* * * * *
                                        
                 “Next exit: you did fill up the tank, right?”
                                        
 [1] This must have happened in 1990, 1991 thereabouts. The huge interchange
between I-75, I-595 and the Sawgrass Expressway was still under construction,
or finished enough to be used for traffic. I was riding with Bill to a
friend's house in central Broward County [2] and now we were headed home at
around one in the morning. I suggested we take I-595 west and pick up the
Sawgrass Expressway north; Bill lived only a mile or so from a Sawgrass exit,
so we would get home rather quickly.

Or so we thought.

Since the massive interchange was still being finished, the exit we needed
wasn't well marked and we sailed right past it. We also sailed right past US-
27 without notice. About fifteen minutes and we had yet to find the exit
which should have been maybe five, ten minutes away. Bill was getting nervous
too—thoughts of being eaten by grues [3] or even canibalistic humanoid
underground dwellers attacking us.

The next exit came up and we made a decision—to take whatever road that was
north. We drive off the Sawgrass only to find a short segment of a
north/south road that goes underneath the expressway. We're rather surprised
by this, so we end up on the onramp where we see a sign: “Next exit: 87
miles.”

We stopped the car.

No matter that we're on the onramp of an expressway.

We stare at the sign. “Next exit: 87 miles.”

We look at each other.

Bill throws the car into reverse and we drive backwards down the onramp, go
underneath the expressway, and get back on going east.

[1] gopher://gopher.conman.org/IPhlog:2002/02/21/interchange.png
[2] http://www.co.broward.fl.us/
[3] http://www.tuxedo.org/~esr/jargon/html/entry/grue.html

Email author at sean@conman.org

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