I crossed the border into Maine without too much hassle. I didn’t have any nerves like I did heading into North Dakota, so I managed to keep my poop in a group and rode off without having forgotten anything. Back in Nova Scotia when I lunched with fellow riders, they recommended I ride highway 9 into Bangor. It was a nice little ride, but not as twisty as I expected. After Peru, though, not much really is!

OK so here is where the rubber hits the road for me a little bit. I am not a fan of spaghetti unless it’s on a plate covered with sauce, maybe has a meatball or two and has a mountain of cheese. I am definitely NOT a fan of the mess of spaghetti that showed up on Petunia every five minutes in the cities in the states. Invariably I end up on the wrong noodle and have to noodle around far too long to figure out where I need to go. This is exactly how my arrival in Bangor went.

I figured I would just roll into town, spot a motel, then Boom! I’d be unpacked and having a cold one while waiting for my supper. Here’s what actually happened…

I rolled into Bangor on highway 9 (#1 on the image below) and immediately zigged when I should have zagged and found myself on the 395 going past Bangor. Fuck. OK, no problem I think to myself. I’ll just turn off. Nope. More spaghetti. More misguided choices. Petunia seemed to be about 500 meters slower than Jules, so I didn’t know which exit to take until I was long past it. I came in at #1 on this map. I hit the first spaghetti (#2) and ended up leaving town (#3). I had to go a long way before turning around again. Then I ended up turned around again at the #4 spaghetti leaving town again. There was no easy way to get off this one either and I was getting frustrated. This was about when I realized Petunia wasn’t actually connected to any network.

Finally I found a side road, but now it’s rush hour and I’m running out of gas. I found a parking lot and now I’m fighting with Petunia to work outside Canada. She’s new to me and this is only the second time I’ve had to go on a freaking scavenger hunt to find the right setting. With my phone figured out, my next task was to find fuel, then food and a room. It’s starting to feel like the Shine Motel morning all over again. I’m hungry, I’m frustrated, and I’m forgetting that my helmet is NOT, in fact, the Cone of Silence.

I was parked in the parking lot of a veterinarian (somewhere around #5) and people were starting to leave work for the day. After cursing out Petunia, and cursing Bangor’s spaghetti highways, I finally pinned a nearby gas station. Once securing Petunia back in her holder and the route to the gas station now plugged in, I finally notice the stares I was getting. Oh gawd I could have died right there. It’s a hard lesson to realize my helmet does not shield the outside world from every song lyric I sing or every shit-losing, navigation tantrum I have.

I found fuel and took a moment at the gas station to find a hotel (X marks the spot..ish). Remember, it’s rush hour so now I’m dealing with spaghetti AND meatballs just to find the hotel. I got turned around again at spaghetti #6, but luckily there was another nearby exit to turn around. Finally I see the hotel ahead. I needed to turn left, but about eleventy nine meatballs were blocking the entrance while they waited for the light to turn green. I had another eleventy four meatballs coming in hot behind me, so I had to zip ahead. Except there wasn’t another opportunity to turn in.

After getting turned around in an industrial area, I had to re route back and give it another go. FAWK I was about ready to leave Bangor altogether at this point! All in, I spent an hour navigating these interchanges. Beverage in hand, I perused the menu. I laughed right out loud as sat at the bar and I’m telling you I must have looked crazy. The first entree listed was, you got it…spaghetti and meatballs.