June 30, 2026
We woke up early and turned the MG east, racing down the interstate as the crisp northern morning air slowly gave way to a bright, warm summer day. Our highway navigation brought us down into the historic, coastal city of Boston, Massachusetts. The city sits proudly on the edge of the harbor, a place where the smell of saltwater blends perfectly with the rich history embedded in the brick buildings and cobblestone streets. Since we chose land transportation over sails, we rolled right into the heart of the city, parked the convertible by the waterfront, and set off to see how New England handles a massive knockout tournament match.
The entire harbor area was buzzing with international electricity. Fans from all over the world were pouring into local taverns, their national colors draped over their shoulders. We found a lively, open-air pub right on the end of a bustling wooden pier that looked out onto the harbor where a fleet of modern yachts and historic schooners sat quietly at their moorings. The big screen above the bar was tuned in to a massive Round of 32 clash: France vs Sweden.
The contrast in styles on the pitch was spectacular, but the European powerhouses proved to be entirely too formidable. France put on an absolute masterclass of fast-paced, clinical football. They completely dismantled the Swedish defensive lines, moving the ball with a beautiful fluidity that left the crowd in the pub gasping. The French squad dominated the match from start to finish, locking in a decisive 3-0 shutout victory that sent their traveling supporters into an absolute frenzy of singing and waving tricolor flags.
We celebrated a magnificent day of sports by ordering a couple of cold local ales and a massive plate of fresh steamed clams and lobster rolls. Sitting out on the deck, listening to the chatter of multiple languages intermingling with the familiar rhythm of harbor waves striking the heavy wooden pilings, I looked over at Sweet Pea and smiled. Our land journey has allowed us to see twice as many matches as we ever could have on the water, proving that trading the open sea for the open road was the right choice. As night begins to fall and the stars slowly claim the sky over the Atlantic, the serene harbor breeze completely removes any remaining ounce of tension from my sun-drenched body. One choice keeps me in paradise, and the other, well, keeps me in paradise. Until next time, I’m going to sit right here and get back to doing what I do best... absolutely nothing.
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