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Topic: Mountains (09/20/04)
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TITLE: THE MOUNTAIN AND THE WEDDING DRESS By Marie B. Corso 09/20/04 |
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by Marie B. Corso
It was December. My younger daughter would be married in the Shenandoah Valley area of Virginia after she completed her fall college semester. We agreed to have the wedding there because her fiancé’s family had a large dairy farm and for them, leaving to come to Florida, where we lived, created too many problems. Cows don’t wait to be milked until you get home.
My husband and I left from Florida early one warm day to go to the wedding and planned an overnight stop in North Carolina to see a friend. We would spend the night in Ashville and arrive in Virginia the following day. It was freezing cold the morning after we slept in Ashville. We had breakfast at the motel, and when we went to pack the car, we had to scrape ice off the windshield. For people from sunny Florida, condiitons like ice and snow cause you to become confused. I helped my husband and then we both went back to the room to pack the balance of our things. Each of us carried baggage to the car.
After we left Ashville, we somehow got on a wrong road. It came to a dead end and we had to choose left or right because of some detour signs. We chose the left turn. There was no indication what type road we would be facing. Slowly, the road narrowed, and it climbed, and climbed, and climbed. We could not turn around. At one point, I remember saying to my husband, “Oh, look how beautiful it is up here. You can see for miles.” There was a lookout, but several campers had pulled into the parking area and we couldn’t stop. My husband just grunted. Finally, we were at the top. My husband was unusually quiet.
Then, we began the descent. We rode brakes as other cars whizzed by us. I have been told that mountain people have no fear of running off the road. I believe that. My husband’s face got whiter and whiter and he was sweating. His white knuckles gripped the steering wheel.
I asked, “Are you worried?”
He said, “If I get off this mountain, I’ll never drive up another one.” My husband was an excellent driver, but he never liked to drive under conditions he felt were unsafe. He was worried about the brakes on our car, which was not old, but not new, either.
At the bottom of the mountain, we made inquiry about the road behind us and found out we had just traveled over Grandfather Mountain. People who drive on nothing but flat roads in Florida have no business driving on mountain roads, unless they know what they are doing.
At lunch, I asked my husband, “Did you put the brown hang-up bag in the trunk? I don’t see it.”
“No,” he said, “I thought you packed it behind the front seat.”
“Oh, no! My dress to wear to the wedding is in that bag.” I was almost screaming. I had found the perfect blue dress with draped front and pearls scattered all over it in Savannah on a spring vacation. I was sick!
“Well, there’s one thing for sure, we’re not going back over that mountain to get it.” My husband was adamant and I didn’t want him to endure that ordeal again either.
When we arrived in Harrisonburg, I called the motel. They said they would get it to UPS and it should be there in time for the wedding. When it did not arrive, I had to replace it with a dress I did not like, but being the practical person I am, I felt I wasn’t the end of the world, and at least I did have a pretty dress to wear. Actually, I wore the blue dress when my older daughter married a few years later; I did get it back. It came the day after the wedding.
When we related the story to my daughter and her fiancé, she said, “Dad, why didn’t you go back? You were just 100 miles out of your way.”
My husband and I just looked at each other. He winked. Young people just wouldn’t understand!