Goodbyes, Reunions, Tax-Free Wine and Old Brick Mills

My first day on the clock since Thursday left me a little edgy. I had to return the rental to the Manchester Airport by 5 p.m. Alicia checked into her last hotel, and we popped downtown for breakfast at Magnolia, Vermont's first green-certified restaurant. Our three days of journeys, we said our goodbyes and I aimed the Malibu east, with three hours of driving left in Northern New England.

Luckily, a way to break up the trip emerged. I dumped a planned stop in Concord to see the state capitol to visit with an old friend from the Mercyhurst English Department, Stephanie Clarke Gunn. Mark Zuckerberg might be selling my personal information, but his little social media site has reconnected me with people I hadn't seen in a decade or more.

As I prepared to exit Vermont the rain struck up, pounding West Lebanon and the river valley for a few minutes. Steph and I met for shakes at the Burger King, talked about life, the old days in Erie and everything else under the clouds for about 90 minutes before the clock ushered me back onto I-89. Thirteen years passed since our last visit, aside from random Facebook conversations. Life's too short to skip chances to get reacquainted with old friends. No matter how little time we can spent, it's always worth every second.

The wine store employee in me had to stop at New Hampshire's infamous rest-stop liquor stores. Inside, it felt the same as any store, but there were a few finds. I scored two excellent bottles of French wine -- a 2007 Chateauneuf-du-Pape and a 2007 Gigondas, great wines from a great growing year on the Southern Rhone - for $55. After four years in Nashville, I could grow used to a place without sales tax.

After checking in (hotel) and dropping off (rental car), it was time to wander Manchester. The stunning rows of former mills along the Merrimack River gave the city tremendous character. Most of the red brick buildings which were five or six stories tall, filled with new businesses. Music for Zumba class poured out of open windows. People filled restaurants below. The Manchester Fisher Cats, AA affiliate of the Toronto Blue Jays, were away, so I instead hunted down Milly's Tavern, Manchester's sole craft brewer.

Cabbing it home, I holed up in the hotel, walked to a nearby diner for a mediocre meatball sub, wrote a stack of postcards I forgot to mail, and fell asleep early. After a day on the clock, my return flight was on the board.