Stuck in the Middle of Nowhere, USA

If you know my husband, David, and me then you know we have experienced so many unusual and/or exciting things together during the eight years of our relationship that we could write a book.  In fact, people have begged us to pen a collection of The Meyer Adventures. Tales of things like the time we saved two old ladies’ lives a top a mountain from their van that blew up in blazes on a windy day, or when we almost got attacked by a crazed man rapidly approaching our car at Krispy Kreme, or when we wound up on a Mexican bus full of people and chickens headed for who knows where, or when we were on a walk around our suburban neighborhood only to see a herd of cattle run in front of us. Our friend, Justin, has been the most consistent distant witness to our zany happenings that he and his wife, Lindsay, are always some of the first to hear of ‘what happened to the Meyers this time’.  They’ve sworn off travelling with us for fear of having the curse…errr….uh…blessing of the predictable unpredictable opportunities rub off on them.   Well, our attempts to drive home to Cincinnati for Spring Break last week will one day be part of those tales we bind up in a book.

With our move eight months ago, we haven’t been able to come visit David’s family in Cincinnati until now.  So, for his Spring Break, we loaded up our car with over a week’s worth of clothing, books, games, snacks for the road, and of course our sweet pooch, Oscar, to embark on our eight-hour journey from Virginia to Ohio.  We were passing through some of the most beautiful landscapes that America has to boast.  Given the fact that I’m still reading the biography of Daniel Boone, pioneer life is fresh on my mind.   I commented to David, “I feel like we’re in a covered wagon blazing a trail to those western territories over yonder.”   Little did I know that it would wind up taking almost as long to get to Ohio from Virginia as it would have had we truly been on a wagon. (Ok, not really, but I do enjoy a good hyperbole).

So there we were, just past some of the snow covered scenes of Virginia and West Virginia chugging along, starting up the incline of Sand Stone Mountain. Then it happened at about 1:30 in the afternoon.  Our car would no longer accelerate.  A little light with a wrench symbol came on.  Trying to sound all smart I said, “I have a feeling it’s the transmission.” I had no idea what that meant, but it just felt like the right thing to say at that moment. Unfortunately, according to the user manual, I was in fact right.  Not only that, but it said, “Get to the nearest Ford dealership immediately.”  We were not even half way into our trip.

There we were, stuck in the middle of Nowhere, USA. But praise Jesus; I was able to pay the Triple A renewal fee just a month before this incident.  We called them from a Shell station to explain our situation.  They asked where we were.  Neither of us knew, so we whipped out the GPS and discovered we were in Beaver, WV.  Have you ever been to Beaver, WV? I didn’t think so.  While I’m sure it is home to some lovely people, there’s not a lot happening there.  But apparently they rent a lot of cars there because when I called to see about acquiring one, there were none available except for one mini van that we would have been required to return right there to Beaver, WV. 

After about an hour, a tow truck pulled up.  We thought we had convinced the driver to let us keep Oscar in the cab with us, which was going to be great because the truck had two bucket seats in the front and a bench seat behind them. Plenty of room, right? Well, apparently there were only two rules for the cab: no pets and no smoking. While I was more than happy about the no smoking rule, the no pets rule was a bit of a predicament for us. Nevertheless, Oscar was banished to ride solo in the unmanned car on the tow truck behind us.  Thinking it would be a nicer than expected hour-long journey to Charleston, WV, we stretched out.  Then our driver told us we were going to be switching trucks and drivers for that part of our trip.  So, he took us to their office building, which was, as it turns out, pet friendly. We waited in the dingy, cold hallway and watched The Waltons on a small television from the 1960’s that was perched next to an empty candy dispenser, while awaiting our next driver.

Mike came in and told us we could load up and since his truck was more beat up than the last one, Oscar could ride with us.  So, the three of us humans piled in the one bench cab with Oscar on my lap and David’s knees contorted between the stick shift and the side of my legs.  Always the seat belt police, David and I dutifully buckled up. David struggled to find the buckle for his seat belt. Noticing this, the driver said in his West Virginian drawl, “You can just use mine. I figure if I get in a crash I wanna have some fun and fly. I’m just an ole redneck.” Redneck was right, but it was easy enough to make friends with him, especially for this Southern girl. Bumpity bump bump bump down the road we went.   Our bodies took a beating from the rivets of the road and the old truck.  We carried on a conversation with our driver from everything between country music, tattoos, blown up bridges, and The Lord. 

Then, before we knew it, there we were at the AAA approved Ford Dealership in Charleston at 5:00 on a Friday afternoon.  Technically they were closed for the weekend, but the employees who were wrapping things up did let us use their restroom.  Then we went back to our car, which was parked behind the building, to camp out and wait.  We tried our best not to turn it on so as to preserve gas and to be sure that nothing blew up. But after a couple hours, we were shivering too bad to avoid it.  In the midst of this, David’s parents said they would drive the four hours down it would take from Cincinnati and we’d all spend the night so that they could drive us back the next day.  We had called the pet-friendly Hotel mom and dad had booked to ask if we could go ahead and check in while we were waiting on them to get to town and they had agreed.  So, we called THE ONLY cab company in town, made special arrangements for them to let us bring our dog in the car too, and waited for them to call us back once the driver was on his way.  We waited. And waited. Then we called to see what the hold up was. They said they were a little short handed, but hopefully it wouldn’t be too much longer.  So we waited. And waited. And waited. And then we called again.  This time, they explained that the driver who normally serviced the area we were in had been in a wreck.  How comforting.  So, we checked in with David’s folks to see where they were.  They were about thirty miles away, so we called and cancelled the lost cause of a taxi.  This was at about 10 minutes till 7:00PM.

While sitting there, David started chuckling.  He said, “I feel like one of those people who approach you on the street and go, ‘Hey, I’m coming from Virginia trying to get to Cincinnati and my car broke down. I’m with my wife and dog and I just need a few dollars to make it down the road.”   Seriously, we were stranded.  No way to get a rental car, a taxi, or anything.  I knew of a lady that this happened to in Nashville after travelling there from out of state for a job interview.  She never left. She wound up homeless on the street.  She’s still there today, years later. Now I understand how a thing like that could happen.

Whilst waiting on Mom and Dad to get there, we decided to start organizing our luggage. There we were in a back alley parking lot sorting through our unmentionables in the wide-open spaces, just trying to survive.  Then it happened, the cavalry arrived! It was the most beautiful sight.  Mom and Dad pulled up to save the day and rescue us from the dreadful mess we were in.  David and I flung ourselves into their arms, never quite so happy to see them as that moment.  We and all our stuff squished in the car like The Beverly Hillbillies to drive into the sunset (well, actually it was already dark) for a not so lonely night in Charleston.  At last, we had been rescued and were in good company. After a good meal and a hot shower, we all tucked ourselves in for a good night’s rest followed by a fresh start to the Midwest.

When our very own cavalry named Mom and Dad pulled up, we were rescued from a desperate, helpless wasteland where we could not save ourselves.  Has anyone ever done that for you?

Are you stuck somewhere, desperate, helpless, and in a wasteland with no resources to save yourself from the mess you’re in? I’m here to tell you that there’s a cavalry much bigger than even Mom and Dad called Calvary that has ushered in a rescuer for you.   Just call out His name: JESUS and He’ll be there faster than any slipshod taxicab in town could be.  He’ll take you out of the dreadful, scary place you’re in straight to the Heartland. 

“For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness into the kingdom of the Son He loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sin.”  Colossians 1:13-14