We remained in good spirits for the rest of way, humming along to the radio and pointing out novelty license plates. In the many hours we spent in the car, I successfully conquered eight medium-difficulty sudukos, memorized the lyrics to four different songs that kept being repeated over the radio, doodled random things like monkeys, dogs, and ice cream sundaes onto notebook paper, and exhausted the flavor out of seven sticks of green apple gum.
The digital blue clock inside the car read 6:35p.m. when we pulled into what she said was my new hometown; Presque Isle, Maine. The sky was still in the dim orange hue of afternoon light, even though it was now technically evening. My first impression of the city was how it was so simple. There wasn’t a skyscraper or corporate building in sight; the tallest structure I found hovered at a mere five stories above ground, and was plastered in an unimaginative white coat of paint. No part of the architecture gave any hint to what kind of construction it was. It could’ve been anything from a bank, to apartments, to a library, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
Other than that, the stores seemed to suit tourists; boat rentals, souvenir shops, something that resembled an art museum, an old fashioned thrift store, and a corny looking ice cream parlor. But despite the up-market venue of this area, the buildings looked rather rundown and scruffy. Shop windows were filthy with grime and fingerprints, and paint was chipped and cracked with nearly washed-out color.
We were driving on the only main street in town, and it seemed like all the shops in the whole city were placed along this one strip. Mom reached over and pressed a button on the side of her door, and both our windows rolled down with a mechanical whrrrrr. The air outside, though breezy, was warmer than the cool air conditioning inside the car, so I was curious as to why she did this. I was just about to ask why, when it hit me; salt.
“You smell that?” she asked me with a grin.
“It’s the ocean!”
After a minute or two, my eyes found a harbor at the end of the long road. A few small white sailboats were docked next to a quay made of wood. Sand only existed in a few spots along the beach, and the rest was a pillar of gray rocks where the water crashed around in a foamy spray. A few people were out walking along the shores tonight, but it was getting late and so no one was swimming. Gulls flew just above the water’s glassy surface, searching for food, their bodies black silhouettes against the brilliant orange sky.
Mom made a right turn into a stream of suburbs, and then another right turn after that. After a few more blocks, the car slowed down in front of a small white house.
“This is it?” I asked.
“This is it,” she smiled.
