On the Road to Valdosta—Chapter 6—The Journey II

I had forgotten to mention earlier, but sort of at the last minute, my dad decided to go with us. First, he thought we might could use an extra driver, and second, he has never been known to miss a road trip unnecessarily. He was going to drive his truck and leave it at Memphis, then fly back from Jacksonville to Memphis. Now the stage is truly set for this chapter.

So early on Wednesday, October 24, 2001, Stacy, Kaitlyn and Shelby take off in the van for Jonesboro. (I said Thursday in the last chapter, but I missed a day somewhere.) Dad and I are going to follow a little bit later. Remember the mums? Well, we had mums everywhere. There were mums in the cab of my truck which was on the trailer being pulled behind the U-Haul, and there were mums in the cab of the U-Haul. We had loaded them up the night before so they would be ready to go bright and early. It had gotten a little cool on Wednesday night, but Thursday dawned bright and clear. About 10:00 that morning, we took off. I was in the lead with the U-Haul, and Dad and Benjamin were following in his truck. A fortunate sequence of events then unfolded.

That truck was loaded, and there were several significant hills between Thayer and the Black River. I made the decision to take the back roads. Yes, they are hillier and curvier, but the traffic is a lot lighter, and I really didn't want to compete with the 18-wheelers on US 63 loaded as we were. Besides, it's a bright, beautiful morning and we're not in any hurry. Well, we made it through Myrtle, MO and turned south into Arkansas. (I challenge you to find Myrtle on your maps.) Just past Elm Store, AR (OK, so you found Myrtle, but I'll bet you can't find Elm Store), coming down the big hill towards Woody's* I began feeling a funny vibration. And it wasn't in the truck, it was in my left pant leg.

That's right. My pant leg.

Remember those mums?

Yup, a bee had found its way up my pant leg. I slammed on the brakes and stopped that big ole U-Haul right where it was with Dad screeching to a halt right behind me. I set the brakes (still on the big hill right before Woody's, you know; it's a really long hill), opened the door, jumped out, and proceeded to de-pants myself right there in the middle of the road. Dad, thinking I'm on fire or something, is now running up to me screaming, "What's wrong!? What's wrong!?" Me? I'm ignoring him and looking for that bee. The little bugger finally made it out the top of the pants (which are now down around my ankles) and just flew away. I calmly pulled my pants up, looked around at dad and said, "Bee." Then I climbed back in the truck, drove off, and left him standing there in the middle of the road laughing. Fortunately, there were no cars or houses anywhere around, but just in case anyone had witnessed it, I wasn't planning to stick around to discuss it. If we had taken US 63 instead of the back roads, there's no telling what would have happened.

After we left the mums at Israel and Christa's in Jonesboro, we sort of split up. Stacy and Dad took off for Memphis to drop off his truck. I didn't want to get off the main road, so I went on without them. Of course, by the time I got to Oxford, they had almost caught me and it was almost dark. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Judy live a couple of miles to the east of Oxford, and we were all wiped out by the time we got there. Uncle Charlie and Aunt Judy have lived in Oxford for as long as I can remember, and likewise, we have been visiting them and going to church with them there as long as I can remember, the point of which is that there were a lot more people at church that night who knew who I was than I knew who were. But, now there were 400 miles down, 400 to go.

On Thursday morning, Uncle Charlie felt the need to entertain. He kept his horses busy giving rides to the kids for quite a while. I'm not even sure what time it was that we finally pulled out, but it was fairly late. And then, of course, we hit Birmingham at rush hour. We had drawn a line on the map from Southern MO to South GA and were accordingly headed down the straightest/shortest route possible. I think we ended up topping the hill there by Chelsea, AL doing all of 25 M.P.H. Not fun. Then, I remember getting to Alexander City, AL at about dark and eating at Captain D's, then hitting the road again. Opelika was as far as we could go. We got a couple of rooms at a motel there, a Ramada Inn if I recall correctly, and slept like logs. 750 miles down, 150 to go.

