There's a song by Simon and Garfunkel (which we think is called "America") containing the line: "Counting the Cars on the New Jersey Turnpike". Well, you certainly can't count the trucks because they aren't allowed on it! This made it somewhat confusing for those of us who were in a 14 foot truck and who wanted to take route 1&9 through New Jersey. This was on the way home from our own American Odyssey collecting the Mother of all Crates.

Our boxes, all fifty of them, had been taken from the flat in Copenhagen on the 8th of March with the promise of a three week journey by John from Kühne & Nagel. However the next thing we heard was that they were in a huge Crate due in Boston on the 9th of April! Rob rang the shipping agent in New York only to be passed over to a shipping agent in Boston, neither of whom admitted knowing anything about it. While waiting for this to be sorted out a third agent called to say that the Crate was in Newark and would be transported to Boston the next day. Deciding that Newark is nearer than Boston Rob made one of his stranger executive decisions and decided to pick the boxes up in Newark.

Since Hild was now here in Ithaca, we organized a 14 foot U-Haul truck (with a Mother's Attic and all) and setting off early in the morning on April 4th we headed for Newark. This was our first real travel in the Big Country and Rob, with his Italian features (read: big nose), got worried and sped up the car as we passed through "Killawog"!! Later on in the morning Rob got tempted to sing "Allentown" in its appropriate spot at which point Hild took a rapid detour! All the time Hild was in her "New York State of Mind": We can go anywhere as long as we don't end up on Manhattan with our 14-footer.

Our Newark-hurdles were: Visit the shipping agent, clearing our goods with US Customs, pick up our boxes on the docks, shop at IKEA and find our way home - in one piece.

Getting closer to Newark we learnt the lesson of 'a road on a map is not just one road on the ground'. Our big plan to take route 78, then a quick right and then left to find Carotrans (our shipping agent), went sour as there is an express part to the road with no exits, then there is the 'local' part of the road with plenty of exits - except the one we needed was on the other side. They never said that on our map! Oh well, pulled a U-turn (read right, left, left, left, left, right) just before the NJ Turnpike exit (phew) and found our turnoff not long after. Not so bad - we felt pretty good when we pulled into the Carotrans car park before 1pm and took two spaces for our 14-footer. Paper work and parting with a sum of money went smoothly, but shortly after Hild made her biggest mistake of the day by passing on the opportunity to go to the toilet. Little did she know that that was it for WCs for the next 6 hours....

Our next hurdle was to find and clear customs. With insufficient details on our maps we managed to get lost in Newark ending up in a place called Elizabeth. We went for a quick walk to find a better map, but they don't sell them in newsagents and they obviously don't read books here (not a book store in sight). In line with Stan's advice, Newark is 90 pct. black and today they all seemed to be out hanging in the streets. It wouldn't be quite as unnerving if they had appeared to be going about their own business. In the end we went into a police station and caught a rather hunky looking cop. Not only was he hunky, he could also gave us directions for Corbin Street and the US Customs office! All you (i.e. Hild) want from a cop really!

With the pleasant aura of having survived unscathed we were very excited to find the customs office quite easily. To make the day feel even better Rob got our stuff cleared in the US Customs by stating boldly what ISAAA stands for without stumbling. Saying "International Service for the Acquisition of Agri-Biotech Applications" three times in a row seemed like some kind of magic incatation as more US Customs officials were brought into the room to hear the phenomenon and each time was accompanied by a 'thunk' as another piece of paper was stamped with "Approved". Knowing that this was the criteria we should have smuggled something - anything. The only slightly off the record thing we have is a not-so-clean frying pan, possibly with BSE and F&M infected bits on it. Don't laugh, it may be the next big thing. The only question Hild was asked in the US border control earlier on that week was: "Oh, you've been at a farm! What did you eat there?". The guy didn't find it particularly funny when she answered: "Lots of juicy T-bone steaks".

