going forward

No matter how well planned, something unexpected can happen. Maybe it’s good! Not really this time. However, I am determined that my approach throughout this story is going to be one of gratitude.

I have wanted to go to Grayson Highlands State Park in Virgnia for several years. Multiple friends have recommended it. For my annual leave week in October, I was fortunate enough to find an open tent site. I was so excited. Five days, four nights. As the week approached, my biggest concern quickly became tropical storm then hurricane Ian. Predicted to plow straight up the east coast and dump a lot of rain even into southern Virginia. All about timing. Come Friday before my trip was to begin on Sunday, it looked OK. Maybe some residual showers. that’s fine. Afterward sunny skies were to prevail with temps in the 40’s at night to the 50’s in the daytime.

On Sunday in Charlotte, it was cool and sunny after the system had blown through. Lovely. Off I go for the two-and-a-half-hour drive north. Smooth trip. Beautiful drive especially as I entered the Grayson Highlands area. Misty, cool, a tad drizzly. That’s OK. I like a cool foggy autumn day. I easily found my site, I almost passed it, so I reversed to get a better angle for parking. Thunk. I thought “WTH did I run over a branch or something?” Then I realized that my truck, Baby, was no longer engaging into reverse. UH OH. So, I circled around the loop and came back to my site that I luckily could pull into off the side of the road. I didn’t need to back in.

The weather cooperated with my site set up. Quick tent erection between showers. Fire started. Now to obsess over what to do. Gratitude- I had one bar of cell service so I was not completely isolated. I thought of the several camping-based Facebook groups I follow. So, I posted a quick message describing my conundrum. I was heartened by the flood of emotional support and practical suggestions. As I’ve said before in a FB post, campers are the best people.

I am not a mechanically inclined gal. Yes. I know. I should be better at that. But even if one was an auto repair master, this was no easy fix. I enjoyed the fire until a truly windy stormy night set in, then chilled in the tent with the intrepid Josey, the adventure pup.

The next day after reaching out for assistance to the park office, to no avail, I ventured into a nearby town, Marion, to a mechanic that I’d reached by phone. Only 25 miles but with the winding roads, it took an hour. He checked my transmission fluid, confirmed that it was OK, then sent me to a transmission shop who told me I needed a new one and that he was 2 months backed up. Not helpful. Back to the campground by mid-afternoon. I knew I was too late to try to get it back to Charlotte and to my mechanic, so I determined to pack up and head home the next morning.

I did. Somehow, I managed to drive 2.5 hours, dump my gear and Josey at home, and get to the garage without backing up. Diagnosis: need a new/rebuilt tranny. Ouch. I did do some research and found that the F150s in that period (2008) have transmissions that last 50-200,000 miles. Mine is at 165,000. Shrug.

Here we are to the bottom line: GRATITUDE.

I am grateful I had at least one bar of cell service so that I was not completely isolated. I am grateful for all those on FB for their moral support. I am grateful I made it home OK. I am grateful I have a mechanic whom I trust. I am grateful that, although disappointed that my trip did not go as planned, I had some of the time off already for the truck to be in the garage. (I’ll need a rental for some period of time, because they are not fast…). I am grateful that I was not in a worse spot. I have been down so many one lane dirt roads looking for waterfalls where they were only six-point turns required to get out, no cell service, few people.

And I could at least go forward. That’s what I have been required to do for years, whether I wanted to or not. Even if I stalled for a time, I eventually went forward. Even if I sometimes rolled backward a bit, I’ve moved forward. Because sometimes you really don’t have a choice.

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Place of the lost one