The Spiedie Fest and Balloon Rally:

The Day the Security Ropes Parted for the Tucker Inn on Wheels (Part 1)

An Early August Morning on the Front Porch, to the Tucker Inn on Wheels. It was a very early morning in early August that the whole household was awake, the coffee pot was dripping, cinnamon buns were in the oven baking. Grandma and Amber were “neighbor watching” on the front porch from Grandma’s wheelchair with Amber the dog resting right on her lap, sometimes barking just to let the neighborhood know she was on active watchman guard duty, guarding a very important person. Neighbors were filling up their front porches, as well as the sidewalks to witness the beautiful, colorful, some uniquely shaped hot air balloons as they began rising high into the sky after lifting off from the field at Otsiningo Park, a short distance across the way. The next-door neighbors were even sitting on their porch roof with coffee mugs in their hands. The neighborhood was full of excitement as this was one of the early years that it went from the Spiedie Fest to the Spiedie Fest and Balloon Rally.

We could hear the balloons getting closer from the sound of the gas flame that somewhat controlled the balloons direction and height. Of course, with this much excitement, the well-known neighborhood wheelchair brigade had to go down the sidewalk to see what was happening from different directions. A real family affair Grandpa pushing with his slide-camera slung around his neck, Amber walking proudly along the side while Grandma holds the leash tight. Paul on Grandma’s lap and Jen standing on the back of the wheelchair pipes. When all of a sudden, a balloon started creeping just over the top of the tree, close enough to be able to see and talk with the passengers before it rose traveling just above the roof top. It was a spectacular scene. Another one of our unique special times since the stroke.

Standing there on the pavement, the spark of inspiration struck. We decided to pack up the wheels; we all climbed into our family’s mobile fortress–known as the “Tucker Inn on Wheels” and take our chances. We had absolutely no idea where the road would lead us or how we would even get close to the launch field. But when you move with an attitude of gratitude, the Loving Pursuer meets you right at the perimeter. We coasted right up to the main entrance of Otsiningo Park right at that famous sign…

With my mother’s handicap sign hanging over the rearview mirror, with zero hesitation, the guard pressed a button that overrode the system, we watched in disbelief as the barriers dropped open like the Red Sea!

We were waved to the roadway that went around the outside of the park and directed to park anywhere on the grass along the road which landed us right smack in the middle of the park where all the activity was!

This was the first thing we saw, so of course the wheelchair brigade went straight to that balloon where we stood right at the open throat of the balloons, looking directly into their cavernous nylon bellies, feeling the thunderous, explosive roar of the propane burners radiating pure heat onto our skin, and holding her close as the floating giants gracefully lifted into the bright blue sky.

With all the balloons high in slow drift, we were free to walk around through all the crafts, and food places and of course the spiedies everywhere each contestant with their own secret sauce but the most famous was the Salamida State Fair Sauce.

What on Earth is a Spiedie?

You couldn’t stand on the grass line of Otsiningo Park for long without your senses being completely captured by a thick, heavenly cloud of wood smoke and a mouthwatering aroma drifting across the field. If you aren’t from Broome County, you might ask: What on earth is a Spiedie? To the rest of the world, it might just look like skewered meat. But to a native of Binghamton, a spiedie is a sacred culinary tradition and the literal flavor of home. It begins with cubes of fresh chicken, pork, or lamb, submerged for days in a heavy, secret Italian marinade packed with olive oil, vinegar, garlic, and a fierce blend of fresh herbs, Then, the cubes are skewered and grilled over live, blazing open charcoal pits until they are perfectly charred and sizzling. The magic finale is pure simplicity: you grab a single slice of soft, fresh Italian bread, wrap it directly around the hot skewer, and pull the meat straight off the iron rod. No fancy sauces, no corporate gimmicks, and no high-voltage restaurant pricing–just pure, unhurried, backyard perfection eaten right on the grass with the people you love.