…if it’s January this must be Tennessee

29 Jan

…When Dorothy said “I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore Toto”  boy was she ever right on that one…

Well, we aren’t in South Carolina either and like they use to say, ” it’s snowing here like a son of a b$#ch.  Well, maybe they didn’t really say that, but it is snowing and yep, you guessed it,  I’m on the road again.  Just when I thought I had gotten maybe halfway into winter acceptance mode of being less than nomadic for a bit longer, we get a call and in two days were packed and hitting the trail for a couple of weeks.

Now the weathermen on Television, Cable and Radio assured us that the bad weather heading our way would not hit the area to which we were driving till early evening, so at the crack of dawn we were up and motoring down the hi and bye ways, hot footing it to insure arrival at our final destination prior to the predicated advancing “weather event” as they now call these storms.   (sidebar:  Who are “they” and do they actually pay them to think up these  monikers?).    Twenty-five  miles from our hotel, the sleeting started and the temperature plummets 25 degrees and even the Truckers started backing it down.  Crawling up and down mountain Interstates, surrounded by huge diesel  engines straining in 2nd gear had my teeth on edge.  With my happy look ( frozen on my face)  and white knuckles hidden on the door handle ,  you never would even imagine  that I was concerned about the ice perhaps forming across the many bridges and overpasses we were encountering.

One of the many great things about traveling together is that “he” gets to drive the long haul freeway portions.  I  don’t normally “do” Interstate Highways as I tend to lolly-gag , trying to watch the scenery and all.  This makes him nuts, so with him at the wheel we kept tracking north,  at least making progress towards our hotel and not sitting by the side of the road waiting for it to “blow over”, which is where we would probably still be if I had been driving.

Well we slid into town only about and hour  behind schedule and got one of the last two rooms at the hotel.  Evidently there were other white knuckled drivers out there that instead of heading to their supposed destinations, opted to tuck it in for the day, early…very early.

So here we are, in the mountains of Tennessee.  Once again, somewhere I haven’t been, which as I say is not surprising as I haven’t been more places than I have.   So from my window I can see the outside elevators on the Marriott and the temperature sign on the Convention Center next door says 31 degrees and out on the Interstate, well, it’s pretty much a parking lot.  A well lit parking lot, which if you watch for a few moments sorta reminds you of an old fashioned slide show.  Images creep in slow motion and cars and trucks seem to just change places under a fog of white.

Hopefully everyone will end up at  destination that they wanted to find sooner rather than later.  The city will hunker down while the “winter event” blows through tonight.  We’ll eat dinner in ( I pack for the journey, remember the whole “girlscoutbeprepard” thing) and will enjoy sleeping in a little later in the morning.  Planned training tomorrow may start out slow as stragglers who couldn’t make it up the mountain come wandering in from the cold.

It’s all good.  I’m out and about and itching to explore on my time off.

Now where did I pack my long johns?

1 Comment

Posted by on January 29, 2010 in humor, road warrior, travel


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One response to “…if it’s January this must be Tennessee

  1. Ann

    January 30, 2010 at 10:27 am

    Hi Margaret,
    I enjoyed getting caught up on your postings. I had lost the web address so thanks for sending it again. I’m glad you arrived safely and hope your trip goes very well. Nathan said they are going to get about of foot of snow, unusual for Asheville. He and his roommates went shopping to prepare for being shut in, something I think they did not do the other time a big snow event occurred. Nothing much new on our end. Will keep in touch. Do drive carefully. Love, Ann


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