h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

"Yesterday didn't go too badly," I said to Scribbles as we waited in front of our hotel for the next form of transportation that would whisk us to New York City. The "doctor" had just given me a cane, as well as some sugar pills that were supposed to be pain killers for my "injured" foot.

Earlier that morning I had had a confidential talk with Scribbles. "I feel bad about deceiving millions of people with an ersatz injury," I had told him.

"Anyone can suffer an injury without warning," he had replied. "It's only then that they realize how hard it is to negotiate steps or find a parking space near their favorite stores when their mobility is compromised. You're performing a valuable public service. Who needs ramps and handicapped parking spots? Everyone at some time or another."

I was hoping that today's transportation would be a Mercedes. My jaw (and hopes) dropped when a motorcycle pulled up in front of us.

"You've got to be kidding!" I griped.

"Where's the stiff upper lip in the face of adversity now?" Scribbles chided. "Millions of Americans adore motorcycles. They will applaud as you pass them en route to the Big Apple. The New Jersey Turnpike has to be seen to be believed."

"But...but...but it snowed last night. The roads will be bad."

"Boston got eight inches, New York much less, and the rain-snow line was in Newark. You'll be in a sidecar, with someone experienced driving the bike. You can close your eyes all the way if you wish. I'll be in the car behind you." .

Just then a Mercedes pulled up; "That's mine," Scribbles said, getting in.

I won't pretend that I enjoyed that day's ride. Let's just say that I closed my eyes whenever some big, scary vehicle got too close. We had lunch at a diner near Wilmington, Delaware. The menu had some ho-hum dishes like chipped beef and pea soup, but I decided to try Philadelphia Scrapple, while Scribbles went for the Chesapeake Bay Crab cakes. I tried mixing the two, which didn't go over well with some of the other diners.

Somewhere around 4:00 o'clock, the Manhattan skyline loomed ahead of us, but the traffic was backed up enough that we didn't get to our hotel in Hell's Kitchen until after 6:00.

I had the time of my life when my best friend's father drove me home in the side car of his old motorcycle. I was sitting just inches above the tarmac as we were speeding along.

And this guy was very old! He was born in 1895 - 24 years older than my father. Who wouldn't go near a motorcycle! It all added to the experience of a 13 old boy, of course

[Amy P]

The only time I have ever seen a side car is on television in the 70's comedies, One the Buses and George and Mildred. I have never seen them used in real life.

I've seen them a few times. The thing is, Pell would not have gone near a motorcycle otherwise.