By John Carlson—
“Road trip!”
If you remember, that was the clarion call which sent the guys of Delta Tau Chi en route to some comedic mayhem in the movie “Animal House.” A similar need to hit the road recently sent Nancy, Jersey the Wonder Dog, and me on our way to Shenandoah National Park’s Skyline Drive, motoring along the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
This whimsical journey proved educational, mostly in a good way.
It was “mostly” because there was some mayhem involving modern-day car travel and the fact that, in our country, about a billion jobs are unfilled. While that’s a slight exaggeration, what is a mere statistical problem becomes an uncomfortable one when the Tim Horton’s doughnut shop where you hoped to a) buy some doughnuts and b) use the restroom, turns out to now be drive-thru only.
Why? Lack of employees.
Then you motor to a Hardee’s, where the drive-thru is closed but the inside service is open. It turned out the place was packed with famished customers being served at a snail’s pace by a staff of only two poor, overstressed workers.
Why? Again, lack of employees.
It’s enough to convince you that something is pretty screwy. I mean, what are we, Russia? On the other hand, the nice thing about getting to Virginia’s Skyline Drive is its departure from our normal world. With a minimum of hassle we dined there on two delicious and promptly prepared Virginia ham sandwiches accompanied by two fresh, warm blackberry cobblers, all washed down with icy cold Naughty or Nice IPAs brewed by Devil’s Backbone Brewery.
Now, I know what you are thinking.
“Excuse me, Mister Chubster, but are delicious ham sandwiches, warm cobblers and ice cold beers all you ever think about?”
Hey, jerk, give me more credit than that! We also scored some great General Tso’s chicken from a Chinese joint (carry out only due to lack of employees) in Charlottesville.
But trust me. We also enjoyed some things that weren’t edible.
The drive out there was beautiful, with some areas at the height of their autumn colors. Also, the farther east we traveled, the more historically significant everything became. George Washington navigated these primeval forests on horseback as a soldier during the French and Indian War. British General Edward Braddock, who was a casualty of that war in 1755, is buried in a well-marked grave near the place where he fell. Approaching the park, meanwhile, old stone inns located every twenty miles or so corresponded to how far a hopeful settler could manage to hoof it in a day.
True, passing a Dollar General store amid all this history seemed a little disconcerting. Equally so were the spinning blades of wind-powered turbines topping a forested ridge on the faraway horizon. Even more disconcerting amidst all the beauty was passing a neon-lit casino, which for some reason brought to mind a trip Nancy and I made to the Grand Canyon years ago. Parked close to the canyon’s South Rim, we beheld a vision that was stunning, spectacular, bodacious and every other exclamation of admiration you’d care to come up with. Suddenly, a kid of maybe twelve or thirteen burst from the nearby park lodge, running to his father as the man unpacked the car for their stay.
“Dad!” the kid excitedly called, as I waited expectantly to hear his reaction to the unparalleled natural wonder before him. “They’ve got video games!”
“Video games?” I thought with a shudder.
But enough of that …
You entered the Skyline Drive at its northern access point in the bustling little city of Front Royal and set your course south on a climbing, descending, twisting 104-mile journey through more trees than you’ve ever seen, unless you’ve been a missionary to the Amazon.
When we arrived, the traffic was light, but soon picked up. Views of the Shenandoah Valley were amazing as we gazed down upon farms and villages, scenes that looked like 18th Century re-creations. We visitors frequently left our cars to visually feast on the sights from overlooks bearing names like Hogwallow Flats and Bacon Hollow.
For some reason, the only overlook that seemed empty when we passed was Rattlesnake Point.
Go figure, huh?
The true immensity of this forested land was mind-boggling. Taking it all in, you couldn’t help but marvel at the spirit and toughness of our ancestors, men and women who, confronted with such a rugged place, bravely set out to explore beyond what must have seemed like an endless forest fraught with danger.
Those dangers included bears, which still roam this place. If you needed convincing, all you had to do was look at the fancy bear-proof trash cans located near picnic and food-sales areas. Not only were they bear-proof, it turned out they were chubby humor columnist-proof, too, which was embarrassing. After returning to our car in a snit, my trash still in hand, Nancy walked over and casually disposed of our sandwich wrappers and cobbler bowls with no problem.
Thus it was that, with my own “Duh” moment of dismissal ringing in my ears, we eventually followed the growing line of cars heading nose-to-tail for the exit.
But much as I loved this place, with its abundant wildlife, I couldn’t stop thinking of May Swenson’s poem from the book Good Poems. It’s called “Bison Crossing Near Mt. Rushmore.” Granted, the nearest bison were half a continent away, but in her poem she describes those “orderly, disciplined” beasts moving resolutely past the stymied vehicles of frustrated motorists.
“And we keep to our line,” she wrote of the car-bound motorists, “staring, stirring, revving idling motors, moving each behind the other, herdlike, where the highway leads.”
Kind of made you wonder, who were the free ones?
John’s weekly columns are sponsored by Beasley & Gilkison, Muncie’s trusted attorneys for over 120 years.
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A former longtime feature writer and columnist for The Star Press in Muncie, Indiana, John Carlson is a storyteller with an unflagging appreciation for the wonderful people of East Central Indiana and the tales of their lives, be they funny, poignant, inspirational or all three. John’s columns appear on MuncieJournal.com every Friday.
