Driving West Just to Look at Changing Leaves? What Am I Missing?

Welcome to “The Salty Cod,” a monthly column in which humorist Steve Calechman grapples with uniquely New England dilemmas. 

Dear Salty Cod: Driving west just to look at changing leaves? What am I missing?

Absolutely nothing. We got plenty of leafy trees right in town, so why ruin an entire Sunday driving all the way out to where? Framingham? Just like there’s no longer any reason to schlep to a theater since you’ve watched The Godfather at home. Or see the Eiffel Tower any farther than Vegas. Or eat Thai food anywhere but Swampscott.

The Cod understands. Traveling equals discomfort, and foliage means the Pike—the tight, wool sweater of roads—and quite possibly Route 2, a “highway” where no ride has ever felt one second faster. Yet continually dismissing the left half of our state is pure foolishness. Just ask Kristina Bezanson, a senior lecturer in arboriculture and urban forestry at UMass Amherst, who appreciated leaves and drives weekly into the city. Her verdict? It’s not even close. The west rules, and deep down, we know it. Sure, we put on a show with our Norway maples and honey locusts that no one knows the names of, and they do give off colors. “Yellow, brown, and bleh,” she says.

But out in the wilderness (that’s way past Framingham), there are sugar maples, red maples, hickories, birches, and black gums with more colors and multiple shades of the same color. These trees are sitting on big, open hills without any buildings or Amazon trucks to muck up the backdrop. Oh, and you also don’t have to hike to see them. You can pull over to the side of the road—and please, do pull over—and just stare out your windshield.

If this makes you reconsider, cool. Maybe you couple it with a trip to Springfield and finally visit the Naismith Basketball Hall of Fame. Or maybe you’ve accepted that leaves will never be your thing. Also cool. We all travel for something that seems nuts to everyone else. Like driving to Jersey and back in a night (hello, Pike) to see Springsteen for the 80th time. Or cruising up and down 6A searching for brass finials. Or waiting in traffic on Route 1 in Foxboro, all to sit outside and watch a sport that’s so much better on TV, drink $14 beer, wait two hours minimum to leave, and then do it for seven more Sundays as the weather gets colder and colder and colder…

Yeah, free leaves in the 413 sound pretty dumb.

Got a question for the Salty Cod? Send it to [email protected].