The cheese steak was great. The drive is still bothering me.

~ by Paul

The Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich

One of the items on our agenda from the beginning of the road trip was to stop the rig, go ashore and grab an authentic Philly cheese steak sandwich. Holly and Isaac had seen a segment on the Food Network on the restaurants that claim to have originated the iconic sandwich, Pat’s and Gino’s. They’re adjacent restaurants close to the heart of Philadelphia.


Holly confirmed the information and put it on our itinerary. When in Philadelphia we wouldn’t see the Liberty Bell, we’d see Pat and Gino’s. As we drove through downtown Philadephia I had a moment of excitement considering the historic accomplishments achieved two centuries prior in the midst of the old buildings. Moments passed and my grip tightened on the wheel. The streets in the city are narrower than the interstate. Much narrower. I tried my best not to let my eyes wander from the road before me as my glee subsided. The closer we go to Pat and Gino’s the smaller the roads seemed to become. The final turn toward the smells, sounds and crowds surrounding the cheese steak mecca caused us to paused and reduce the width of our rig. We pulled in both rear view mirrors providing another essential six inches of clearance to either side. Like a ship that leaves the ocean to explore a river, our motor home was far from the comfort of the open road and navigating a one lane street lined with parked cars to the starboard and port side. I kept imagining the sound of scraping as we passed through the gauntlet of steel, fiberglass and rubber. And then Holly uttered words akin to what I was already repeating in my troubled mind, “Where are we going to park this boat?”

With the wisdom, genius and spontaneity I declared with confidence that I would let Holly, Isaac, Silas and Claire out at the corner while Samuel, Ahna and I continued our perilous attempt to navigate shallows. My forearms ached from the grip I had on the wheel as I rolled down the road at 5 mph. I hadn’t allowed my genius to consider how I was going to return to pickup the shore party. Instead I endured the horns honking at our white rolling box from the line of cars curing our existence. However this captain didn’t care. They couldn’t go around me and I wasn’t going any faster, period.


Several blocks from Pat and Gino’s I came across town homes that had garages and driveways facing the street. I brought our ship to rest allowing the column of cars to pass by. After exchanging heated glances with the first several drivers I lowered my gaze to my lap, pried my fingers from the wheel and took in a deep breath. I was safe, but I wasn’t done. Somehow I would have to whip around and pick up the family I had hastily left behind.

After a few minutes with the iPhone map app I charted a course for a grocery store with a large parking lot just 2 miles away. With my hand on the gearshift I looked out the passenger window hoping to use the rear view mirror to check for traffic before pulling back into the road. Oops, the mirror was pulled in to give me the clearance I still needed to wade down the street. Again a hasty plan was hatched in my mind. I rolled down the passenger window and listened carefully. After about a minute I was confident I could tell when a car was coming down the road using sonar. I listened for awhile, prayed, prepared and pulled out. No screeching, no wreck. I was feeling pretty good.

The parking lot was home for forty minutes and several phone calls to Holly inquiring on the status of our loot. While waiting I plotted out a course for Holly and the kids to follow in order to pick them up on a corner that didn’t require the expert driving skills I had displayed earlier. I asked Holly to walk two blocks East where I would pick them up at Ninth and Washington. You may take a look at Google Maps. It seemed like a great place to rendezvous. I was wrong.

I received the call from Holly letting me know she had the package and was making her way East. This was my cue to rebuckle Sam and Ahna and headed their way. After just five minutes I received a frantic call from Holly. I had led them to a corner that inspired fear. They were waiting and displaying a high dollar camera, iPhones, philly cheese steak sandwiches and blonde hair. Whether real or imagined the kids had observed a car drive by them with the universal “I’m shooing you with my finger” motion made in their direction. They wanted to get out of there, immediately. The six liter engine under my control roared as I broke my pledge to stop speeding. I buzzed light after light, moving from Second to Third and then Fifth avenue. At the corner of Eighth and Washington I was in sight of the blonde foursome waving me down from the side of the road. They hopped onboard rattling off their perspective of the shore excursion. There may have been some embellishment with their fervor. But the stories were good. Ten minutes down the road we began consumption of our famous sandwiches. They were novel, filling, and worth the effort.