Sheldon and I traveled from Virginia to Terre Haute, Indiana to pick up Dominique from Indiana State University. The first afternoon, we were sitting outside at the Morton Travel Plaza in West Virginia, eating sandwiches, playing chess and feeding the birds.
Two days later, the three of us were huddled in the van and the West Virginia National Guard was rescuing stranded travelers, handing out blankets and feeding us.
Let’s pick up the story as Sheldon, Dominique and I head into West Virginia from Kentucky …
Friday Afternoon
Since the beginning of the trip, Sheldon, as my navigator, had been following the winter storm forecasts. We thought we had a good chance of beating Mother Nature if we didn’t take any extended rest breaks. A slight drizzle dulled my sense of urgency.
We were making good time, speeding (legally) through Kentucky in just over four hours. Shortly after crossing the Ohio River into West Virginia, Sheldon began reporting that the storm was approaching more quickly than originally forecast.
Friday Night
As we travelled east into West Virginia, the rain became more insistent. I still kept saying to myself, “Is this all there is?” I got an answer in short order.
We had just paid the first of two tolls on the West Virginia Turnpike when the raindrops morphed into humongous cottonballs of frozen confection. Visibility went to zero, as the snowflakes pounded directly into the windshield.
Within minutes, the road was covered. Driving became so treacherous that, at one curve, I started to fishtail. As I struggled to maintain control of the mini-van, another van appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to occupy our exact same location in space-time. Not cool. I beeped, swore and shook my fist as we narrowly avoided a collision. The driver, who may have been oblivious to our presence, muscled past and disappeared into the gloom.
Thus shaken and drowning in adrenaline, I chose to get off the Turnpike when I saw snowplows behind us and an exit just ahead. Having no idea what was in store for us, I naïvely assumed that we would return to the Interstate once the snowplows had passed.
Exit 74 came up and we got off. In a confused state, I wasn’t sure how to get back on to the Turnpike. So I took the default path – straight ahead. This led directly back onto the Turnpike. Oddly enough, several snowplows were just completing a run and several vehicles were behind them. (Where did they come from?)
I merged into traffic, following behind an 18-wheeler and a little Honda SUV. While all this was going on, I was rapidly calculating our chances of becoming a traffic statistic. I knew we were never going to make it home in this storm.
Suddenly, my favorite blue sign came into view: Rest Area, 1 Mile. That was it, we were going to sit this one out. The 18-wheeler and the Honda had the same idea. We all rolled into Rest Area 69.
Saturday Morning
Dawn broke gray as the snow continued to fall. We had our quilts and snacks and we had already ventured out to the bathrooms overnight. As the magnitude of the storm hit me, I knew I wanted to capture the experience.
My camera’s batteries were dead. As I stood outside, trying to get just one picture, I caught the eye of the trucker behind me. Gesturing and pointing at my camera, I got him to roll down his window. I asked him if he had any batteries. He sure did. All of these pictures were made possible by Chuck:
Armed with fresh batteries, I boldly sought out fellow travelers, took pictures, shared stories and generally had a great time. Their stories are personal, but they gave me permission to share their pictures:
Pete, Barry and Buffy
Mike and his sons Darryl and Mark
This was the view from our van
Good advice
Trucks, trucks and more trucks!
Is that a snack shop?
Closed due to storm
We’re not going anywhere
The “Little Honda”
Saturday Afternoon
We had been running the car engine off and on for hours. Now, we tried to huddle up under our quilts and save some gas. Surprisingly, the temperature was rather mild. Sheldon and Dominique worked on their laptops. I worked on a logic puzzle.
Sheldon, working on a super-secret project
Dominique, working on another super-secret project
Me, tired but cheerful.
Occasionally, I would go out to the rest room area, where the truckers were hanging out. I was trying to find out when the Turnpike would be reopened. Nobody knew. I was a bit worried about food. We had to toss out some lunchmeat that we had since Thursday. We did not have a cooler with us, this trip. All we had left were chocolate bars, Doritos and shredded wheat.
Saturday Night
The West Virginia National Guard came through with blankets, chips and Gatorade.
Three wonderful National Guardsmen
Some Department of Transportation workers gave some gasoline to our friend in the Honda. He had been running his engine, too.
Sunday Morning
Finally, trucks began to leave. The one in front and to the right of us pulled out and the little Honda SUV tagged along. Unfortunately, the car got stuck in the snow. We pushed him out four times before he gave up and got a shovel from the rest area attendant.
Not so fast …
We had one more bit of drama once we got on the road. As I tried to accelerate past 40 miles per hour, the engine whined and started smelling like burnt dinner. We pulled over to the shoulder. Luckily, a savvy motorist pulled over, offered to call roadside assistance and explained that we had probably burned up all the oil from running the engine! She was right, and after adding my last quart of oil to the engine, everything was fine.
Dominique took a picture of Sheldon and some scenic shots of the West Virginia snowscape:
We got home in time to see the Falcons beat the Jets.
