''I'm a man of means, by no means - King of the Road!'' - R.E.M.

Of course, the 26-foot van had a stick shift. This rendered me useless as a driver. As the Norwegians know, city-boy Rob never learned how to drive anything but an automatic transmission. So here's what would become a common sight for the next two days: Steve behind the wheel as we trucked down the I90 Interstate.

We managed to make it to Albany, the capital of New York State, by the end of the day on Sunday. We'd been joking for some time about how the two of us should really be trying harder to conform to the model of ''the offensive truck driver and his sidekick.'' While parking in Albany at 11:00PM, I suggested to Steve that we should try to be as offensive as possible by seeing how many parking spaces we could occupy.

Steve one-upped me by parking across as many spaces as he could - including two spots reserved for handicapped drivers. With Steve as my partner in crime, I was once again an offensive foreigner.

All was still well when we reached the sign that indicated we were 28 miles out of Boston. Note that these are 28 miles, not Norwegian mils or kilometers. A mile is 1.6 kilometers. Miles would be completely confusing for a Canuck if not for one little trick I've learned: speed limits on US highways are typically 55 or 65 miles per hour. That makes it easy to do highway math in your head: we were 28 miles, and thus 28 minutes, outside of Boston.

Disaster didn't strike until we got to Edgerton Hall.

This car once had a shiny white bumper. I was at the front desk checking into Edgerton when it happened. Steve didn't even feel our behemoth rubbing against the bumper, but a witness saw the accident, and there's no denying that scrape. And the hole. And stuff.

The MIT Campus Police were on the scene within minutes, and Steve bowed his head in shame when he learned what had happened. And to think we almost made it all the way to Boston in a 26-foot cube van without incident!

It turned out the car belongs to a fellow Edgerton House resident here at MIT. He and Steve have worked the problem out, and I'm grateful that I paid the extra $60 for insurance on the U-Haul van. There isn't any visible damage to the van, but the bumper on that car is going to take some work.

Well, it could have been worse - the Blues Brothers totalled dozens of cop cars on their mission from God. But imagine my shame: ''Hi, I'm Rob, one of your new residence-mates. My buddy just totalled your car with our twenty-six foot U-Haul van. But it's nice to meet you!''

Let me tell you a bit about Edgerton House, the place where I live now.

Nestled between this nuclear reactor and a candy factory, Edgerton House provides graduate students with a comfortable - if noisy - place to live just west of the MIT Campus. The worst case scenario, as Dr. Blumberg pointed out, is that I leave Edgerton with a sugar high and a radioactive glow.

(This ''No Parking'' sign, it seems, has already acquired its radioactive glow.)

The source of the noise is the candy factory, which has loading docks located just outside my bedroom window. See that gentleman? He's wearing earmuffs to keep the noise levels from the factory just short of ''dangerously high.'' I live just across the street and one floor up. Even with the windows closed, I can hear a constant hum from the factory. It gets louder around 6:30 in the morning, which should make waking up for class on time an easy task!

But all that aside, I seem to have really lucked out here. Edgerton is spacious and comfortable, with both laundry facilities and an exercise room inside the building. What's more, my (relatively) low monthly rent cheque covers utilities and both heating and air conditioning. I also have access to a warp-speed internet connection.

I have a private bedroom, and share a kitchen and living room with Trin, a gentleman I just met who's beginning his Masters degree in the school of Transportation here at MIT. Trin's a great guy, and both Steve and I couldn't believe how fortunate I am to have him as a roommate.

The first thing Steve and I did was unpack the U-Haul van, and return it as quickly as we could to the truck company. We then returned to Edgerton to crack open two bottles of Mack's Haakon Øl to celebrate. I'd brought a piece of Norway with me to Boston! Steve loved the beer; and for me, the memories of Kaffe Å Lars came flooding back.

We proceeded to abandon Edgerton with all haste. The Boston Red Sox (the local baseball team, my international friends) were playing at Fenway Park. We needed no convincing.