I merge into the eastbound lane at Stony Ridge-Toledo, a hundred miles west of Cleveland. The Ohio Turnpike and Infrastructure Commission describes it as a ‘full interchange.’ A toll gate waits ahead. I stop and reach my hand through the window toward the machine and pull. A slip of card stock reads: “Ohio Turnpike Toll Ticket. Exit 71.” Turnpikes don’t really exist out west, so I wonder how much this passage will set me back.
Driving the turnpike in a car feels like flying in a plane—there are no U-turns and rules govern your trajectory. But at least the roadway is smooth, boasting three lanes in each direction, and I can drive 70 without the constant jarring from patches and potholes that plagued my journey in Minnesota, Wisconsin, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan.
When the fuel gauge drops to its last eighth, I pull into the Commodore Perry Service Plaza, a toll road rest stop, 73 miles from Cleveland. I figure I’ll gas up quick and get back on the turnpike. I park the van and enter the building for the restroom break. I expect a basic setup. Instead, the facility is modern, expansive, and open around the clock.
It felt like I’d entered the terminal of an international airport. The building is expansive. Everything is clean and polished. Inside the rotunda, there’s lots of traveler activity. People coming, going, resting, relaxing. A load of tour bus passengers pushes itself into a glistening food court. An elongated, curving information booth showcases glossy brochures and free travel information. Vending machines proffer drinks and snacks. There’s a gift shop. People wait in a line. Coin-operated massage chairs call out for sore bodies. A glass door leads to the Trucker’s Lounge. I enter and look around. I notice the showers stalls. A sign reads, “Free and pen to the public.”
It’s nearly 7 pm, and still light outside. I could make Cleveland. But this place seems downright comfortable and luxurious. I ask around and learn I can safely overnight here, so I decide to call it a night. Soon, the rhythmic drone of idling diesel engines rock me to sleep.
Early the next morning, the diesels are still idling. I grab my go bag – it contains shower gel, a razor and a blow dryer – step into the building, and locate the Trucker’s Lounge. All the shower stalls are empty. I step into one, lather up, and soon smell the invigorating scent of Irish Spring. I towel off, change into fresh clothes, and feel completely refreshed. I grab my bag and head back to the van.
After another hour on the turnpike, I veer off at an interchange in Cleveland. The toll charge amounted to $3. We should have turnpikes out west, I thought.