The Henry Hudson Parkway proved my undoing as I attempted the unthinkable. It was something that will get a parkway, a river and a cute Columbia County village named after you. Something crazy. For Sir Henrik, that something was spending months at sea looking for a western passage to the Orient.
For me, cue Tower of Power, it was driving to work. Boom.
It is about 60 miles from my house to the office in New York. Google tells me it should take (without traffic – oh, Google) one hour and thirteen minutes and 1:22 with traffic. Google is a liar.
The first part – down the Palisades – was a breeze; as was getting over the GWB amazingly. But, my luck ran out as I wound down to the Henry Hudson. Traffic came to stop. Pot hole repair crews were on the scene and we slowly crept down the west side of Manhattan. An hour after I paid my $12 to cross the bridge the journey to Chelsea was complete.
I got to do it all over again going home. I mean, after the old $46 dollar shot to the family jewels at the parking garage.
Grand total (cue the horns): Two stressful, traffic-filled hours each way. No beer on the train or reading a magazine or blogging. It was just unhappy people stuck in traffic on poorly designed parkways. I mean, the Saw Mill still has traffic lights in Yonkers. Come on.
Plus, $75 worth tolls, gas and parking.
I won’t do it again, unless I have to. Unlike Henry Hudson, what I discovered was nothing new. I don’t like to drive.