Traveling....

Remember the rock which was thrown up from the road service and chipped my "daily driver's" side window a few weeks ago?  When we were driving the antique on tour activities, its driver's side window took a stone hit...very loud.  Perhaps the fact that we weren't moving at interstate highway speeds helped.  Fortunately the window was up, and the stone did no damage (other than perhaps to our nerves.)

We've now proved that 'lightning truly DOES strike the same place twice.'  That's why we continue to run the air conditioner...even at the risk of the old V-8 using a bit more gasoline than it normally would.

While traveling through Western Pennsylvania, along the old National Road through the mountains, we encountered a place called Nemacolin Woodlands Resort.   It really does look inviting...and you may be pleased to know that you can arrive on your private plane...the place has its own airport!

 


From the resort's website (slightly edited for brevity), a little info about the place.  Note: if you're not a part of that "famous or infamous" 1%, you may want to skip these next few excerpts - you'll be as envious as we were.  But it's definitely not your typical Motel 6 or Super 8:

Situated on 2,000 acres, Nemacolin Woodlands Resort, located in the Laurel Highlands of Southwestern Pennsylvania, features 318 luxurious guestrooms, suites, Townhouses and Private Homes, including the Falling Rock boutique hotel, a recipient of the Forbes Five-Star and AAA Five-Diamond awards.

In addition to the internationally acclaimed Woodlands Spa,  the resort offers 36-holes of championship golf on two courses - the Pete Dye designed Mystic Rock, and the traditional Links Course. For shooting, visit the Nemacolin Field Club, featuring the Shooting Academy, an outdoors sporting facility on 140 acres complete with 30-stations, wing shooting, a spacious lodge and Orvis® Endorsed Fly Fishing.

For a more rugged and adventurous experience, try the Adventure Center.  Spend the afternoon or day at our Wildlife Academy, home of the Equestrian Center, animal nursery, animal habitats and educational programs. Black bears, zebra, buffalo, tigers and hyenas are just some of over 100 animals that currently call Nemacolin home.

As the seasons change, our ski facilities at Mystic Mountain offer both downhill and cross-country skiing enthusiasts, snowboarders and snow tubers a variety of snowsports. For a different winter experience, enjoy snowshoeing or dog sledding on the property’s winter trails.

Nemacolin also boasts an impressive collection of restaurants and lounges, including the Forbes Five-Star and AAA Five-Diamond Lautrec.  Enjoy daily art tours of the multi-million dollar Hardy Family Art Colllection valued at $45 Million or enjoy a leisurely tour at your own pace as the Collection graces nearly all aspects of the property.

For those guests arriving by air, our on-property private airfield with 3,900-foot airstrip is available.

All for a rate (as quoted on the website recently) starting at $468 a night.   Wow, such a bargain!   Perfect for the expense-account set.  We drove in, and all around the property, then right back out again.   But it surely looks like a wonderful place to stay.  Maybe someday, when my ship comes in...and I'm at the right dock!

More later...

Mandy

Oh, my...

Sorry about the delay in posting.  We've been out and about again, this time touring with a group of antique car owners and their cars in Ohio.  This tour had quite a number of folks we didn't know.   And my wife and I met some of them, who undoubtedly weren't sure of my gender.

After meeting and talking to me/us, I thought they'd be confident that we were a traditional couple under our clothes.  However, a number of women were friendly with me, seemingly chattering to me  much more than they typically would with a guy.  And an as-yet-upcoming (but still unbeknownst to me) event would cast doubt on that "traditional couple" statement...more in a later post.  (I didn't have time to write at all during our absence...)

Early in the week, our group entered into a museum in Ohio.  My wife and I were addressed as "ladies" by the greeter when we went in, but we had already our tickets.  After  alerting the ticket clerk to our presence and showing our tickets, my wife went into the gift shop while I waited for her by the ticket desk.

Then management decided to give everyone little stickers to show we paid....

The girl gave me mine, but asked sincerely "Did your partner go into the gift shop?"  Wow, that's a first - my wife being seen as my "partner!"  I looked into the gift shop window and saw that she was heading my way, so I was honestly able to say "She'll be here in a minute" without making any specific comment about her gender.    But it's a good thing she didn't hear that exchange, as she has mentioned to me a couple times in the past that she isn't a lesbian.

