“Camp Dark Hollow is on route 311 – on the left side of the road ; there’s a sign at the entrance. You can’t miss it.” Reassuring words. My daughter Kathy had volunteered me to help transport some of the girl to their homes at the close of their camping week.
“And please don’t be late,” Kathy admonished me, knowing that sometimes I got involved at school and let the time slip up on me. I assured her I would be there – on time. I was confident I could find the camp. After all, we had travelled 311 frequently on trips to The Homeplace in Catawba.
But on those trips, Harry always turned off 419 at Dutch Oven Road, which leads into 311. So I did the same. What I didn’t know was one spotted the sign to Dark Hollow just before that point of entry. So I drove on, and on, and on…straining to see the sign I “couldn’t miss.”
At last I reached a sign — it said “Welcome to West Virginia” and I knew I had gone too far. So much for “You can’t miss it.”
Hours later, I finally arrived home, tired and embarrassed, to face my angry daughter.
“I was humiliated!” she said. “We waited and waited and finally the troop leader had to take all of us home. Why didn’t you come?”
I apologized to Kathy and to the troop leader, but I didn’t understand what had gone wrong until later when I accidentally discovered the entrance to the camp.
Unfortunately, this incident is not the only embarrassing moment I’ve experienced behind the wheel. One Friday in October 1973, I drove to a weekend educational conference in Alexandria. It rained all the way and I was exhausted when I arrived at the hotel. Forty-eight hours later I discovered a dead battery. I had left my lights on during the entire weekend! Fortunately, I was able to have the battery recharged.
When I paid for the service, I remarked, “I don’t know why I did such a foolish thing.”
“Don’t feel bad,” the man replied. “We even have some men who leave their lights on.”
My most embarrassing moment on the road occurred when I attended a workshop for church newsletter editors in Durham. I left Roanoke quite early in the morning, hoping to arrive in time for the opening session at 9:00, instead of staying overnight. When I saw I was leaving the city behind, I realized I had missed the exit I was supposed to take. I consulted my map of North Carolina to retrace my way downtown.
By now I was nervous and fearful of being late. At last I saw the hotel, but the streets were like a maze with a traffic circle and I could not figure how to reach it. Spotting a policeman, I lowered the automatic window of my Camry and asked directions. His instructions were clear, and took only a few minutes.
What a relief to enter the parking garage! I parked the car, grabbed my bag and my materials, and slammed the door shut, locking the vehicle. With the engine still running.
Now I was frantic. At last I found the manager and told him my problem. When he learned I drove a Camry, he shook his head.
“Don’t know if I can open it,” he said.
But he followed me to my parked car, and said in amazement, “Ma’am, your window is down.”
I had forgotten I lowered it to ask directions! Red-faced, I unlocked the door, turned off the ignition, and retrieved my key. I missed the first half-hour of the workshop.
Since my presbytery committee work last year required a lot of travel, much of it to churches in small towns, and knowing my history of mishaps, my daughter and son-in-law decided a GPS device would be a suitable Christmas gift for me. It makes getting there easy – but I have fewer stories to tell.
By Mary Jo Shannon [email protected]
