The plan was so simple - hitch up and be on the road by first light. But by then we were way too keyed up to sleep and decided we should get on the road instead. We started to drive right then,10:00 that night.
Now, GPS can be wonderful thing and ours is a Magellan we call "Madge". It was around midnight that we respectfully asked her to find us a Wal-Mart (camping in a Wal-Mart parking lot is a time honored tradition). Little did we realize the gravity of her dark humor as she knowingly led us into “BOONDOCKING HELL”. Cunningly, she steered us toward a Wal-Mart that no longer existed all the while, gleefully toying with us in the process.
Apparently, Madge does not like working late into the night.
It was when we made the hairpin turn onto a small one-lane wooden bridge that we realized that Madge was playing with us. We were ass-deep in alligators – that is, no way to go forward and too late to go back. (Note to self: when the sign reads “No Trucks”, that means you dummy). The damage was done, there was NOT going to be a do-over.
Then from nowhere, in the middle of the night, an angel of God appeared in the form of Jimmy Rollins, a roving tow truck operator who knew trouble when he saw it and he knew that we surely fit that definition.
I mean, what are the chances of that? Jimmy stayed with us for over an hour until finally depositing us at the Wal-Mart Supercenter where we should have been in the first place and which by the way, turned out to be two shakes from the interstate (I should of known…). It didn't take Jimmy and a couple of authentic West Virginia locals long to size up the situation (the locals had seen it before), realize our options and show us the here-to-fore secret path out of purgatory. Praise Jesus, we were saved...
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