The following day, we were "ladies' a half dozen times, and only once was I addressed as male - even though I wasn't trying to "pass" on this trip.   My attire was typically casual - jean capris or women's shorts, men's polo shirts with logo, and fisherman sandals, with Mom's necklace, my long hair and nails, shaved legs, and purse.  No makeup or lipstick.   (Could I have adopted feminine ways that show, no matter what clothes I wear????)

This kind of fun (though I'm not sure my better half would describe it as such) kept on happening, but that's for another post.

Enroute, we detoured to a Maryland town with an unusual name.   Accident.  That's right, no joke.  It's Accident, Maryland, out in Garrett County, our far westernmost (and highest elevation) county.  How did it end up with such an unusual moniker?   Sort of by "accident?" (Sorry about the pun...)

In their Wordpress blog "I think it'll be fine" a blogger quotes:   "In her book Flowery Vale, local teacher Mary Miller Strauss describes a different potential history of the naming."

In 1774, Lord Baltimore, Proprietor of the Maryland Colony, opened his lands “westward of Fort Cumberland” for settlement.  Among the speculators who hastened to western Maryland with their surveyors to secure choice tracts of land were Brooke Beall and William Deakins, Jr., both of Prince George’s County.

William Deakins and his brother Francis had warrants for several tracts, and on April 14, 1774, they surveyed a fine tract of 682 acres between the branches of Bear Creek, including an old Indian camp ground on the trail to Braddock’s Road.  But when the survey was completed, Brooke Beall and his party appeared on the scene and Beall claimed that he had selected the same tract for his survey, calling attention to his axe marks on the trees to prove his claim.  Deakins replied that it appeared that they had selected the same land “by accident”.  Since he and Beall were friends and land was abundant, [Deakins] proposed that Beall take over his survey already made.  To this Beall agreed.    John Hanson, Jr., Deputy County Surveyor, made out the survey to Beall, and they named the tract Accident.

The blogger also points out other theories, and unfortunately, due to the passage of time, nobody will ever know for sure.  But it's fun to speculate!  And meanwhile, the name lives on.  Very nice little town...

A couple of pictures to prove Accident actually exists:

That's all for now...

Mandy

PS:  Allegedly the residents of Accident are know as Accidentals....(maybe TMI???)

Another Party...

Over the holiday weekend, we attended an afternoon party in the neighborhood.  That morning, I had put on a women's polo top and shorts, with bare legs and ballet flats, and wore that to visit my mother, and until just before the party.

Came time to get dressed, and my wife put on her pretty blue dress (one I'd truly love to wear if it would fit - but don't think it would, and anyway she wouldn't let me wear it.)   She looked at me, saying "Those casual shorts will never do...put on your white capris, so you'll look dressy and attractive."  It was a big surprise, but I'll never argue!  So I did.  And off to the party we went...

Turns out that we were standing in line for food, behind two elderly grandparents with their two grandkids, a 4 year old girl and a 5 year old boy.  I was wearing my dark sunglasses, and by moving my eyes, not my head, I could easily follow their eyes, from looking at my long-haired head all the way past my necklace and women's blouse, my long-nailed fingers, my capris on bare legs, all the way down to the ballet flats on my feet.  I wonder what questions the grandparents got asked that night after the party was over?

We ended up sitting with a nice couple when we ate our meal...  It was the first time we've met them, they're longer-time residents than we are, and it took this long to run into them! No issues at all...

Some of you may remember from an earlier post that I regularly wear a necklace which used to be my mother's, and that a lady from the neighborhood inquired about it some time ago...   Guess who was at the party?   And she was just as complimentary about it this time, as she has been in the past...including the touchy-feely part about handling it. Wow.  And I'm not even sure she knows my true gender...I was once again wearing my name tag with my now-female first name on it.  (And there is a female in the neighborhood with that same first name...)

Next week is going to be a busy one, thus for now,  I'll leave you with this bit of ferroequinology:

B&O's Carrollton Viaduct, Baltimore, MD

Per Wikipedia, the Carrollton Viaduct, located over Gwynn’s falls,  near Carroll Park in Baltimore, MD, is the first stone masonry bridge built for railroad use in the United States.  And it is still in daily use, carrying heavier loads than in years past.   It was named after Charles Carroll of Carrolton, the last living signer of the Declaration of Independence and a director of the B&O Railroad, who laid the cornerstone on July 4, 1828.






This picture was taken about 10 years ago, and the scene is timeless, it hasn't changed much...

