When we constructed the interstate system, we simply bypassed much of our country’s intricate variety. Still, in spite of losing this national character, there are those who get their kicks motoring the monotonous I-ways of America. They find a comfortable routine in the coast to coast, border to border ennui of signs for toll collection, motels, chain restaurants and gas stations.
But some blotches of local personality remain, concealed in this national humdrum. For instance, one of the oddball pleasures of driving along I-95 tempts the motorist at Havre de Grace, Maryland.