I never held any illusions of January 2 being my favorite day. I mean, my schedule included dropping Pawley at a kennel, getting a Typhoid vaccine, and driving 438 miles. It wasn’t the best.
But I couldn’t have foreseen quite how ridiculous the day would get. Around 4:30 I picked up my friend Jenn in Charlotte to drive to DC. Around 6 we commented that maybe we’d stop soon for gas and a snack. We were laughing then and speaking casually of things like food and fuel. Those were such idyllic moments.
Around 6:15 we noticed a few snow flurries. “Oh look,” we said. “It’s snowing!” Around 6:17 said flurries became a downpour and began sticking to the ground. It was 17 degrees outside. And we were on curvy mountain roads in the middle of nowhere. Around 6:19 my car began sliding around on the road. So, I pulled over/slid over onto the shoulder and put the car in 4 wheel drive. Which is when I noted that we needed gas. Badly. We had 22 miles left to empty. The next exit was eight miles away. I pulled onto the road, noting that we should get off as soon as we could.
And then traffic came to a total and complete stop. For two and a half hours. The temperature dropped to 15 degrees. Every time we’d turn on the car, the gas would dwindle. So, we piled on coats and shivered. Jenn fantasized about heat. I fantasized about buying out an entire gas station’s food supply.
Oh, and on top of the ongoing fear of being forced to trudge through what could only be described as an apocalyptic blizzard for sustenance, we were also parked right next to an 18-wheeler full of hogs. After about half an hour of us being stopped, they began to get antsy. Things quickly escalated to what sounded like a Sasquatch and T-Rex in an all out brawl in the truck next to us. Jenn put her hands over her ears and announced that this horrific noise would dominate her nightmares for the rest of her life.
There were other lows. Like when a very large, very old woman got out of the car two feet in front of us and dropped her pants in front of a billion headlights to pee on the side of the road. But there were also highs. Like when Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” came on the radio and I felt like I could totally relate because I had a real fear of dying of hypothermia just like Jack and also because, you know, my heart will go on. It was inspirational.
Eventually we made it to a gas station. And a Wendys. And heat. And it was glorious. We gave making it the rest of the way our best shot, but gave up around 2 and stopped at a hotel for the night. I can’t say it was my favorite drive, but it was memorable. Memorable enough that I won’t be taking that mountainous route to DC again until May. Actually, possibly July. One can’t be too careful when it comes to risking spending two hours in a blizzard with fighting pigs.
