The problem with East coast big cities is that their roads and bridges were built a long time ago when there was no such thing as "high profile" vehicles. So as I'm driving toward JFK my eyes are peeled to all those yellow, maximum height signs that everyone (including me) normally ignore. On this day though I'm travelling slowly, cautiously scanning every possible point of trouble approaching. So when I see a major freeway type road that says, "passenger cars only" I wisely decided not to take the ramp. However, in my head I'm thinking, "actually I am a 'passenger vehicle' and it doesn't say there is a maximum height limit..." but I think, "better safe then sorry." So I continue on now going the not so right way. Of course, our Garmin navigation system we've named Lola (taken from the Robin William's movie "RV") doesn't really care that we are over 12' high, thanks to our TrackVision "low profile" satelitte dish on our roof. Lola just continues so spout out her favorite, annoying word, "RECALCULATING!" That word really pisses me off at times. However, I have chosen for Lola a soft spoken female, English voice that helps keep me calm in the sometimes tense, "RECALCULATING" situations. Anyway as I'm trying to navigate toward JFK, doing a good job, Lola tells me to "turn right." It is again one of these big parkway/freeway, 3-4 lane wide in each direction, no trouble, looking roads. There is a sign that says, "no commercial vehicles." So once again it is decision time... well, I take a right and enter this freeway, feeling pretty good, cause all looks a-okay. Down this freeway Lola then wants me to take another looping offramp that goes from one of these parkway/freeways on ground level to one that goes sublevel. As I proceed around this turning onramp I come face to face with one of these old arch underpasses, built a lonnnggg tiiimme ago! It all happens so fast but when I see a huge, yellow, triangular, warning sign that says, "11' 6" insinctively it puts me into an immediate... what's the word... "manuever!" I "hard right" the rig through a rough, muddy, New York City pothole to somewhat of a shoulder "almost" off the road... then just stare at the 11' 6" sign remembering that 12' is also 11' 12" which still doesn't compute the way I want it to. I'm thinking to myself... "I'm screwed!" I can't back up, can't turn around. Lots went through my head in a short period of time. After considering the options... I concluded there were no good ones. I remembered the saying on the sides of police car doors, "To Protect and Serve." Well with my one call I chose the NYPD to "serve" me in my right out of this mess. After all, it was their insufficient warning signs that got me into this predicament. As I waited, a long time, for help I was noticing NY City buses making it under. Yeah, they might be "a little shorter" than me but they had a few inches to spare. Plus it is an arch bridge so if I stay in the middle of the three lanes I get an extra couple critical inches in my favor. Unfortunately, I could see another bridge past the one directly in from of me. The 2nd one looked like it said, "11' 3!" Bummer. Well the NYPD arrived, we discussed the options and determined we ( I ) only had one option -->> stop traffic with a police escort (light and all) and "forward ho" slowly and listen for my antenna to scape. ......MADE IT! I then turned off Lola and took only ground level, surface streets for my new route to a WM near JFK. Then unhooked our safe "little" car and jammed over to the airport. The whole experience was enough for me to pull all my hair out ;-) Oh wait, I DON'T HAVE ANY HAIR ANYMORE!
YEAH! Hugs and kisses for Mommy. We're all so glad to have her back!
