Ralph Daddio and I met in the 6th grade at Churchill Jr. High School. Ralphs parent’s house in East Brunswick was like a small zoo at the time. Aside from the typical couple of dogs Ralph’s pets included two crows Alfred and Joe (both could speak Alfred had the more comprehensive vocabulary…I always remember him saying “wana cricket”). In addition to the crows there were two skunks, Oscar and Fragrance. They made a great couple. There were also snapping turtles that weighed more than we did. Snakes both friendly and poisonous and a pond full of fish, frogs and salamanders. If this weren’t enough Ralph’s older brother, Tony, had Harley-Davidson Motorcycles; a virtual paradise for 11 year old boys. I spent a lot of time over Ralph’s.
Ralph’s father, Mr. Daddio, was a mason by trade. He built the red brick house they lived in. He was very knowledgeable in all trades and reminded me of a “Paul Bunyan” type guy with a great sense of humor. I liked him right away. Mr. Daddio owned several cabins in Bangor Maine and every summer he would go there to cut wood for the winter months when they were rented to hunters. He invited Ralph and me to go with him this summer so I asked my parents and we were off. Mr. Daddio doesn’t believe in burning daylight so we were off at 5:00 AM in a big Oldsmobile station wagon with wood on the sides. The route is simply we take interstate 95 most of the way. There is lots to see in New Jersey along the turnpike headed towards The City. The Statue of Liberty, all the ships in Port Elizabeth and Port Newark, let along the numerous refineries that always seemed to me to be on fire! Then we entered New York via the George Washington Bridge which had a wicked view of most of Manhattan and the Palisades. Going through the Bronx is always fun as the interstate is way below street level maybe 30-40 feet below and you actually drive under these huge skyscrapers. You never want you car to break down here as evidenced by the number of stripped almost skeleton looking vehicles you see on the roadside. Your car breaks down and it’s like an animal in the Grand Canyon getting injured it only takes the vultures parked on the edge of the cliffs seconds to swoop down and rip apart the prey. I don’t want to say the crime rate here is particularly high but one does notice there aren’t many police in the Bronx.
So now we’re going through Connecticut which is a little boring nothing but trees to see on the roadside and an occasional gas station or restaurant. At about 7:00 AM we reach the Massachusetts Border. Mr. Daddio pulled into the toll booth at the beginning of the Massachusetts Turnpike and notified the attendant that the vehicle behind us was his son-in-law and his daughter and that he would be paying their toll. This is a complete fabrication, of course. Ralph and I looked at one another and said “what the hell.” So Mr. Daddio pays the toll for us and the car behind us and exits the toll booth. We asked him why he did it and the only response he gave was “that we would see”. After the initial acceleration leaving the toll booth we noticed the car was slowly gaining more speed and Mr. Daddio kept looking in his rear view mirror. It was apparent the car behind us was trying to catch up. This was like a game of cat and mouse to Mr. Daddio. Since we had already finished playing the alphabet game on the Connecticut Interstate I guess this was the next game to play. This was all done for pure amusement! We were doing about 90 mph when we heard the siren from the Massachusetts State Trooper behind us. Mr. Daddio calmly pulled over and the young officer with the wide rimmed Smokey hat approached the car and asked for his license and registration. Mr. Daddio replied, in a very neighborly manner “wonderful morning here is Massachusetts isn’t it young man?” The officer then proceeded to the patrol car. Ralph and I questioned Mr. Daddio on if he was worried about getting a ticket or could they impound the car or even if we could we go to jail. “Nonsense, nonsense” Mr. Daddio utters. Not to worry”. After a couple of minutes the officer comes back to the car and gives Mr. Daddio his license and registration back and asked, “Do you know how fast you were traveling?” Mr. Daddio proudly announces he thought “about 90 mph.” The officer replied, “Are you serious? You admit to driving 90 mph?” “Well of course officer I was doing at least 90 mph.” Somewhat in the state of shock the trooper said, “I’ve been patrolling this turnpike for three years now and you are the only one to ever admit they were going that fast.” “I don’t understand that,” replied Mr. Daddio. “I’m not going to lie about it that’s what I was doing. The boys are witnesses.” “You know then sir I’m going to have to give you a citation.” “For what?” remarked Mr. Daddio? “Well for exceeding the speed limit of course,” replied the trooper. Mr. Daddio answered, “I don’t understand I just told you I was doing 90 mph.” “Which is 35 mph over the legal speed limit” said the trooper. “Over the speed limit by 35 mph what are you talking about?” Mr. Daddio stated emphatically. “That’s not over the speed limit.” The trooper stared at him for a good two minutes and replied, “The national speed limit is 55 mph and has been for several years.” “Son that may be true in other states but I’ve been coming up to Massachusetts since 1940 and the speed limit has always been 95,” Mr. Daddio informs the trooper. “Sir I am damn sure the speed limit is and has been 55 mph for some time now,” replies the trooper in a stern voice. “If that is so what are all these signs I keep seeing on the side of the road that read 95?” Meanwhile there is one of those signs 20 feet in front of the car. The trooper takes off his Smokey hat and points at the sign. “You mean that sign?” “Certainly I mean that sign there must be 200 of them on this turnpike” declares Mr. Daddio. “You know Mr. Daddio I don’t know whether to believe you or not,” the officer stated with the most perplexing look on his face. “Those signs indicate you are on Interstate 95 they are not the speed limit,” insists the trooper. Mr. Daddio fires back, “This is a turnpike not an interstate officer.” “Actually it’s both,” says the officer. “Well that’s a little confusing don’t you think?” replied Mr. Daddio. “You know I guess it is and since you admitted driving at 90 mph I’m not going to write you a citation but I am giving you a stern warning if you are ever caught in the State of Massachusetts driving over 55 mph we will throw the book at you. Do you understand that Mr. Daddio?” Said the trooper. Mr. Daddio hesitates to answer. “Mr. Daddio do you understand I’m cutting you a break here?” barks the trooper. “I do son and I appreciate it I’m just happy you didn’t catch me on 287 in New York!”
Mr. Daddio pulled off the turnpike at the next exit to go into I-Hop for breakfast and the young couple trying to catch us followed us to the restaurant. They asked us in line what happened and why we paid their toll so Mr. Daddio told them he was bored and thought it would be fun. They had breakfast with us and we told them what happened with the trooper. It definitely wasn’t boring and never is with Mr. Daddio.
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