Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, November 13, 1994 TAG: 9411140037
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-2 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: Steve Kark
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
You see, country roads are generally peaceful enough, considering the scenery and the lack of traffic. But this type of driving has its downside as well. After you've dropped a wheel into a ditch on some isolated dirt road, you inevitably acquire a deeper awareness of solitude. Where, you might ask, is traffic when you really need it?
There you are, one minute cruising along enjoying the view, your favorite tape playing in the deck, and before you know it, you're spinnin' wheels and slimier than a mudflap at a tractor pull.
The ditch is there, hidden in the weeds at the side of the road, waiting to snatch you for not paying attention. You might have been distracted for just an instant by the harvest moon rising above a ridgeline, or by the red fox that flashed briefly in your headlights. It doesn't take much.
The ditch works its siren's charm and pulls you in for indulging these momentary distractions. Before you can react in time, you're axle deep in mud. In the dark. Alone.
The old timers will tell you that such moments build character. I hope they're right, because I remember each and every ditch as though it happened yesterday. And I'd like to think I got more out of the experience than wounded pride and dirty boots.
For instance, I once had this beat-up pickup truck that tended to slip and slide on rainy mornings, almost as though it found new life on muddy roads. Where most of the time that old truck just seemed to sag along, on those mornings it sashayed those slippery roads like a schoolgirl at a sock hop.
I'd find myself getting caught up in the spirit of the thing. It was, after all, only a lonely old dirt road. And I wasn't going very fast anyway. Who'd blame a fella for indulging in a little foolishness now and then?
Sooner or later, though, that ol' gal and I danced just a little too close to the edge of the road and WHAM, there we were, stuck in a ditch.
The spirit went right out of it then.
In an instant, the rain got colder and wetter. And the mud, part of the fun only moments before, turned into a gooey, tire-sucking pain in the neck.
Naturally, the first thing you want to do in such a predicament is jump out of the truck and pitch a fit. But after your first couple of ditches, you begin to realize that you're getting all riled up over nothing. Besides, fits are thrown for the benefit of others. What good are they when you're the only one there to appreciate them?
No, when you're stuck good, there isn't much you can do about it anyway. At such times, there's no limit to the number of sticks and rocks you can jam under the wheels: You just spin in deeper.
What you really need at a time like that is a little imagination and a good neighbor. You'll need the neighbor to pull you out, and you'll need imagination when you have to explain how you got there in the first place.
What're you gonna do? Admit you were playing in the mud? Or that you weren't paying attention?
Not on your life!
I suppose the old timers are right. It takes a lot of grit to stand there and look a man in the face while you're telling him about the imaginary bear you swerved to miss. Or about the eight-point buck that materialized out of nowhere.
A good neighbor knows you made it up. He wasn't born yesterday. Still, he'll tip back his hat, wrap a chain around your bumper and pull you out anyway.
Now that's character for you!
Steve Kark is an instructor at Virginia Tech and a correspondent for the Roanoke Times & World-News' New River Valley bureau. He writes from his home in scenic Rye Hollow, in a remote part of Giles County south of Pearisburg.|
by CNB