Another Modicum of Idiocy

Since Birdie was coming home last weekend and it was the first time we'd left Tucker at home AND because we didn't want Mimi to have to stay any longer than necessary (she was granddog sitting Tucker for us)--whew!--the husband and I decided to drive home after staying at the wedding reception for a couple of hours. (That's right- you don't have to be young to do dumb things).

People who are used to being asleep by 10:00 at night probably shouldn't begin a 5 hour drive home at that time. But we did. And we used the GPS on my phone to do it.

If you can tell in the photo below, the directions highlighted in BLUE is the route the husband wanted to take. It's the way we usually travel home when we're in that general area of NC. Of course, we'd never started from this particular place in NC, but still. The directions highlighted in PINK is the route mapped out for us by my GPS. They make a nice oval shape, see? And there's less than 30 minutes difference between them in the amount of time it takes to arrive home.

Which would have worked out fine. If our brains had left well enough alone.

That first stretch of road in blue- that starts near Greensboro, NC? Yeah. That's called 73 S, 220 S AND 74 E. That's right. ONE road- THREE names. The husband was not amused. And it's sort of like a 4-lane back road. No lights-except the moon. No gas stations. No hotels/motels. Just farm land. Probably really pretty during the day. Oh, and no service---or, intermittent service. At best.

So, this road goes on FOREVER and I'm not getting service. The husband continues to not be amused. He is also not amused by the signs we are seeing as to which towns we'll be traveling through...eventually. Over to my side, meanwhile, I am quietly tapping the hell out of my phone (as if that will make service miraculously appear) and yelling at it in my head. Brilliant is what I am.

FINALLY, we spot a place to pull off- it's closed, but there is light.

The husband: "I don't think this thing is taking us in the right direction."
Me: "It's just not taking us home the way you're used to going."
The husband: "I think it's taking us WAY out of our way to get home."
Me: "I think you're letting your mind focus too much on the signs instead of just letting the GPS do it's thing."
The husband: "Fine. But I think it's a piece of crap." (He really did say crap. We had not yet entered the cursing phase).

He gets back on the road and we continue on.

When we finally hit civilization, the husband's lack of amusement intensifies. Greatly.

The husband: "What the fudge (no, he did not say fudge)?! We're in (explicative) ROCKINGHAM?!
Me: (crickets)
The husband: What the hell are we doing in (explicative) ROCKINGHAM?!
Me: (crickets- but thinking: What the hell are we doing in (explicative) ROCKINGHAM?!

Meanwhile, my phone is about to die. Yep. Insult to injury. Are you wondering why I didn't just plug in into the car charger? Well, I'll tell you why I didn't just plug it into the car charger. Because DoodleBug never returned the car charger when she borrowed it to go to All Good last summer THAT'S why. So I have to go in and out of the navigation app over and over again.

The husband wants to look at a 'real' map.

The husband: "I need to look at a map."
Me: "Ok, get one when you get coffee." (This is our first stop for coffee because, up until this point, there have been zero opportunities for coffee stoppage)
The husband: "I think there's one in the side pocket of the door."
Me: "Great." (thinking to myself--what year was it made?)

He looks at the map but says little to nothing. 

The phone GPS is still telling us to stay on the same road. We're going in the right direction. I tell this to the husband who replies with, "Hrmph." Or something like that. We continue. And we're back in the middle of nowhere. To turn around would mean going back at least an hour in the other direction.

We come to another civilized area and pull into a gas station. The husband wants to look at the map. Again. Because, you know, the roads might have changed since the last time he looked.

And it is decided that we will NOT continue as per the GPS instructions but, rather, go about 50 minutes off the track and then, now get this---right down to the very town that the GPS was sending us where we would take I-95 (which is a straight shot to I-26 which is a straight shot into Charleston).

See the map below? We were in Bennettsville and just needed to head straight down to Florence and hit I-95. He wants to go over to Dillion and THEN down to Florence.    

Guess who's cursing now?

Anyway, we made it home by 3:00 am. Which was only about an hour and a half later than we should have arrived. Of course, some of this is attributed to the 4 stops for coffee. And then the stops for letting the coffee out. And let me just say, once again, that it is totally unfair that guys can pee anywhere.

Tucker was delighted to see us. Mimi---well, she had been up at 3:00 am the previous morning welcoming Birdie home so....

I was up at 7:00 am to walk Tucker and make the breakfast that DoodleBug asked me to make in honor of Birdie's arrival.

You remember DoodleBug. The one who still has the phone charger for the car? Don't worry. We have a new one now. The husband bought it during a coffee stop so I could charge my phone. Just before we got on I-95. You know, just in case.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

We had to drive 5 hours to attend the wedding on Memorial Day weekend. It was well worth the effort as a splendid time was had by all!

But, all along the way, I noticed so many signs. Of stupidity.

And not just where other drivers were concerned. The actual signs themselves were often stupid. Like the one there on the left.