The Rock, and a Weekend Birthday Celebration

My wife's birthday came last month,  and she preferred to wait for the weekend to go out to dinner so we could do some sightseeing as well.  This was fine with me...I enjoy sightseeing, even if just in androgynous mode!   She had heard of a nice restaurant in Chesapeake City, and I wanted to check out the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal (its history "museum" is in that city.)  So we decided that Sunday would be the day.

First, a word of caution from an incident we experienced in our car enroute north that day (and it has absolutely nothing to do with gender).   The day was hot, and (fortunately) we had chosen to run our car's air conditioning.  As a dually pickup truck passed us on the highway, its rear tires kicked up a loose rock or chunk of concrete, and sent it our way.  (Visibility was good, and there were no humans on the shoulders, nor any overpasses for kids to drop things from.)   While airborne, this projectile hit the driver's side mirror and cleanly glanced off, then hit the driver's side window with enough force to put two small chips in the glass, before bouncing clear of the car without inflicting further damage.   Had the driver's window been down,  based on the rock's trajectory and 2 points of impact, I'd probably have been hit either in the left eye or on the left forehead.  That's because I noticed something moving in my peripheral vision, and looked left, just in time to see the projectile bounce off the window.

Moral of story: from here on, I'll ALWAYS be operating our AC in weather warm enough to require reducing the interior temperature - yes, even in the antique (its 47-year-old air conditioning still works very well.)  This incident may well have been a one-chance-in-a-million thing, but it could have ruined our day, or much worse.  "Lightning has been known to strike the same place twice", and I'm not planning on taking any chances.  

Chesapeake City is a quaint little burg...with lots of nice shops and restaurants.  If you haven't been there, you might want to consider adding it to your bucket list.  We arrived at about 11:30, parked the car in town, and walked around one of the dock areas.

Then we wandered through town, looking at the fascinating architecture...

Afterward, seeing the constant stream of inbound traffic rapidly filling all available parking,  we chose to head for the closest restaurant we could find, right on the waterfront.  It was a well-furnished older house, with a large, glass-enclosed porch.  For the record, I was wearing my white capris, women's black button-down tunic, pantyhose and black ballet flats, with my black purse and Mom's necklace.  No other jewelry.  No makeup (though my shave was very fresh - no more than 2-1/2 hours old at that point.) The receptionist addressed us as "ladies." and we were given the choice of eating inside, or on the enclosed porch.  We chose the porch, so we were escorted through the inside dining room out to the porch, and assigned a prime corner seat.

Our server, and the other employees, addressed us as "ladies" for our whole visit.  They never missed a beat.  When it came time to leave, I waited on the front porch while my wife used the restroom.  One of the young female employees, who was taking a break, was outside as well.  We chatted a bit (yes, it was quiet enough that I was able to talk in my feminine voice) and she addressed me as "Ma'am."   When my wife reappeared after finishing her "potty break" the employee said "come back and see us again, ladies!"

OK...so this could have been freshly trained servers, being extremely "politically correct"...

We got directions to the canal museum from one of the girls, and though she told us that it was within "walking distance,"  because of the heat we chose to drive.  When we backed out of our parking place, we made an inbound family very happy to find one so "close-in"!

Our decision to drive to the museum was a good one.   While it was indeed within walking distance, it would have been quite a hike, particularly in hot weather.  The museum was right on the canal, and we were immediately treated to the sight of a big barge being towed past, from the Delaware River to the Chesapeake Bay (the man-made canal is what "separates" the Delmarva from the mainland. making it appear to be an island.  But it's not.)

We walked into the museum, which was the old pump-house for the canal when it had locks for moving the ships (from opening in 1829 until they were rendered obsolete and removed in the 1927 improvement project.)  It's now a 14-mile-long, sea-level canal, one of two within the US (the other being the 7-mile Cape Cod Canal, completed in 1916.)  Within the museum was the water wheel and also steam engines which powered it, to supply the mid-section of the canal with water. back in the days of the locks.  Improvement projects of the 1970's increased the depth from 27 ft to 35 ft, and the width from 400 ft to 450 ft.  It's big. 

The attendant addressed us as "ladies,"  several times during our visit.  Perhaps this wasn't political correctness at its extreme, after all?   I certainly didn't notice any other patrons (at either establishment) paying undue attention to me.  And had my wife noticed any strange comments, I'm quite certain that she would have pointed out her "embarrassment factor."  But nothing was said.   Which was definitely a good thing.

