Driving to New Hampshire

Here’s the thing. No matter how many times I’ve driven to New Hampshire—summer or winter, it makes no matter—I have no sense of where I am.

Why is that?

I don’t have that problem anywhere else in New England. Not in Vermont, Connecticut, Rhode Island or ever Maine, which is vast and, in some places, virtually unexplored.

And, I drive to New England a lot. Including New Hampshire. To ski mostly. But, in summer, I find myself up here to hike, play golf, or do the myriad other activities offered by the mountains the coast, and the resorts.

So, how come I never have a sense of knowing where I am?

Take yesterday, for instance. I drove to Waterville Valley. No traffic to speak of, excellent driving weather. I chose a route through Hartford, then north on I-91 through Springfield, Mass., and up to White River Junction, Vt.

Fine to that point.

Then it was east on a series of numbered roads til I was supposed to reach I-93, on which I was to travel two exits north.

I did all that. But, by the time I reached I-93, I had no confidence that I was in the right place or driving in the correct direction. I was traveling on faith.

Sure, I got here in the end. Still, what is it about New Hampshire that engenders this state of confusion? Forget “Live Free & Die”; for me, it’s “Live Free & Feel Lost.”

— Mitch Kaplan