It was going to be a quick trip, but one that had to be made. There were graduates, young and younger, who we needed to see, in person, walk down to the podium to receive their diplomas.
The route back home was one I was looking forward to because it was different from the one I took when I came to this new place. We set out on our journey in the wee hours of the morning. Neither of us enjoy driving in the dark, but the timing could not have been any more perfect. As the sun began to rise, we were climbing the first foothill into the mountains of West Virginia.
What an awesome sight to behold! The view was nothing short of magnificent. One could see for miles across a valley dotted with the lights of small mountain towns. The sun was just beginning to crest on the far side of the valley and its morning rays painted the sky in hues of yellow and orange.
As we made the ascent further into the Appalachian Mountains, we knew the old saying, 'what goes up, must come down', would come into play.....and so it did. My husband was behind the wheel and mastered the descents, winding road and hairpin curves. I took in all the breath takings views and marveled as to how in the world anyone ever crossed these before there was a highway that cut a swath in what surely can be called God's country. We went through two tunnels and to see the mountain peaks above them was a reminder of what feats man can accomplish if he sets his mind to something.
To drive across a portion of this great country is the very best way to see how quickly the landscape can change. Before we knew it, the mountains had turned back into foothills and the foothills gave way to the flat rolling plains of the Midwest.
Our trip back was actually three fold. We had graduations ceremonies to attend, a grandson that would be returning with us for a visit and two vehicles to bring back on the return trip. The combined ages of the two vehicles adds up to 76 years old. Most people, in their right mind, would not attempt a thousand mile journey in such old automobiles, but my husband assured me, and reassured me, they would make the trip just fine.
He drove his chariot with the grandson in tow and I drove the little black truck with the ever so entertaining Jack Russel Terrier, Runtly, as my co-pilot. The return trip would take two days because I wanted our grandson to have the experience of the mountains in the light of day. The little black truck began to periodically backfire about 30 miles into the first leg of the trip, but otherwise, ran smoothly. As I drove across the prairie, popping like a firecracker, I prayed that the guardian angels assigned to me, would keep the truck running.
As we headed into the mountains on the second day, I discovered that it was much easier to take in the beauty of this place whilst being a passenger. There isn't much time for viewing the sights when you have the death grip on the steering wheel and navigating traffic filled with folks headed home from a long holiday weekend. I kept my eyes glued to the road and hoped no one thought I was firing a gun at them as I snap, crackled and popped through the high hills and low hollows.
Just as we reached the foothills that looked out over the above mentioned valley, the little black truck decided it had had enough. At nearly 80 mph, it quit. It did not cough, sputter or anything of that matter.....it just quit.
The sides of the road, where one can pull over and off the main lane of traffic, are not near as wide in the mountains as they are in the flat lands. The only saving grace to getting completely out of the lane was the fact that there was an exit ramp coming up. It gave way to a bit more room, but stepping out of the truck meant placing my feet in the driving lane.
So, there we sat, traffic whizzing by at break neck speeds and not a clue as to what to do next. I hoped that this mountain experience did not scar my grandson for life, but he seemed to be fine......but of course, the vehicle he was in was still running.
A few minutes went by and then a white truck with flashing lights pulled up behind us. He worked this section of highway just for the purpose of helping people in need. He was indeed an angel.
The little black truck had to be towed to a neighboring town and the auto parts store just happened to be open on Memorial Day. It seemed the whatchamacallit in the thingamajig had gone bad. My husband was able to get the part, fix the problem and within two hours we were back on the road, little black truck running like a charm.
If you ever get the chance to drive through the state of West Virginia and the Appalachian Mountains, take it. You will not be disappointed . Just make sure, before you leave, to check the whatchamacallit.
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