So it was another successful sightseeing venture...and my wife enjoyed her birthday celebration. 

Later,

Mandy

More touring, and Abraham Lincoln

Another detour on the way home from that celebration: I hiked into the woods to see the restored C&O canal tunnel near Paw Paw, which let the canal have access to the east, without a portage over the mountain.  (Hiking - even on gravel - kinda made a mess of my ballet flats, but they eventually cleaned up OK.)   The tunnel was hand-dug in the mid 1800's, and the roof reportedly contains over one million bricks.  But delays in completion let the railroad get a foothold on transportation in the area, and the canal itself eventually failed.  Select remains of the canal have been preserved and it is now part of a hiking train being developed from Pittsburgh to the east.  I hiked into the stygian blackness, intending to go view the other portal - 3,118 feet away.  But soon (about 500' into it), I decided that even with camera and flashlight, enough was enough...

The tunnel...

Yet another part of the canal system was on my agenda...the Town Creek aqueduct.

Canal boats used to float down stream over the bridge, while the creek flowed underneath.   Water being moved over water.  There are several such aqueducts on the canal.

My final detour on the way home was back to Berkeley Springs, WV.   We've visited town before, however, this time I had a specific objective - to find the old castle.   It's been there for a long time, built by a rich resident "back in the day."  Until recently, I wasn't aware of it.    Quite a beautiful place...but located on a busy state highway, with no good public place to pull off for pictures.  So, the next best thing was to park at the bottom of the hill in the Springs, and hike up the hillside path (including a substantial set of old stone steps) to the road - and get pictures of the  castle from afar - because the gate was locked.

Yours truly is really not into hiking  (particularly uphill), but the effort was worth it...as you can see.   And standing by the side of the road, with traffic whizzing by at 55 mph just a few inches away on the state road,  it was tough to concentrate on taking picture(s).   At least nobody honked their horn at me...LOL!

Nice little digs...but I wouldn't want to pay the heating bill...

As part of a local celebration in Berkeley Springs, they even resurrected Abraham Lincoln from the grave...

Best of all, the traffic on the bay bridge was normal that day, with no delay!

Mandy...

Busy...

Recently,  I was away from home on what might be called a "boys' weekend out."  Though there were actually some women attending with their husbands.   One of our friends from out of town had his 50th birthday, and as a celebration for his friends, he arranged a special get-together at a local railroad, something I was looking forward to attending.  And my wife, who was enjoying finally being back home after her long visit with her sister, was the one who generously suggested that I go alone.

The celebration involved a lot of being outside in the sun and the heat...mid to upper 80's and low 90's.  As Marian can attest, such temperatures are enough to cause lots of problems.   For me, the major one as a boy, was/is perspiration, which can tend to make my long hair get stringy and ultimately, unmanageable in hot weather.

Enter the ponytail, and the use of a number of bobby pins to hold loose short fringes of my hair down comfortably.  (This is the same technology used by my wife at our son's wedding a while back.)  Reluctantly, I styled it that same way, and put on my masculine persona - denim (women's) jeans and polo shirt, with loafer flats or when needed, ankle boots, great for walking on ballast without twisting an ankle.  Admittedly that outfit was not the ultimate in hot weather comfort - a skirt and tank top would have been much better.  But jeans were appropriate for the festivities.

Not surprisingly - the difference in my appearance was substantial.

Everything I wore was "women's clothing."  I was carrying a purse, and wearing long nails and a higher ponytail than typical for a man.  Yet, not once was I addressed as "Ma'am."  Everywhere I went all weekend while so coiffed (and with absolutely no makeup), everyone who didn't know me  identified and addressed me as "Sir."

Once my hair gets damp while in a ponytail (about an hour in the heat is all it takes) I'm stuck with it that way till it's washed...   So, being in "boy mode" in the morning heat, meant staying that way all day. (Ugh.)

It was a surreal experience, and I almost felt as though I was being "mis-gendered" -  being addressed as female has been so frequent.  Even the name on my credit card was of no assistance for this weekend...   But around these men (and their wives, some of whom have known both my wife and I for years),  being Mandy just wasn't an option.  Thus, I had to deal with it.

And yes, I had a good time, in spite of being stuck in boy mode...including some sightseeing en-route to/from the venue (which on the way home after checking out of the hotel, made girl-mode possible once again - though with shorts instead of a skirt.)

