I have that Todd Snider song, 45 Miles, stuck in my head since what happened on Friday night. We were coming back from Charlottesville–had dinner with the PHD sister and her husband. We chased the storms all the way home and were highly entertained by the lightning show. It was entertaining until we got to the spot on 295 where 295 and 95 South meet.
Apparently, the rain had just stopped and there was a lake on the road. We went water skiing in the car. If you know where I mean then you aren’t suprised that swamp water was right in front of the car after we finally came to a stop. In fact, when I opened my eyes I wasn’t sure if we were in the swamp or the median strip. We were so far down the embankment we couldn’t see the road–the State Trooper couldn’t find us until we managed to get a flare lit on the road. After coming to a stop we heard a car go into a skid and my first thought was please don’t come down here on top of us. That car was luckier than we were and continued on down the road.
It isn’t that we weren’t lucky….a few bruises and a strawberry on my right elbow is all the damage we have. The car on the other hand is dead. The Boogamobile is no more. We went to the lot this am and got stuff out of the car and took pictures….
