: Pennsylvania, New York, Ontario
• Wildlife: None

Porter Fail.

Religion tends to be a little fuzzy for me.

Breezewood, PA – The peak-lined sky shimmers, translucent like vellum, layered and folded-over in Pennsylvania’s mountains, adding a depth to the panorama rising before us.

At the corners, the sky narrows in, smudging in depths of charcoal.

It’s a surreal evening on the roads.

That’s right: the roads.

After a week in D.C., we received an email alert two hours prior to our Porter Airlines flight home we had been cancelled until Monday. Yes, two-and-a-half days from now. No explanation: just cancelled. Hotels in the American capital aren’t cheap.

Looking for answers, we called the long-distance number, which doesn’t appear to work in the U.S., despite the airline servicing several American cities. Still no explanation.

Do I look angry?

We had gone for one last wander through the city – up to Embassy Row, and to Washington National Cathedral, which suffered more than $34 million in damages from a 2011 earthquake that affected the eastern seaboard – but now found ourselves on our way to Reagan National Airport to rent a car.

Our taxi driver repeatedly got lost, and twice nearly had his tires spiked trying to navigate the parking garage. I watched the clock tock toward six o’clock, thinking of the road ahead.

Meanwhile, neo-Nazis clashed with protesters two hours away, leaving a woman and two police officers dead. Get me out of this country.

We had debated driving through the night, but with the skyline’s teeth now melted into black, the winding tape before us whispering to be prudent.

Hello, unexpectedly, Pennsylvania.

Thank you for having us.

Vitals:

• Time: Two hours, six minutes.
• Distance: 200.8 kms
• Weather: Sun, rain, fog, nightfall.
• States: Washington D.C., Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: None

Burning Rubber.

Not the Golden Gate.

London, ON – Trees stood like cigars as we wound through Pennsylvania's Ricketts Glen State Park. Billowing fog imitated puffs of smoke hanging in the canyons, and the wet bark even smelled like tobacco.

Around the bend stood Smoky the Bear.

Orange detour signs dotted the landscape, pointing our (alternate) way home on what was generally an uneventful return. In this case, uneventful is a good thing.

The road is a good lover, but home is where the heart is.

Vitals:

• Time: Nine hours
• Distance: 664.3 kms
• Weather: Sun, fog, heavy rain in Niagara Falls
• States/Province: Pennsylvania, New York, Ontario
• Wildlife: None

X Marks the Spot.

"Hi, can I get your number? I'm sin-gull."

Wilkes-Barre, PA – "X marks the spot. Dig for the treasure," said the exasperated father resting on the towel next to us, hoping to placate his excited kids.

"No. There's actually no treasure," the young girl replied with a shrug and a crinkled eye. Her younger brother took off eagerly, shovel in tow.

Before long, the same shovel wreaked destruction on a large sandcastle they had built as a family. The mother's defeated sigh sounded like the lazy rattle of reeds lining the boardwalk.

Salt air breathed over my neck at Rehoboth Beach, and a pair of dolphins rollicked in the surf near the shore. Blue umbrellas flapped in the cool breeze, duelling the sun's heat. Ocean, I love thee.

We were covered in just enough sand to add a layer of grit to the car's floor mats for the drive home. The road beckoned to shorten the haul, so we grabbed one last taste of seafood at Medings Seafood and wound once more through the hills to Wilkes-Barre.

Having been foiled on Sunday, we finally got to visit Breaker Brewing Company, and were impressed by samples of beer flavoured with mango, lemongrass and tomatoes.

It was worth the second attempt.

Vitals:

• Time: Five hours
• Distance: 378.9 kms
• Weather: Mostly sunny
• States/Province: Delaware, Pennsylvania
• Wildlife: Dolphins

Dewey Lewis & The News.

Shouldn't it be 16.0 to create a Dewey Decimal?

Dewey Beach, DE – The morning was spent carving through creases hewn in the Earth, trees and rock lining a slalom course through the hills.

Against this natural backdrop, steel windmills loomed, marching like soldiers in and out of the fog.

Pennsylvania brought theme-park roads, each curve smooth and unrelenting. I played the role of whack-a-mole, popping up in my seat to peer around corners and ducking again as we dropped gears on steep descents.

Dilapidated barns – haunted fun houses – spotted the fields, bearing faded grins belying a more colourful past.

We stopped at Breaker Brewing Company in Wilkes-Barre, PA for lunch and faced a nod to the state’s puritanical history: closed on Sunday. It seems every trip has an event like this. Onward.

