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Moving day. We woke, by mutual agreement the night before, to an alarm. And bright, early morning sunshine. Breaking camp went smoothly and we were on the road by 0830. We took a different route and Renee followed in the car down to Marlinton so I didn’t have to tow it. We filled up the propane, loaded the car on the dolly (in half the time as Stafford), and headed West.
219 out of Marlinton had the ubiquitous steep switchbacks but we were quickly onto the relatively spacious and flat 39 rising and falling through hamlets with names like Stamping Creek and Big Otter, old churches repurposed as used bookstores, and the Monongahela National Forest.
In Summersville we stopped at a Food Lion for produce and a break then took the 4 lane 19 up to I-79. There were traffic lights and traffic, but the challenging part of the drive was over. When we pulled onto the Interstate it was like getting upgraded to First Class in the airplane. Or at least what I imagine it would be like.
In Charleston, WV we met Justin and his step-son, Colton. They were great people and we wish them well. The way it came about: Renee and I were driving along, minding our own business, appreciating that we were on wide, albeit rough, pavement and enjoying the view of the WV capitol from our front window when an irritating beeping interrupted our journey.
I quickly traced the beeping to my TST TMPS system warning that the starboard dolly tire was experiencing a rapid deflation event. We were on a large bridge with a wide shoulder and four lanes heading in our direction. And a metric ton of traffic moving along at about warp 70.
It was not a great place to change a wheel and my toolbox was on the driver’s side. (Lesson learned.) After a quick visual inspection, we merged back onto the highway to travel (SLOWLY) the 1.25 miles to the exit at the end of the bridge. There is no thrill-ride in any amusement park anywhere that can compete with our experience limping off the highway.
We made it but the exit was tight and residential, no place to park our rig and work on the trailer so we went another mile with a smoking tire and the beep beep beep of the flashers. We found an empty parking lot near an Aldi and pulled over. Justin pulled in behind in his old Explorer with utility trailer attached.
He thought we might need help. He thought we we’d be a whole lot older - like 80s. He seemed genuinely disappointed that I had tools, a spare wheelset, and even a jack… ‘Cause he lived three blocks away and had a good floor jack. So I told him I’d be grateful if he went to get it and by the time I had the lugnuts loosened, he was back.
Colton was 2 and helped me take off the nuts, pull off the wheel, put on the replacement, and then handed me each nut to replace. I’ve met 20 year olds with less mechanical where-with-all. I was a 20 year old with less.
It didn’t take long to be road-ready again, but we stood in the hot sun chatting for half an hour. Justin’s genuine and earnest authenticity, his easy way with Colton, and the smooth flow of the conversation was another step back in time for us, reminiscent of being out running errands with our parents, bumping into someone they knew, and then spending the next hour in the soup aisle.
It was another time that something not cool turned into an opportunity to be reassured in the goodness of people. The goodness of this country’s “sons of the soil.” Another strike against my northern Virginia cynicism.
The rest of our trip was uneventful, smooth and empty tarmac coasting down from the mountains into the rolling hills of eastern Kentucky. Our new campground was only 15 minutes off the interstate, passed a few miles of strip malls, open fields with signs advertising 5 acre lots for sale, and across a muddy river. We’ll give it a chance, but our thoughts were still on the mountains. And on Justin, how our journeys intersected, and our hope he keeps on rocking step 12.
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| It wouldn't be WV without a 1 lane bridge |
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