Really? You have to tell people not to stop on the railroad tracks? Who doesn't know that you should NOT stop on the railroad tracks? Who doesn't know that the likelihood of getting hit by a train increases dramatically when you stop on the tracks? Who doesn't know that stopping on the tracks when a train is coming results in imminent death?

Seriously, I'm thinking that if someone is stupid enough to stop on the tracks....

And then there's the discussion between the husband and myself about the sign on the right over there.

The husband: "What the hell does that sign mean?"  
Me: "I believe it means slippery when wet."
The husband: "What, so the road is more slippery in this area than others when it's wet?"
Me: "Apparently so."
The husband: "I don't think that's what it means."
Me: "What does it mean then?"
The husband: (making 's' hand movements) "Don't drive like this."
Me: "You mean swervey?"
The husband: "Yeah. I mean, what else could it mean?"
Me: "Uh, Slippery When Wet."

I think I'm beginning to understand why they make a sign that reads, "DO NOT STOP ON TRACKS"

What I learned while on the 5 hour road trip to the wedding:

1. There are ZERO decent radio stations once you leave the Charleston area. Thank God for iPods.
2. The DOT (Department of Transportation) does not give a rat's a$$ about the gazillion pot holes and sizable cracks on I-26. 
3. Playing the license tag game is no fun without the lovelies there to play along.
4. The husband drives like we're in a car that's part of a video game being driven by a 14 year old boy.
5. Next trip will require Valium. Or a plane ticket.
6. It is DUMB to travel on a holiday weekend. 
7. Women miss the hole in the toilet in public restrooms. How that is humanly possible I have no idea but they do. And it's disgusting. If I wanted urine on my toilet seat, I would go into the men's room. 
8. The husband's driving is 100 times worse if he needs to use the restroom.
9. There is no sense in yelling at the GPS in your phone. It does not listen. I'm guessing that, even though the voice on that thing sounds like a female, there's actually a man in there. 
10. The only thing I miss about living in the upstate is the way the Kudzu looks hanging off the trees. 

Tips to a few certain people:

1. If you own a gas station near the interstate, you really should: A. Keep it clean (Not a single restroom we stopped at was clean); B. Have more than one stall in the women's room; C. Keep the toilet paper stocked; D. Have the towel option for drying hands---that blow dryer is stupid; E. Make sure the toilet seats are not broken-particularly if you insist on only having one stall in the women's room; F. Make sure the locks on the doors work; G. Make sure you have hooks on the doors for women to hang their purses/coats/whatever.
2. To the lady in front of us at Subway: Low calorie subway subs lose their low calorie status when you keep saying to the lady--with regards to the mayo--"More...more...more..." until you have about half a freaking bottle of the stuff on your sub. 
3. To the DOT: Fix the damn holes and cracks.
4. To the people in the fast lane: When the slow guy in front of you moves to the slow lane, that is your cue to speed up or move to that lane with him.
5. To the young girl in the red car: Just because you're young doesn't mean you have to be stupid.
6. To the guy in the gray truck: When the thought of changing lanes pops into your pea brain suddenly and without provocation, you should LOOK before you ACT. Moron.
7. To the DOT, again: At one point we were on ONE road. It's name was (and I kid you not)- 73 South, 74 East, 220 South. We were on one road with three names traveling in two directions. Not funny. Make up your mind.
8. To myself: no more watching of the Final Destination movies if that's all you can think of when you pass a logging truck.
9. To the DOT (yep, one more time): Why can't we have pretty flowers in the medians on SC roads like they do in NC? If we're going to have to suffer with the roads being in treacherous conditions at least we can enjoy the scenery. 

There will be more about the trip home soon...stay tuned---

Did you travel over the holiday weekend? Or did you play it smart and stay at home?

The Great Smokey Mountains, a ’67 Beetle and a Body

During my college years, my spring breaks were nothing like Beach Blanket Bingo, How to Stuff a Wild Bikini or any other bad 1960s beach movies.  [There was the Bahamas cruise during my junior year but all I did there was discover that it is a REALLY BAD IDEA to enjoy tequila shooters while tossing around on rough seas.  REALLY.  BAD.  IDEA.  REALLY.  Just take my word on this one.]  Our laid back breaks were probably due to the fact that we partied so much focused so diligently on our studies during the semester we needed spring break to recover rest.  So, the year that I flew to Tennessee to visit a friend for the week, was nothing out of the ordinary.  Our plans were to spend the week hanging out in Nashville (I had never been there before) and drive back to SC the weekend before classes resumed.  We enjoyed nice weather and exploring Nashville and, at the end of the week, we packed up Sheryl’s car and began our eight hour journey back to school.  The trip should have been pretty much uneventful, and would have been had it not been for the NEAR BLIZZARD that had suddenly decided to descend upon us through the Great Smokey Mountains (which could easily have been called to Great Ican’tseeadamnthingthroughallthisblowingsnow Mountains.  Oh, did I mention that Sheryl’s car was a ‘67 Volkswagen Beetle?  No?  Is it relevant, you ask?  Ha!  What it meant was that we cruised up those curvy mountain roads at a staggering 25 mph.  And THAT was with us leaning forward.  It also means that our 8 hour trip back to school turned into a 12 hour ride.  Of course, as college students, we pretty much took everything in stride and, once out of the mountains, (no, we didn’t think of going back…we were COLLEGE students for Pete’s sakes) resumed our uneventful return to school.  Until approximately 30 minutes from campus.    