The customs guy drew us a little map to find the AZ warehouse where our boxes were being held. We got down there, but only after Hild left her mark on the gate at the customs: A quick whack and bash with the wing mirror did the trick! (In fact it did seem to cure the annoying rattle we had noticed earlier that day.) After driving around on the docks our worst fears were confirmed as we had to join an already long line of trucks waiting to pick up their stuff. From 3 pm we were allowed to wait for an hour outside the gate and then an hour at the ramp. By this stage Hild was nearly peeing her pants, not from excitement but more from the aforementioned lack of toilets on the Newark docks. There were also no trees nor any bushes to hide behind. We are proud to say that she performed a great showing of bladder control.

Finally, we got to unload the Mother of all Crates. The beast was brought out into the light and a communal 'Wow!' was uttered by all on-lookers. Before us stood a 1x2x3 m beast of solid wood, plywood, metal roping, nails and screws!! While Rob got the 14-footer into line, Hild went at the Crate with borrowed hammer and crow bar - even if she was encouraged to "let the man do that!". (Rob is used to being looked at with this kind of envy as he lets Hild do everything which involves wood, hammers and saws.) During the next 30 minutes we were a well visited side-show to the everyday happenings at the AZ warehouse as we quickly got the front panel off and loaded our boxes into the truck with impressive organisation. Then, to extract our $50 deposit, we had to dismantle the Crate and take the bits of wood home with us (i.e. leave no rubbish). We went at it again with hammer and crowbar. The audience was captivated, apart from the guy who ran off when Rob muttered: "After waiting this long for our stuff, I'm ready to beat something with a hammer".

Now, during all of the kafuffle Hild had put the bladder issue to the back of her mind. Navigating the speed bumps on the docks however brought it right back. Where is IKEA and their toilets!!? Needless to say we missed the exit again and again did a U-turn in the spaghetti like junctions around Newark airport (we promise never to criticise the M6/M5 junction in Birmingham ever again). At some points it would have felt like luge-practice, but not on a full bladder. We found it just in time and never before has Hild entered a public toilet with such glee. After the turmoil of the last few hours we had deserved dinner at IKEA - and we did the right thing by having meatballs and lingonberry juice. In just one hour we cleaned out IKEA and scared the checkout girl with our multiple trolley shop! Yep, we know how to do IKEA.

It was time to find our way out of here and make it back to safe little Ithaca. Easier said than done. Again and again Hild managed to direct us towards Manhattan - only to divert us at the last minute. At one stage newspaper headings flashed in our heads: "Innocent tourists disappear in Jersey City", "Too late for a young (!) couple: We told you so - don't leave the highway!". This all became too much as we found ourselves on a normal road in a not so normal neighbourhood, having a bottle pelted at our car!

Definitely time to get out of there. And just then we found our way out to the all too familiar route 1&9. Only problem was that we were heading rapidly toward the Holland Tunnel - meaning Manhattan next. A U-turn took us back to the exact same spot, so we crossed our fingers and luckily found a last minute turn off. We shudder at the traffic jam we could have created if the Holland Tunnel by some horrible joke was 10 feet high and too small for our truck (more newspaper headlines). The "we-found-a-turn-off" celebrations were short lived as signs announced the upcoming Lincoln Tunnel also going to Manhattan. The only other exit choice was the New Jersey Turnpike - aaaaarrrrggghhh! It didn't help as we kept seeing the World Trade Centre on our right. But there in the mist - a happy little sign saying 'PS: stay left for route 3'. It might as well have said 'PS: stay left for Ithaca'. We were home free!

Now we worked our way backwards crossing over the New Jersey Turnpike (wahey!), through routes 46, 80, 380, 180, 79, 13 and North Triphammer Road. It was a doddle and a relief - 'cos we'd survived Newark, almost been in Allentown, avoided the New Jersey Turnpike several times and we'd even almost been on Manhattan. Not bad for a one day "In-Town" U-Haul hire!