In a Great Lake State, lived an American male who grew up wondering about the craton he lived on. So, in order to satisfy his curiosity, he went on road trips. His name was Tom Foolery. Tom had ventured off his North American Plate in the past and had made his way over to the European Plate because he was hungry for knowledge. On the way back at 38,000′, he noticed a road in northern Canada that he followed from his commercial jet’s coach seat for nearly 2 hours. A year and a half later, Tom was now on a mission to put an automobile on that highway with himself at the helm. He elected to fly to Maine, rent a car, and get himself on that road via entry into the cap of Canada. With Passport and Driver’s license in hand and a pocket full of cash from 2 countries, Tom was off and running (driving) after landing. First stop: Acadia National Park with an ascent up Cadillac Mountain. Timing is everything in travel as half the time you get lucky with the weather and the other half dictates that you will lose. That day was put in the L. column as fog gave a fantastic view of Tom’s shoes and not much more. Oh well. Traveling north along the Maine coast, it was now time to cross into the jester hat province known as New Brunswick. Being prior to 9/11, the Canadian crossing was nothing more than a tiny guard house at the border. The friendly Canuk smiled and said, “hi, eh?” He began his intense interrogation with the first question. “Where ya from dare, eh?” and followed that up with his final statement, “you have yerself a fine day dare fella, eh?” With that, Tom entered the land of eh dares and away he went. When engaged in a road trip, never take the direct route. You will miss some hidden history you’ll never know if you avoid the backroads. To the west lay a ferry that would carry Tom across the expansive St. Lawrence Seaway and on to Labrador; to the east is Nova Scotia. East it is. It is stupid to travel somewhere without seeking the scenery of the sideroads. 

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