Every May I drive to Lexington, Massachusetts to celebrate my grandson’s birthday and decorate our family graves. This year was special. Malcolm was also graduating from high school and the family gathered – even more of us than usual. His grandfather drove up from New York City with Malcolm’s aunt visiting from Chile. His uncle flew in from Annapolis and his godmother from Los Angeles. This kid has drawing power! But regardless of the dozens of times I’ve traveled the 534 miles to Lexington, it is still a long day.

In the early years, I prided myself on my one-day trip time. When my daughter lived in Boston proper, my personal best time from Warren was 8 hours and 40 minutes, a respectable land/speed record for a white-haired daredevil. I guess those glory days are gone forever, as I’m forced to become more practical in my advanced years. Nowadays, I have an under-tanked vehicle, under-circulated legs, and a digestive tract which no longer competes in endurance records.

I used to have the formula down pat, playing a driving race game with myself. I left Warren with a full gas tank and set the cruise control on 74 when I reached the highway. After one restroom stop in upstate New York, I continued non-stop to Lee, Massachusetts, the first rest stop on the Mass Pike, 401 miles from home. I always arrived bladder bursting, gas tank on fumes. It was, and still is, the perfect pit stop – the fresh air of the Berkshires, clean restrooms, and decent food selection.

I always planned on accomplishing the pit stop necessities in less than 20 minutes. After a rapid run to the ladies’ room and a coffee mug refill, I bought a banana and fed the guzzling gas tank. Then back onto the Mass Pike for the last hour and 45 minutes. It was fun. I loved the challenge of averaging 60 or 61 mph, including stop time. Time went by quickly and the game kept the drive from being boring.

As years went by, the time challenge game became tougher. My bladder became the pace car. A few extra potty stops, even at five minutes each, kills precious minutes. A few more years down the road and the legs required dekinking at each stop. These days, waiting by the driver’s door while my circulation kicks in is not quick. Then there’s my mini-SUV, with the small gas tank. Add up all these setbacks and my old reliable Lee rest stop has become the fourth piddle station.

Last week, I was pleasantly surprised at the gas prices. Now that a full tank has become a major budget item, I was dreading Thruway fuel prices and yet each station was consistently 30 cents a gallon lower than at home.

After my mandatory Lee stop, the Mass Pike segment went quickly – Springfield, Worcester, Framingham. Actually, the traffic on the pike always moves along. It’s well-known that Massachusetts drivers have a death wish. Why else would you pass on the inside breakdown lane going 80 mph? The Massachusetts State Police seem to have decided that if you’re not cutting in and out, or hanging naked out the windows, 85 is a reasonable speed in the passing lane.

I usually make terrific time on that last leg to Lexington. Last Tuesday, I was driving 78 mph in the travel lane, just to keep up with traffic, when a Massachusetts trooper passed me like I was standing still. Massachusetts driving is not for wimps.

Travel gets even faster past Worcester when the road expands to three lanes. Except when it doesn’t. When it is stopped for heavy rush hour traffic, or God forbid, an accident, it is not unusual to be completely stopped for 20 minutes. Or 40 minutes. Or, as we have been a few times, 2 hours.

After years of the Massachusetts Turnpike slowing into a serpentine parking lot, I figured out how to get the lowdown on the situation. When everyone finally turns off their ignitions, I leave my car and walk to the nearest 18-wheeler. They all have CB radios and know what’s happening. Last year, Sam, a FedEx driver told me, “It’s an accident a few miles ahead. There’s one ambulance so far, and the way the troopers are moving cars, it seems like they’re waiting for a helicopter.” I got out my book, some snacks, and took some cookies back to Sam.

One wonders if Massachusetts drivers might slow down to drive more safely? Yes, but the aggressive drivers are stuck with ever-increasing population density, and a dramatically undersized highway system. I do not see a change in the near future.

Knowing my reaction time is slowing, I now occasionally make the annual trip a two-day affair. My racing days are probably history.

I guess I’m becoming a wimp.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at moby.32@hotmail.com