As I had mentioned earlier, this was before cell phones were so common. It was also after CB radios were popular (thankfully). That left us using a pair of walkie-talkies to communicate while traveling. And they worked most of the time. Benjamin sure did love those walkie-talkies. We still have them around somewhere. They're probably in his room.

Meanwhile, there were other communications going on. Every moment that Stacy and I managed alone (both of them, I think), we would find ourselves asking each other, "WHAT ON EARTH ARE WE DOING?" Were we out of our minds? What were we thinking, going that far off into a town we had only visited once officially (remember, we snuck into town that week later), and moving into the midst of people we did not know at all? It was different when we moved to Berryville. Not only were we only about 3 hours from familiar friends and family, we were completely familiar and comfortable with Ozarkians. I'll tell you, I now have a lot greater appreciation for Abraham.

But we pressed on. On Friday morning, I was ready to leave at sunrise, but I was alone. Everyone else wanted to dilly-dally around. We ended up going to Waffle House and eating a big breakfast, then we had to find gas, etc., etc., etc. I think it was lunchtime before we got to Albany. It was just one of those days where we weren't going anywhere in a hurry. I mean, seriously, Opelika to Valdosta? A hop, skip, and a jump, but we took all day. Of course, there were diversionary stops along the way. The truck stop in Richland, GA: do NOT go there. Nastiest place I think I've ever been in. Then, something dad had eaten for lunch didn't really agree with him, and we ended up looking for a bathroom in Doerun. Have you ever looked for a bathroom in Doerun? No, didn't think so. You already knew there was no point.

What, you might ask, were we doing in Doerun? Well, we had made it that far without getting on an interstate, and I was not ready to begin at that point. However, when we finally rolled into Lowndes County late that afternoon, we did get onto I-75 and go south to exit 11, then up Madison Hwy. to the church building. Why, you will surely ask, did we go that way? Elementary, my dear Watson. I knew I could find the church building that way, and it was no time to be experimenting.

When we pulled up, I was ready to begin unloading. I think, you know, there was always that thought in the back of my mind that as long as the stuff was still on the truck, we could turn around and go west** again. But, no, that's not the way things work. We were taken home with Pansy and Wendell Spearman. And we were quite tired. I never even heard the train.

On Saturday morning, my wish was granted: we got to unload. I'm really sorry, but I don't remember who all was here helping. I know there were a lot of ladies cleaning, and I do remember Tom and Randy doing a lot of heavy lifting. Then, about mid-morning, Dad took off with Bill Newcomb for Jacksonville to catch his flight. I remember not even really getting to say goodbye to him, everything was so hectic. Then it was like, "He's gone and we're stuck here now."

There is much more I could write. I could tell of the kitten fiasco, the U-Haul re-turn u-turn, or any of many other unexpected problems which crept up along the way, but it is time to wrap this up. On Saturday, October 27, 2001, we slept in our own beds in the house here and haven't looked back. That was the beginning.

Thanks for seven wonderful years.

 

*Woody's Canoe Rental is a local landmark establishment in Dalton, AR and probably worthy of its own chapter. Little piece of advice: DON'T RIDE WITH WOODY!!!! Having said that, Woody's looked closed when we last drove past it back in June. Sad. The world is probably safer, but sad.

**It became my opinion while in school at Memphis that there are a whole lot more differences between the folks from the east and west of the Mississippi River than there are differences between the folks from the North and South. All of this talk about the Yankees and everything…go spend a few days in Colorado or Oklahoma and try to compare those folks to somebody from Indiana or Ohio or even New York (outside of NYC). You will find you have more in common with these "Yankees" than you do the Westerners. But please don't misunderstand me. I firmly believe that there may someday soon again be a need for all those discarded "The South Will Rise Again" bumper stickers. That, however, will have to be saved for another blog entry.