We have been in Maine almost three months and I feel the need to redux this posting from about this time last year. I love Maine, but cannot fathom the local sport of tailgating.
“The way life
should be” . . . that is what the welcome signs say when you enter the
State of Maine. I have always agreed with this sentiment; it is the
reason we have been coming back here regularly for the past quarter of a
century, and Maine has been our default summer residence since 2010. I
like it here! And why not? The people are friendly, even to those of
us “from away.” The pace of life is good.
With the exception of
the Maine Turnpike (Interstate 95) from the New Hampshire border to
Portland (a distance of roughly 50 miles), or the mostly two-lane US
Route One running along the entire coast of Maine, there is very little
traffic on the roads and nobody seems to be in a terrible hurry to get
wherever they are going. Coming from the environs of a Type A city like
Washington, DC, this is a noticeable and welcome respite from the hurry
up and wait traffic clogging its streets.
That said, what is
with this local obsession with tailgating . . . driving so close to the
rear end of a vehicle that the driver of said vehicle cannot see the
bumper, sometimes even the headlights of the tailgater? What’s the big
rush? Where’s the fire? Slow down and back off and enjoy the way life
ought to be before it ends prematurely for both of us.
Check out the "Looking Toward Portugal" Facebook page for more information and photos.
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