Saratoga Springs, New York. We were the first to arrive, we were the last to arrive. Yes, we start with a riddle. The answer? Read on.

We started in Scranton. 75,000 people. But metro Scranton is more like 550,000, so it is both relatively small and relatively big. Another riddle. This time presented as fact.

The server at the hotel restaurant was all in black. Looked like a priest. I made some remark about today being a black day, expecting a blank look in response, but instead got a mini-lecture on trends in server outfits, the relative merits of white and black shirts and more. I should have taken notes.

We checked out, quickly lost our sense of direction and passed by a sign that said something like Scranton Iron Works Historic Site, so we pulled in. There is a lot of signage, most of which I skipped, and you can look down (and I mean down) into four large circular, tube- shaped, bricked, holes in the ground, originally built in the 1840s when iron and steel and coal were making their presence known in what was becoming Scranton. They are next to Roaring Brook, still roaring and up a steep hill, and all of that had something to do with what went on there. I will admit to knowing nothing about blast furnaces before this visit and to knowing nothing about them now. But it was interesting, I am sure.

Onward through the bigger than it looked the night before downtown area to the Steamtown National Historic Site. The best name for this fascinating railroad museum? Maybe not. But fascinating it is. A railroad yard still in use, they say, a roundhouse, many engines and cars, some of which you can tour. Apparently train rides, but we did not see that. A large building with a jam packed exhibits on the technical aspects of railroads and railroading, another on the history of trains in this country, a third where trains are being repaired and restored. Too much for a short visit, but it meant we didn’t leave Scranton until about 11:30.

One thing I learned is that the engineer didn’t have a panoramic view of the track and that you always had two men in the engine room to be able to see the track curves on both sides. And at night, the only spotlight looked straight ahead.

When you leave Scranton vowed to avoid Interstates, you learn two things. Most importantly, the countryside is exquisite. And, yes, there are Trump signs scattered about. Is rural Pennsylvania really Alabama, or is Alabama really rural Pennsylvania? Hard to know.

Through this drive, we really had no idea where we were, blindly following our GPS. But we didn’t realize that our GPS was a trickster, waiting to play its little jokes on an unsuspecting couple.

“Turn left at the fork.”

“Really, shouldn’t we go right? Okay, GPS knows best”

That was the conversation before we went left, lost our Internet connection and came to a T, not having any idea where to turn, and later learning that we shouldn’t have gone left at that first fork and having to go on a gravel road for two miles to get back.

Or….when GPS set us on NY Route 10, which was to take us to Richhmondville (even after we got there, we weren’t sure it existed), where we were going to get on I-88 because time was getting short, we feared. But along the way, GPS changed its mind and told us to take Betty Brook Road for 6 miles. Really? Well, okay.

i have nothing against Betty Brook, but I think she cost us over 30 minutes as we followed her and then followed a series of left, right, left instructions until we found ourselves back on Route 10, not far from it’s intersection with Betty Brook Road.

Our nine friends whom we are meeting here (all readers of this blog) will be disappointed that they weren’t the stars of today’s show. But c’est la vie. (Ha, WordPress is not great on languages. They thought I should say c’est la vida.)

Now for the riddle. By the time we arrived in Saratoga Springs, everyone else was here. We were last. But the last shall be first, as they (might sometimes say. Because we were late, we went right to our first night restaurant, where we were first to arrive.

Food was delicious at Osteria Danny. Everyone seems well. We will see what today brings.

More than the usual number of typos? Maybe. No time to proof. C’est la vida.