I made a sightseeing stop at Paw Paw, WV - the location where the B&O's double-tracked, original water-level line along the Potomac was removed years ago.  The right-of-way was fully cleared of any hints as to railroad history (it was "scorched earth"- not even foundations were visible), and is now used as public access to reach remote riverside campsites and isolated properties on the line.

A friend and I had driven the entire low line in a 4WD many years ago, and my wife and I had visited Paw Paw previously, but we didn't venture down the right-of-way.   This time, I did, but not very far.  In the short distance I traveled, (probably not much more than a half mile to the first turnout), given the size of "car-eating" water-filled craters along the way, it was obvious that the road needed some grading.  While 4WD wasn't really required, a heavier suspension would have been good.  I stopped for the obligatory picture, and turned the car around...

It's hard to imagine that the B&O's blue-and-gray passenger trains used to run through these sylvan glades....

More to come...

Mandy

If "things" could talk...the Sixties again?

Anyone remember these? 

I do...from the 1960's and '70's...love-ins, teach-in's, protest songs, beach music, with many folks experiencing  summers of fun living at the Pacific Ocean in these vehicles.  No, I didn't own one, and never rode (or lived) in one.  But they were everywhere in the Bay Area, where I lived at the time.  (And contrary to popular belief, that's not where my long hair started...)

Some of these had their back window removed, to make it easier for surfer boys and girls to stow their boards.  This one is on the Delmarva in Maryland, and still has its back window.  But no license plates, so I wonder where it came from?  Who drove it?  Where has it been all these years?  What sights has it seen?

Might even be fun to drive one of these as as an antique...lol!

Speaking of antique cars...today I stopped in at the auto parts store to get some wax and motor oil for mine.  When I arrived (dressed in my women's white tank top, tan 3" inseam shorts,  freshly epilated legs with new sandals, and my purse - plus pink toenails and shiny long fingernails), a fiftysomething guy pulled up in a really pretty Dodge Dart GT, 1969 I think (sorry, not so much into Mopars).

My comment to him: "Really pretty Mopar you have there."  He mumbled something back at me from about 20 feet away, but I'm not at all sure what it was that he said.  For all I know, it could have been "What the h*** do women know about antique cars anyway?"  OK, so no conversation were going to be forthcoming with this guy...  He let me go through the door first, then walked into the store behind me, stood at the door for a minute, looked in his wallet for something.  And then he left...as abruptly as he entered.  His car was obviously the most personable part of THAT family...

I found the wax I needed, but had to summon help to find a quart of conventional organic Pennzoil  for my antique.  The back story on that: seven or eight years ago, a quick-lube place (yes, you'd probably recognize the name) slipped synthetic in my antique unbenownst to me (grabbed the wrong hose when filling it, but later denied it and hadn't charged me extra for it).   Shortly thereafter, a spaghetti strainer would have held almost as much oil as my engine.  I was advised that a lawsuit would most likely had unsatisfactory results, particularly with no paperwork to prove they actually did anything wrong.  Their probable defense would have been - "it's a leaky 40-year-old clunker, and they're trying to pin their problems on us.")  Stop-leak, regular oil changes, and several "engine washings" finally eliminated the leaks, and their visible evidence.  And it's been dry ever since.  But never again will I risk getting synthetic oil into that 130K mile un-rebuilt engine...I even carry my own spare oil in case it's needed on a long tour...not every convenience store gas station stocks old fashioned oil. (Been there, seen that issue.)

In my opinion, with an antique car, the key is:  "know thy repair shop well" and only have them do oil changes.    Using quick-lube places is not worth it.  They often have novices working there, which increases the risk of "accidentally" ending up with the wrong oil, and subsequent leaks.  BTW, my new cars began their life on blended synthetic, and they're perfectly happy using it.   No leaks, no issues.  Thus, my opinion ONLY applies to un-rebuilt, high-mileage antique engines.

Segue back to the present: the clerk at the parts store omitted gender-specific forms of address for me.  Well, at least until he saw my name on the credit card.  Then it was "Is there anything else I can do for you, Ma'am?" "Thank you for shopping at XXX, Ma'am."  And, "Come see us again, Ma'am."

Thanks Mom and Dad!!!  Their "foresight" undoubtedly made this possible.  Though somehow, I can't believe they ever envisioned that their transgender child would be recognized as a woman in her daily life...using that name.  I'm sure that's not quite what they intended!   But I'm certainly not complaining...