We arrived in Dewey Beach, Delaware unwilling to drive any longer. Before us stood a creaking wagon tugged by a van; it even had free Wi-Fi. For $5, the Jolly Trolley would take us and various other beach goers around town, eventually dropping us for dinner at the original Dogfish Head Brewpub.

Having pointed ourselves through the trees for a thousand kilometres, we had arrived at our destination at the sea. Our table was soon dressed with crab and corn chowder and fried pickles battered with Dogfish Head's 60 Minute IPA, which was paired with IPA truffle mustard. Delicious.

With the Jolly Trolly to take us home, there was, of course, also beer, including a porter brewed with 30 lobsters: Choc Lobster. Clever.

This is the good stuff.

Vitals:

• Time: 13 hours (with one hour delay for an accident)
• Distance: 1,001.2 kms
• Weather: Mostly sunny
• Province/States: Ontario, New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware
• Wildlife: Deer, Wild turkeys

Cure for What Ales You.

Tapped out: Some of the 100 beers at the Capital Ale House.

Harrisonburg, VA – With daylight still stitched into a mourning shroud, fog curled over the highway like a veil covering a crooked smile.

And then the tears began to fall.

It was appropriately sombre weather as we inched along the QEW, which had been completely shut down for a fatal accident that had torn up the pavement, left two transport trailers twisted into steel origami and claimed a pair of lives.

As frustrating as it was to sit, unmoving, for two hours before we had even left the country, it remained easy to be grateful. Things could be a lot worse – our journey would continue.

Through Pennsylvania, fog clung to the base of trees in a slow dance, and the hills offered more rain.

While we had intended to finish our day in Richmond, VA, the morning’s two-hour delay had left us short. Instead, we arrived in Harrisonburg, which is home to James Madison University and a quaint historic district where vintage signs adorn the facades.

Amazingly for us, it is also home to the Capital Ale House, and its 100 taps of craft beer. (According to Beer Advocate, this is apparently a top-10 place to have a beer in America.) Mind, effectively blown.

A couple nice selections, later – paired with fried cheese curds and ancho chilli aioli, and a burger topped with a halved bratwurst – and the day had ended on a high note.

Happenstance, indeed.

Vitals:

• Time: 13.5 hours
• Distance: 905.5 kms
• Weather: Rain, fog, giving way to sun
• States/Provinces: Ontario, New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Virginia
• Wildlife: None

Volant to Virginia.

Glen Allen, Virginia – Between brick homes with more history than my country, cicadas shrill like car alarms. The air is heavy, but breaks at dusk. Richmond, Virginia carries itself with an understated charm: a tall marble and brass statue of (Southern) civil war hero, General Robert E. Lee, looms over a central roundabout and the streets are lined by mature trees and magnificent colonial homes. Incongruously, a significant number are boarded up. Virginia Commonwealth University’s buildings branch out into the community’s narrow, streets and past a disproportionate number of tattoo shops.

It was a nice evening for a drive, particularly as the sun set across a vast sky, wispy and coloured like cotton candy.

We arrived in Virginia after 688 kilometres of driving through Pennsylvania’s gorgeous rolling hills, a brief jaunt into Maryland and a slow crawl through Washington D.C.’s traffic. Here, a crab cake sandwich awaited.

Earlier in the day, we visited the community of Volant, PA, which purports to be an Amish community, but really seemed only to be an attempt at commodifying the ‘other’ (how many true Amish products contain xanthan gum?). It was quaint, but seemingly manufactured, with kitschy crafts and manicured window boxes.

Under the Shoulders of Giants.

Meadville, PA - From London to Woodstock, tall shoulders of darkened clouds loomed menacingly in front of us, backlit by short, staccato flashes. But the sky shrugged as we turned south toward bluer horizons.

Headed to the Outer Banks in North Carolina - and possibly as far as Charleston, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia - we took to the road this afternoon and put 427 kilometres under our tires, to just north of Pittsburgh.

Neglecting to check that the GPS was set for “fastest route,” rather than “shortest route,” Hamilton became our foil as we negotiated construction and the madness of Steeltown’s streets. Not the prettiest way to begin a journey.

Farther along, a series of rainbows arced over the trees that lined upstate New York’s rolling roads – prisms set against the charcoal-smudged canvas above. On the I90, the best sign of the day advertised “Fireworks and Karate Supplies.” Only in America.

Not until the last half hour did the rain catch us as fog seeped from the forests and a pink smear descended in the sky. At that, the tires stopped spinning for the day.