The Terminus of I-90: Boston

Minute Man National Historical Park, Battle Road, Lexington/Lincoln/Concord

16-18 September 2026

We made it to the terminus of Interstate 90: Boston, Massachusetts - 3,000 miles and 11 days from Wenatchee. Rather than navigate the narrow urban streets of Boston, we parked AEONrv #98 at a Hipcamp site in Lincoln, Massachusetts. From there, we took the commuter train into the city to see dear friends of mine from medical school.

Lincoln turned out to be just down the road from Minute Man National Historic Park. Concord and Lexington are also around the corner. These town names are familliar to any American schoolchild. There were many "No Kings!" signs in front yards. There is a long history in these parts of the same kind of protest. No kings then, no kings now.

In April 1775, in the first armed conflict of the American Revolutionary War, British troops on a mission to capture colonial military supplies in Concord, MA were on their way back to Boston when they met local militiamen, who had been warned and mustered by a network of overnight messengers. The first shots were fired at sunrise in Lexington, MA. The day-long battle took place along the 16 miles of the British retreat back to Boston. The Minute Man National Historical Park preserves several period buildings, and the Bay Road (now called Battle Road) where much of the fighting took place. Within the park, Battle Road Trail is 5 miles of gravel path and interpretive displays marking key events of that historic day.

In school, I’d gotten the standard history lessons about the Boston Tea Party, the famous midnight horseback ride of Paul Revere, and the Battle of Lexington and Concord. The narrative invariably featured the good guys (American patriots) against the bad guys (British soldiers), the brave innocents fighting against the murderous invaders. As I pedaled my bike along the gravel of Battle Road, I see that reality is more complicated. Depending on the perspective, one person’s revolution may be another person’s riot. One person’s brave act of patriotism is another person’s act of anarchy. 

I am for the American colonists, who died to defend their farms and homes and families. I felt also for the British soldiers who died doing their duty, ordered on a mission by a King and politicians 3,000 miles away. Their unmarked graves dot Battle Road, sometimes with a memorial noting that "near here are buried British soldiers." Perhaps this is why the account of schoolmaster James Hayward and the unnamed British Regular at Fiske Hill is so compelling. As the story  goes, when they ran into each other, the British soldier cried “You are a dead man,” and Hayward replied, “and so are you!” They fired at each other simultaneously, and both died. 

At the Hartwell Tavern, a restored 18th century home and tavern on Battle Road, we met 3 Revolutionary-era reenactors. There were no other visitors, so we stayed for a chat. As they told the story of the building and its role in the social and political life of the day. We talked about the grievances of the Colonists and the escalation of tensions that eventually led to the confrontation of April 19, 1775. It occurred to me that if you changed the names of the opposing sides, and the era and location, this story could be anywhere, at any time. 

For a moment, 3 men in breeches and tricorne hats, and the 2 of us in cycling kits and helmets, stood in contemplative silence, reflecting on how history feels so close. We live in our own era of passions and grievances, strife and patriotism, fear and courage. It's so very human.