Roadtrip, Day 1

Day 1: Sunday

Charlotte, NC 9:18 am

The trip that could officially define the transition of our lives from children to adults has finally begun. We have quite a long journey ahead of us, and that includes the drive we have ahead of us today: a 5.5 hour one to the Shenandoah Valley. Preston's going to be doing most of the driving since I am still pretty new to a straight drive; I have been given the title of "head navigator." I think I like that. The jobs entailed are very vague and seem to be at my own discretion. But I'll figure out some way to pull my own weight. Hell, I'm blogging and videotaping the entire trip, that's gotta be worth something.

Elkin, NC 10:15 am

Seem to be running into a bit of traffic in the small mountain town quite near Camp Cheerio. Lyle's up here; wonder what he's up to. Preston and I have made a pact to visit him on the way back. We'll see if that actually happens. Lyle, if you're reading this, between you and me, don't count on it ;) Yeh dig?

To be fair, I did spend a couple solid years at the Camp. Well, I say solid, but probably the most memorable event was in my second year in which the aforementioned Lyle and I thought we were going to perish as a result of dehydration ("Mom, please send Gatorades. The water from the water fountain tastes like rust and Win Wah won't give us any." I didn't return.

SIDENOTE: There is this fucking Cadillac with a Virginia personalized plate reading "KELS' LAC," and seated within it is a large Afro-American woman. She is continually speeding by us and then maintaining an average pace in front of us. It is quite annoying, and I am not sure exactly what she is trying to accomplish. Perhaps she's just a bitch.

Fancy Gap, Va 10:40 am

We have officially passed into Virginia, and I must say that the views are pretty breathtaking. I like the Rockies, the snow year-round is cool, but it is really hard to rival the Appalachians. All the farmland, all the green. Pretty awesome. I remarked to Preston that it all looked like Ireland, what with the rolling hills and luscious green grass. In excitement and in an effort to quickly confer, he speedily replies  "Oh it is Ireland," says Preston. We have a stellar laugh.

SIDENOTE: In a manner similar to that of a young, black R&B artist's song, Rob Thomas has aptly titled one of the songs on his greatest hits album "Back 2 Good." Strange.

Pulaski, Va 11:11 am

Make a wish. I noticed Pulaski, Virginia and therefore we switched the tunes over to Sufjan Stevens (song "Casimir Pulaski Day"). Turned out to be a good call, the mood is set well. And in regards to Preston's "Ireland" quote, we just passed Dublin, Virginia. I guess it really is Ireland! 

Seen a couple of long-distance plates. One from New York, a destination of ours. The other from California. Quite a long fucking drive. We just passed the Cali family. Old man looks like he's been sitting there for days on end, slowly soiling himself when needed but pressing on. Surely his ass is rotting in his presumed jorts. He looks like a jorts man. 

We will be stopping for lunch in Roanoke. Maybe we'll get up with Preston's future XC teammate. Maybe not. Either way, it's going to be a good lunch in dat 'Noke.

Hollins, Va 11:57 am

We're stoppin in at a Subway--correction, Wendy's--in Hollins, home of Hollins University. They're solid :/ Not much to say about this town. It kind of sucks. They have a Kroger and a Goodwill. It is pretty fucking drab. Hopefully their Wendy's will be good. It's to hard to fuck up Wendy's, but if anyone can it is probably Hollins.

Hollins, Va 12:34Parking lot at Hollins Wendy's

Wendy's was about as expected: shitty. The food was sub-par as far as Wendy's goes. Further, Preston and I had to listen to the adjacent table's strange political analyses that reflected nothing in terms of modern politics ("Did you see Obama's wife on The View yesterday? Good lawd!"). We got out of there and decided to throw a little disc to loosen ourselves up a bit. Preston hit this green car in the corner of the parking lot. I had not seen that there were two men sitting inside. When I went to retrieve the disc, the one in the passenger's seat looked at me with a very lopsided, deformed face and said "There ain't no playground 'round here," very sternly. I nodded, but we continued to throw. Preston hit the car a second time, and at that point I didn't want to take any chances. So we bounced out of Hollins. 

Now we're back on the road. And I'm very glad.

Big Meadows, Va 9:13

We are in our tent, cozily. Finally.

Earlier, we were hit with a rainstorm that took us by surprise to say the very least. 

But before I get into that, let me talk for a bit about our first moments here. We arrived at around 3:30, and all was well. We tossed the disc for a hot minute, saw some bears and some deer, set up the tent with ease, and then went to the lodge. From there, we took a presumed three-mile hike to Lewis Falls. The trail was extremely rocky, and Preston had to retrieve some strange yet kind man's sunglasses from a rocky ledge. I applauded him, even after his daft decision to decline a $10 tip. The hike itself turned out to be closer to four miles, and the uphill second half walloped both of our arses with ease. Not a good sign for a future collegiate runner (wink) ("Fuck you man!" -Preston

We got back to the campsite and made a pretty decent fire with our charcoal. We were proud. We put some soup on the stove and then ate it, noticing with dismay that it was extremely undercooked and underwhelming. We didn't care. After, we decided to make some s'mores. I had just finished roasting my mallows when the rain hit. Hurriedly, I slid them onto my graham and whoofed it down, sans Hershey's goodness. 

We retreated to the tent, where I noticed Preston had the unmistakable goop of s'more remains on his hand. He licked it off, unphased by my stare, and muttered "What?"

Then it was a battle of patience as waited for the rain to stop. Which it didn't, and so it hasn't. But it slacked, and we cautiously emerged from our small home. The s'more supplies, which had been left outside, were ruined, and were disposed of accordingly by Preston. Feeling like men after just enduring a bout with the elements, we puffed out our chests and went to bum a cigarette from two adjacent campers. They said something about going to a concert. I thought they said Ani DiFranco, who I know commonly collaborates with Dave Matthews, but I think they actually said Anne Frank. Weird. 

After the cigarette, depression hit us for a bit. The rain was falling, the sun was down, and we really had nothing to do. We snacked for a bit, then retreated to the tent, where we now reside. Spirits have lifted; we've finally come to accept our situation. Now 12 hours into the trip, we have realized that it is not always going to be easy going. But we feel prepared.

And now, I leave you to go watch a couple office episodes with my comrade. Day 1, in the books.

MESSAGE FROM PRESTON:

 Don't get in the habit of going to sleep at 2:00 am and then expect to fall asleep at 9. You're settting yourself up for a helluva lot of frustration and strife, longing for a woman's embrace.