blue artichoke

It was the best of drives; it was the worst of drives. Mostly the worst of drives.

My trip to my mom’s yesterday was fraught with setbacks. The first came about a half-hour down the road when I looked down and realized I didn’t have my purse –no wallet, no money, no license, whoops! I turned around and headed home to fetch my purse. Trip to my mom’s, round two, began an hour and 15 minutes later. About 45 minutes down the road this time, I was pulled over for doing 77 in a 55 (luckily, I had my wallet then!). The cop wrote it down as 70 and gave me a warning; thank goodness I’m totally cute and charming.

I stopped in St. Louis to pick up a case of wine and snacks; in Trader Joe’s a little girl followed me around, asking for a red & white balloon. The cashier told her I wasn’t an employee, and she ran off. I remained puzzled for the rest of the day.

Soon after I left St. Louis, the sky turned dark and the air dusty. Trees blew all over the place. I called GC to ask him to check the weather radar, thinking I might be driving right into a tornado or big storm. He confirmed a storm to the north/east of me, but thought I’d miss it when I turned south at Mt. Vernon, IL. Satisfied that I would miss the brunt of the storm, I settled back to enjoy it. The sky was eerie and beautiful, the air full of debris and cars alternately reckless and over-cautious. Suddenly, my rearview mirror started shaking and shimmying, focusing now on the backseat, now the sky. I tried to tighten it, but couldn’t get a good look at it, so left it alone and looked for an exit. Before I found an exit, the whole thing just fell off, dangling by a wire. Oh, crap. The sky was still dark, traffic erratic, and I was trying to drive while holding up my rearview mirror. No wonder in the midst of all this, I missed the split for I-64. I continued on I-70, oblivious to my mistake, until traffic thinned and I had an opportunity to pull onto the shoulder and fix my rearview mirror. That done, I kept driving until I realized that instead of signs for Mt. Vernon, I was seeing signs for Indianapolis. Oh, crap. I pulled out my atlas and found the closest connection to I-64 (Effingham), and continued driving straight into the storm that I would have bypassed had I not missed my exit earlier. There was a wonderful lightning show, close, in the distance, and on both sides of the Interstate. And then the sky opened up and rain poured. Traffic crawled. Once I reached Mt. Vernon (now 6 hours after I first started on this trip, usually a 3-hour drive!), the rain stopped, the sky cleared and the temperature, which had plummeted to 68° in the midst of the storm, rose to 101°. I got back on the correct road and it was fairly smooth sailing from that point on. I did, however, see a wreck when the car in front of me plowed into the back of the car in front of it on an exit ramp.

I also had a tense half hour when a motorcyclist – who didn’t wear a helmet or sunglasses (I have no idea how he kept his eyes open at 70 mph) and drove one-handed – kept pace with me. Motorcyclists make me very nervous. I always imagine them tripping on some road debris and falling right under my tires. Gruesome. No matter how fast I drove or how much I slowed down, this guy kept pace right alongside me, driving on the edge of his lane, close to my car. I was white knuckled until he finally exited. Whew! I rolled into my mom’s driveway exactly 12 hours after my first false start from home, road-weary and exhausted, but safe and intact.

Tonight’s adventure will take me to Atlanta, with Blue Grilled Cheese and Purple Pasta. We’re celebrating my 30-½ birthday. Details on Sunday.

Getting to Know All About You: Tell me one of your road trip stories.