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Traveling Off-IslandNovember 08, 2010 Whether I named Travvy true or his name has rearranged my life I couldn't tell you. What I do know is that I've done more traveling since my Fellow Traveller came along, and most of it has been Travvy-related (most of the rest had to do with cataract surgery). Considerably more travel(l)ing, which is to say "going off-island." It started with that trek to Masasyu Alaskan Malamute Kennels in Canandaigua, New York, before we even met. This is no vague impression: I've got data to prove it. Check out my credit card statements for the last 10 years. I've shelled out more money to the Steamship Authority (SSA -- if you live on Martha's Vineyard or Nantucket, SSA does not stand for Social Security Administration) since that trip to get Travvy (late April 2008) than I did in the preceding decade. Before the beginning of this month, I'd made seven round-trips accompanied by Trav. Two of them involved overnight stays. The one time Travvy didn't come was in mid-March, when I went off on foot and came back with Malvina Forester. How Travvy-related was that? Here's where the karmic hypothesizing comes in. Trav destroyed Uhura Mazda's passenger-side upholstery and seat belt. About a year later, I wrecked Uhura's front axle en route to Rally obedience class. Malvina Forester is a far better MDV (that's Malamute Delivery Vehicle) than Uhura ever was. Uhura was good at hauling hay and shavings. Malvina transports malamute, gear, and driver-chaperone in comfort that is not only dry but (when necessary) air conditioned. Yesterday we got up in the dark and were rolling down the driveway by 5:10 a.m. Daylight saving time ended several hours earlier, but even allowing for "fall back" it was still dark -- dark when we reached Vineyard Haven, and just beginning to get less dark when the 6 a.m. ferry left the slip, with us on it. The boat was barely half full -- no one takes the 6 a.m. ferry unless they have to, and at this time of year there's nearly always room on the 7 or 8:15, except maybe on peak weekends. I was going to a dog-training seminar that began at 9 a.m. The seminar was in Worcester, a solid two-hour drive from Woods Hole. The only alternative to the 6 o'clock boat was going off the day before and staying in a motel, which several of my friends did. Travvy wasn't going to the seminar, but I didn't have anyone to look after him at home, and my Fellow Traveller travels well, so he came too. We made our customary stop at the gas station and convenience store near the Falmouth Ice Arena; it's adjacent to the "back 40" of the SSA's Palmer Ave. parking lot, which is a good place to give the dogs the potty break you didn't have time for before you rushed for the boat. This time Trav and I crossed the bike path and walked up the paved access road -- to discover that the backside of Falmouth Hospital was just over the top of the hill. Before we hit the road in earnest, I decided to gas up. Gas is a lot cheaper off-island -- price differentials of 50 cents a gallon aren't unusual. The downside is that most off-island gas stations are self-serve, and I'm borderline phobic about self-serve gas. I didn't own a motor vehicle till I moved to Martha's Vineyard, and on Martha's Vineyard all the gas stations are full service. Since I don't travel much, you can figure out the rest: confronted with a self-serve pump, I do my best to decipher and follow the directions but usually make a fool of myself and have to ask the attendant for help. Thanks to this year's traveling, however, I was beginning to get comfortable with serving myself. Confident, even. Maybe even cocky. I unscrewed the gas cap. Swiped my credit card, no problem. Lifted the handle, inserted nozzle into gas tank -- nozzle hit a metal wall. I was mystified. I poked it in a couple more times. No go. The metal wall gave easily to the pressure of my forefinger, but the nozzle wouldn't go in. By then the pump had given up and cancelled the sale. I was about to give up, but the nice attendant came out from the convenience store and pointed out that I was using the diesel pump. The nozzle on the regular gas pump went into Malvina's tank just fine. Not all idiot-proofing is idiotic. I still think automatic daytime running lights are stupid, but I'm glad Malvina has a fool-proof gas tank. Travvy trusts me to get this stuff right, but he doesn't care how I do it.
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