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.

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.

Dominique is safely tucked away at Indiana State University.

Toni prepared for the trip by printing out directions from MSN Maps & Directions.

The trip out was described as covering 693.5 miles, requiring an estimated total time of 10 hours, 14 minutes.

The return trip, on the other hand, was pegged at 650.6 miles in 9 hours, 58 minutes.

If these estimates were anywhere near accurate, the good folks at MSN must have figured that we could do the extra 43 miles in 16 minutes. For those of you counting, that’s about 172 miles per hour.
West Virginia may be Wild and Wonderful but, not that much!

It was the estimates that were wild. It took us 14 hours to get from Gordonsville, Virginia to Terre Haute, Indiana. Even subtracting the 2.5 hours of rest stops, the trip is at least an hour and a half longer.

As for the return trip, we took a leisurely 19 hours, including over 4 hours of breaks and at least an hour of circling the fair city of Dayton, Ohio.

Just for fun, take a vicarious romp with us and please be ready to answer some burning questions:

• What could possibly be uglier than entering Kentucky from Huntington, West Virginia?
• What gorgeous, leafy green crops spread like emerald waves on either side of Interstate 70 in Indiana (between Terre Haute and Indianapolis)?
• How in the world do you get to Keowee St. in Dayton, Ohio?

Thursday, 7:30 pm, Mom, Dad and Nique get on Interstate 64 West

Thursday, 9:27 pm, we cross into West Virginia and, we’re about to find out why they call themselves Wild and Wonderful!

Thursday, 11:57 pm, after ascending and plunging through the mountains, oohing and aahing at the splendor of dark shapes and the proximity of the moon, we pay the second of two tolls

Friday, 1:47 am, we cross into Kentucky. The thrill of visiting a new state is marred by the unsightly industrial vista – is that oil refineries, or the distilleries (South Philadelphia, Pennsylvania has a similar blight on I-76)

Friday, 3:46 am , Fog! This is NOT fun. The locals are zipping by, way over the posted 70 MPH speed limit.

Friday, 7:00 am, we cross into Indiana

Friday, 9:45 am (approx), we arrive at Indiana State University.

Friday, 10 am – 7:00 pm, we get Dominique situated

Friday, 7:30 pm, Mom and Dad head back.

We spend the rest of daylight in Indiana and reach Ohio after dark (we stopped logging times)

At some point, the directions instruct us to do all sorts of things with the van, some of which are unnatural.

The intention was to get us on to US route 35 East by getting off the main drag, looping around a local road and aiming in the general direction of Xenia, OH:

• At exit 33a, take Ramp (RIGHT) onto I-75 / Dayton
• At exit 54C, turn LEFT onto Ramp towards Ohio State Route 4 (SR-4) /Webster St.
• Take Ramp (LEFT) onto SR-4 towards SR-4 / Springfield

So far, so good …

• Take Ramp (RIGHT) onto N Keowee St towards Keowee St
• Bear RIGHT (SOUTH) onto SR-4 [N Keowee St]
• Bear RIGHT (SOUTH) onto (N) Keowee St
• Bear RIGHT (South) onto Ramp towards US-35 / Xenia

That doesn’t work. At. All.

We try three times, doubling back and re-reading the instructions, chewing up the 50 mile savings in the process. We wind up on Leo Street, where I stop inside the convenience store to learn that US 35 is “right up that street and over the bridge”.

Whatever. MSN maps suck.

The absolute lowlight of this trip occurs after we get onto US 35:

Imagine your dining room table with a piece of thread running its length. Now, imagine that you are a crumb, creeping along this thread at 65 MPH.
After one hour you, the crumb, have moved perhaps six inches. You don’t know it yet, but there is nothing on this road for another 9 inches!

And you are tired. Dead tired. Pull-over-to-the-side-of-the-road-and-sleep-for-three-days tired.

Somehow, we get through this desolate strip of concrete and see a glorious blue sign: REST AREA ONE MILE.
It is Saturday, 1:30 am.

Saturday, 5:00 am, slightly chilled and thoroughly refreshed, we saddle up, turn on the heat and drive…

Shortly after sunrise, we enter West Virginia and vow to get a GPS device for the next trip.
Within a half hour, we slip into some serious fog. We’re still on US 35 East, but we only see white lines and oncoming headlights.
The nice trucker behind us maintains a safe distance all the way to I64. There are periods of clarity, during which we see rustic country scenery and the biggest grain silos ever.

Once we hit I64, we get to see the West Virginian mountains by day. Wow.

Saturday, 2:15 pm (approx) We’re home.