A moment's whim leads to a weekend on the road again

I took a road trip last weekend — the spontaneous type that throws caution to the wind and is planned on a moment’s whim.

I credit my best friend Kris for this impromptu getaway, a trek into the Virginia wilderness that was devised in an hour’s time. Her weekend proposition came by way of a text message that Friday afternoon.

“U want 2 meet 1/2 way this w/end?” asked my Pittsburgh, Penn., friend.

Within minutes, Kris had e-mailed me links to Luray Caverns and Natural Bridge, mid-point locations that, according to their websites, provided scenic settings for a weekend away from home.

As the workday gave way to 5 p.m., I drove home to grab my always ready travel bag.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mama asked as I scurried out the back door, my faded green bag slung over my shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” I hollered back as I flung the patch-covered bag into my Ford Escape. “I’ll be back by Sunday.”

“Oh, Lord,” Mama sighed, shaking her head as I backed out of the driveway and waved goodbye.

Now, Mama and Daddy gave me a GPS last year for Christmas. So thanks to these jolly ol’ elves, I simply typed my destination — the budget-friendly Cardinal Motel — into my GPS. But I failed to do something all GPS-dependent drivers should do – examine the satellite-generated route.

As the sun set over I-95, I listened to my favorite road trip CD’s.

“On the road again!” I sang along with Willie Nelson. And as I belted out his famous chorus, I exited I-95 and began a 30- mile stretch on Virginia Hwy. 3.

My night vision’s not the best, so I was thankful for the few outlying businesses on that otherwise lonesome highway. Truth be told, I was dependent on them and, likewise, the headlights of passersby.

Yet a few miles into that route, both businesses and oncoming traffic disappeared.

“Uh, oh,” I said, calling Kris to check on her whereabouts.

“I’m out in the middle of nowhere,” Kris replied as she described her desolate route. “And I’ve still got a few hours to go.”

“I’ll call you back in a bit,” I said, ending our call – unaware I was bidding my best friend farewell for the remainder of my drive.

I lost cell phone service soon thereafter.

All signs of civilization disappeared as my Ford Escape edged its way into the Virginia mountains.

“What in the devil!” I said as my vehicle was swallowed into the bowels of no man’s land. Its engine roared a boondocks ballad as it continued to climb those unlit, winding mountain roads. I leaned onto the steering wheel, squinting at the unmarked path before me.

Driving that backwoods route was tantamount to riding a recoiling boa constrictor while blindfolded. I rode that snake until I it slithered into the Shenandoah Valley and finally arrived at the Cardinal Motel.

“How was your drive?” I asked Kris as she greeted me in Room 112.

“Terrible!” she hollered back.

Later that night, we piled onto my bed to study our respective routes via Google maps. It was then that we learned our GPSs had forgone a conventional interstate course for an adventurous cruise across the Blue Ridge mountain range. Despite the danger of that late night drive, we both agreed it was thrilling. In fact, it was downright fun.

The next two days were a fast track through wooded trails and area caves, where waterfalls and rock formations provided the scenic setting promised in Friday’s Internet marketing claims.

Yet all great getaways must come to an end.

“I’ll see you soon,” I smiled as I said goodbye to my best friend.

“We’ll do this again!” she replied.

And with that we drove our separate ways — Kris to Pennsylvania and me to North Carolina — forgoing conventional freeways for those backwoods Virginia roads.