…driving to Richmond, VA…

Driving in a lightning storm has got to be one of the neatest things ever. The sky kept lighting up entirely, or crooked streaks would reach out across the sky in front of me, trying to clothesline my car.

I’ve also decided that the Baltimore-Washington area has the best radio stations so far. None of that constant scan for one good song every 30 minutes. I got 4 REM songs in a ROW! Everybody Hurts, Losing My Religion, Stand, and the tail end of another that I couldn’t remember the title to.

Everybody hurts reminds me of Seeing the Gray

Exit 152, the FIRST WAFFLE HOUSE SIGHTING! I passed into Spotsylvania County. Made me think of the book and miniseries Roots. Excellent, both. I can read the book over and over. Sometimes I want to do something like that in researching my family, but how can 4 generations of stonecutters compare to going back to African roots? There could be some interesting stuff, though. I know that my great great grandfather, Joseph W. Taylor came to Central Falls, RI from Scotland in his 20s. They owned Taylor Monuments (or something) right across from Massacissic Cemetery in the same town. My grandfather learned to drive in that cemetery. One time he broke a headstone on a sharp curve and my great grandfather had to make a new one. Weird stuff started going on at some point, but no one really talks about it much. My grandfather doesn’t speak to his sister and both his parents are dead now. My grandmother said that his mother Mabel used to control his father Joseph with alcohol. Said that she also hated me and treated his sister like a princess and made him sleep in the basement.

Jeez.

After exit 152 I got passed by two Porshes. Cool.

Saw a sign for St. Barnabas Rd. Definately a name I need to use for something.

Billie told me a story about one of her friends earlier today on the way to Arundel Mills. Said friend had a hobby of stealing roadsigns, had a basement full of them. Driving on a rural highway, he got stopped for speeding. He remembered that he’d stolen the speed limit sign on that road.

“Do you realize you were speeding?” asked the cop.

“No, sir,” her friend said.

“There’s a speed limit sign right back there. You just passed it.”

“Sir, I have no idea what the limit is. I didn’t see any signs at all.”

“You just didn’t see it. There’s a sign.”

“Sir, I didn’t see one.”

So they went looking for the sign and turned out, there was no sign.

Cop let him go.

Yeah, it’s a real story. Weird how true stories can sound so unreal, as Billie commented.

So I got off on an exit to Route 1 to refill the gas tank. At the Texaco the automatic shut-off didn’t work and gas bubbed up and out of the tank and all over my hand. Had to go into the sketchy gas station bathrooms with an unflushed toilet, random stuff on the tile floor, and a smell that…ugh. Washed my hands but they still smell like gas. Got back into Rt 1, heading for 95 south again…

Flashing lights ahead. Hmm, someone must’ve gotten into an accident. Nope. Cones, flashlights, loads of cops.

Argh. Roadblock. Had to pull into a slot and have a cop check my car for alcohol.

“You been drinking?” he asked.
“Um, water.” I held up my water bottle. “See?”
He nodded. “Where you headed?”
“Richmond, Virginia.”
He studied my license and registration intently. “You just get off 95?”
“Yes, sir. Heading to 95 South again.”
“You’re okay. Take a left out of the plaza and another left and that will put you back on Rt. 1.” He walked off.

Hmm. I followed his directions and it put me back on Rt 1 NORTH and onto 95 NORTH. Dang it. Had to turn around at the next exit.

Right before I got off Sara’s exit, I saw a roadsign for “Powhite Parkway”

Does anyone else see the ethnic slur behind that name?! Wow. Po’ white trash highway. Only in Virginia…