 We were on the last stretch of two-lane road before reaching campus, just tooling along at the actual speed limit when we thought we saw something up ahead in the oncoming lane.  It was difficult to tell just what the object was because there was no visible moon nor street lights which meant that the only light hitting the road was from the ’67 Beetle.  As we got closer we were both leaning forward and squinting to see what was in the road.  Sheryl slowed the car down to a crawl so we could get a better look.  Apparently we both realized what the object was at the same time because, in unison, the screams began!  Holy Crap!  It was a body!  A male body lying across the width of the oncoming lane.  And it was NOT MOVING. At. All.  We didn’t know what to do.  Our minds were racing just as quickly as our hearts.  It’s almost comical looking back now on the ensuing conversation if for no other reason than we were shouting:          

“WHAT DO WE DO?!”

“I DON’T KNOW, GO BACK?”

“NO!”

“THEN WHAT?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

“WHAT IF IT’S A LIVE BODY? OR A PRANK?”

“WHAT IF IT’S NOT?”

We didn’t make it much further up the road when we turned around to go back and investigate.  We decided to drive slowly, but not stop.  If the body was there, we would turn around and go get the police (remember, no cell phones back then).  Almost as comical as the shouting during the first conversation is the fact that we began whispering as we got closer to the dreaded spot in the road.  We made sure the windows were closed and the doors locked as we traveled at a snail’s pace towards the place we saw the body lying.  After all, we would have to go into the other lane to drive around the body and, if it was a prank and it jumped up---well… 

“It was here, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it had to be right here.”

“Where is it now?”

“I don’t know, I don’t see anything.”

We continued our slow search until we were absolutely certain we had indeed come to and passed the exact place in the road that we had seen the body.  Sheryl turned the car around and we cruised back one more time.  Nothing.  Just the black of a night with no visible moon, the silence of two stunned college co-eds, and the putter of a ’67 Volkswagen Beetle. 

The Drive Home

The drive home from Dad's after Thanksgiving was pretty good.  There was very little traffic on the interstate (because everyone else in the Carolinas was shopping) and that made for a relaxing drive--for a change.  I'm not a fan of being in the car for long periods of time and I like driving on the interstate even less so Hubs does most of the driving once we hit the interstate.  Which leads me to the third thing I don't particularly care for---Hubs' driving.  He follows too closely to the people in front of him and follows them for over 20 minutes before finally going around them.  "Why don't you just go around them?"  "I thought they might speed up."   He has to drive in the fast lane all the way to our destination.  He doesn't keep a consistent speed, especially if his cell rings or if we are conversing or if he sees something interesting--the latter is usually followed by the car heading off in the direction of whatever it is he is looking at.  He tends to slow down once he's in someone's blind spot and when we are passing an 18 wheeler.  He speeds up when, clearly, the car in front of us has its brakes on saying, "You're not supposed to use your brakes on the interstate."  "True but, since they did, WHY DON'T YOU TRY DOING THE SAME THING?"  Followed by a quick step on said brake at the last minute.  His latest thing is to pump the accelerator making my head sway forward and backward, slowly.  "What's wrong with the car?" I ask.  "What do you mean?"  "I mean why is the car speeding up and then slowing down?"  "I don't know."  I'm seriously considering talking with my doctor about some sort of tranquilizer or nerve pill for the next trip--she is a woman with a husband...surely she will understand.

All is going well until we get on the second interstate of the trip I-26.  This one is ALWAYS  crowded no matter what the occasion.  Hubs decides he will get off and we will go the back roads!  Now, for me, this is a very good thing!  I LOVE traveling the back roads.  The scenery is better and there is hardly ever any traffic.  I'll even drive on the back roads.  What a perfect time to take some pictures.  SC is full of small, out of the way towns along lovely, country roads lined with farms, hundred+ year old trees and antebellum homes.  Since I cannot drive AND take pictures, Hubs continues the driving.  And by Hubs continues the driving I mean, we didn't stop so I could take pictures because he was driving like a bat out of hell a speed demon on a mission.  Which might have something to do with the fact that Tucker threw up on Hubs' left leg and we had to stop to get that wiped off (poor Tucky doesn't care for car trips either...apparently).  There's always next year...

Charlotte, NC from I-77- hardly any traffic.

Where we first got onto the back road...

Back on the road after the Tucker incident.

Look! NO CARS!

Still NO CARS!

The one farm house I was able to capture.

Cotton all baled and ready to go.