From Sentinel reporter Dave Greisman:
The town of Acworth, population 882, is on the edge of The Sentinel’s coverage area, about 45 minutes to the north of Keene. It is one of the few towns I had yet to visit in the eight months since I arrived in the Granite State. My Tuesday night assignment was to attend its town meeting.
But first I’d need to get there.
After a quarter of a century in my native Maryland, I was fortunate to be far from directionally challenged while I navigated from one corner of the state to another.
Not so up here.
No matter how often I used Google Maps and no matter how often I ask my knowledgeable colleagues where and when to turn, I nevertheless tend to find myself pondering replacing my dashboard-mounted satellite radio with a GPS unit. Tonight was one of those nights.
"Drive north on Route 10, then turn left at 123," a coworker had said. "Turn right at the general store. You can’t miss it."
I wasn’t so sure.
I knew Route 10 – a month going to Newport and back for a murder trial imprinted that highway in my mind. And so I turned left at Route 123 upon entering Marlow, waiting for the next step to come.
And waiting. And waiting.
Into Alstead. Onto Route 123A. Into Langdon. Frost heaves. Sharp turns. Worst of all, doubt. A quick glance earlier in the day at Google Maps had suggested I turn left from Route 10 onto 123A. I had probably misheard my colleague and added unnecessary distance to my travels. But then I saw a trusty road sign with an arrow telling me a left turn would take me to Acworth. As I continued uphill and into the dark, the increasing number of handmade political signs indicated I was probably getting closer.
Finally, I was.
The axiom reads that getting there is half the battle. Not so. I knew how to get home.
The town of Acworth, population 882, is on the edge of The Sentinel’s coverage area, about 45 minutes to the north of Keene. It is one of the few towns I had yet to visit in the eight months since I arrived in the Granite State. My Tuesday night assignment was to attend its town meeting.
But first I’d need to get there.
After a quarter of a century in my native Maryland, I was fortunate to be far from directionally challenged while I navigated from one corner of the state to another.
Not so up here.
No matter how often I used Google Maps and no matter how often I ask my knowledgeable colleagues where and when to turn, I nevertheless tend to find myself pondering replacing my dashboard-mounted satellite radio with a GPS unit. Tonight was one of those nights.
"Drive north on Route 10, then turn left at 123," a coworker had said. "Turn right at the general store. You can’t miss it."
I wasn’t so sure.
I knew Route 10 – a month going to Newport and back for a murder trial imprinted that highway in my mind. And so I turned left at Route 123 upon entering Marlow, waiting for the next step to come.
And waiting. And waiting.
Into Alstead. Onto Route 123A. Into Langdon. Frost heaves. Sharp turns. Worst of all, doubt. A quick glance earlier in the day at Google Maps had suggested I turn left from Route 10 onto 123A. I had probably misheard my colleague and added unnecessary distance to my travels. But then I saw a trusty road sign with an arrow telling me a left turn would take me to Acworth. As I continued uphill and into the dark, the increasing number of handmade political signs indicated I was probably getting closer.
Finally, I was.
The axiom reads that getting there is half the battle. Not so. I knew how to get home.
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