We were somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere-Maine, at some point in the middle of a 10 hour drive home. We had spent our 30th anniversary weekend in St Andrew by the Bay, New Brunswick.

It was Victoria Day, which is apparently a big holiday up there in Canada, eh? So the roads were practically empty all morning. There were long stretches of the ride where we saw no other cars traveling in either direction. Just us. And the wide open road. Something we never experience in New Jersey. I was in my driving glory!

There was a large LED road sign on the median. It was flashing: BUMP AHEAD. Mile Marker 151. BUMP AHEAD. Mile Marker 151.

‘What mile marker are we at?’ I asked.
‘Not sure,’ John replied, as he kept an eye out for the next post. ‘There it is. We’re at Mile 167.’
‘Why are they warning us about it now?’ I asked ‘Why so soon? We still have over 15 miles to go? It must be a mighty big bump?’

The miles passed at 110 kilometers – or 85 miles- or some other excessive speed- per hour, because the road was so invitingly wide open.

Around mile 160 there was a large orange sign with big bold black letters: BUMP AHEAD.

‘Another sign. This must really be SOME KINDA bump.‘

Even though the road was smooth and clear, and mine all mine, the idea that a BUMP, some kinda bump, possibly huge, extra-ordinary, or even dangerous, was up ahead, began to weigh on our carefree cruising. A little bit of worry was creeping in.

Just how big is this bump, exactly? Big enough to do damage to the car?

Perhaps we were still a bit concerned about the car because the CHECK ENGINE light had been on since the day before. Or maybe we were still shaken by that unfortunate incident a couple of hours earlier. When that bird barreled straight into our fast moving windshield, catapulted 30 feet into the air, and then disappeared for what seemed like a full minute, before I looked in the rear view mirror and watched that bird hit the road behind us with a thud. Devastating. ‘If we were watching a movie, I’d say that bird was a bad omen,’ I had told John after I calmed down and convinced myself that I wasn’t a murderer. (A birderer)

At mile 157 there were 2 signs! BUMP AHEAD. One on either side of the highway. BUMP AHEAD.

What is about to happen? What kind of bump is this? Should I be in the right lane or the left lane?

As we approached 151 I could see 2 signs up ahead. They each said BUMP.
There it is. 151.
We’re almost there.
I don’t see anything?
Do you see a bump?

All at once, we were upon it. With a soft ta-thump, ta-thump, the front and rear tires passed over THE BUMP. And just like that, we were beyond it. A barely unnoticeable change in the road surface, which might have been considered a minor pothole in New Jersey, if it were even considered at all.

All that build up. All that questioning. Speculating. Hypothesizing. Wondering. Worrying. All of that, for a normal every day bump in the road. A quick ta-thump ta-thump in passing.

Thirty or so miles later we approached another sign. We both read it out loud: BUMP AHEAD. We had a good chuckle, remembering the insignificance of that last bump, as we continued on, unfazed, unbothered. Heading home.

[This post is about our 30th anniversary road trip. And it is about our 30 year marriage. What a trip it has been so far. Bumps and all.]