Route 50--Saint Louis to Washington, DC

When Fish and I left Saint Louis, we did so sadly.  Our road trip to discover the Midwest's least-publicized roadside oddities was over and now we just had the unhappy task of getting back to DC and returning to work.  

We waved goodbye to Kat, hopped in the Prius and fired her up.  After checking to make sure that my push of the button had actually started the absurdly quiet car I came up with what turned out to be one of my least intelligent, most-regretted ideas.

"We should drive Route 50 all the way back to DC.  Look, it starts here in Saint Louis, and the mall is on Route 50 in DC.  It's totally a highway, shouldn't take any longer and we won't have to be on the interstate." I explained, thrilled with my idea and hoping that Fish would bite.

She did.  "OK, you don't think it'll take any longer do you?"

"Nah, look the line on the map is shorter too.  We make actually get there quicker!"

With that it was settled, we pulled onto Route 50 satisfied with our navigating abilities and sure that in 13 short hours, we'd be back in upper northwest DC, drifting happily off to sleep.

It wasn't until several hours into our journey that the folly of our decision became clear.  Route 50 crosses mountains!

"Oh, yeah, okay.  Now I see why the interstate isn't a straight line.  They were trying to avoid these mountains.  Well thought out on their part."  I said in what must have been slightly too academic a tone for Fish.

"What do you mean WELL THOUGHT OUT ON THEIR PART!??!  You didn't notice when you struck up this genius plan that we were going to spend the bulk of the trip driving 40 miles an hour through mountains?"

"Well, no, I just thought it'd be nice to say we drove the whole of Route 50.  Like one last little adventure for the trip."

That softened Fish's position a bit as she is a bit sappy when it comes to things like that (which I knew and expertly took advantage of since it's really uncomfortable to get yelled at by Fish.  She's loud and a little scary sometimes).

"Well, how far are we from the Interstate?  Maybe we can cut over."

"Yeah....nope, looks like a REALLY long way on even smaller roads.  We're just gonna have to push on."

Fish gave me a sideways glare, sighed heavily and sped up slightly.

At hour 16 we were tired, starving, and cold (which was weird since we could control the temperature of the car but I think maybe its just a feeling you get at 2 am in the mountains of West Virginia.)

We stopped at a 7/11 to buy provisions and ask some questions about how much longer it was going to take us.  The two ladies working at the register seemed puzzled by our sudden appearance in the store as well as by our purchases (diet coke, coffee, Cheetos, cookies, a deli sandwich--which they seemed to indicate we shouldn't eat--a post card, and cigarettes.)  As we were headed out of the store one of them said "You girls should really be drivin' with the doors locked" and then glanced at the other one who knowingly nodded.

We thanked them with puzzled looks on our faces and got back in the car. We locked the doors and started driving in silence.  Fish finally broke it with "Why would we need to have our..."

"doors locked when we're driving 40 miles an hour?" I answered.

"yeah, so that's weird right?" she questioned.

We talked about what other possibilities there would be for suggesting that we lock our doors other than the obvious, we're in West Virginia and mountain men humming the deliverance song were surely hiding in the woods waiting to kill us and then play banjo music while cooking our cut up bodies.  No matter how hard we thought, no other scenario seemed more likely to us than that.

We both got very quiet, processing the deadly situation we found ourselves in and praying that we would make it home alive.  At the very height of tension we rounded a corner and Fish screamed.  There was something in the road about the size of an ostrich and at the speed I was driving there was no time to swerve.  We hit it with the right front bumper and it tumbled off to the side of the road.

"Just keep driving" Fish yelled.  In a flash she had made the decision that it wasn't worth risking being raped and murdered by toothless citizens of West Virginia to make sure that her car was okay.  I was totally cool with that and kept driving.

The car was silent for probably four and a half minutes.  Then we simultaneously burst into over-tired, adrenaline-pumped, scared, giddy, crazy laughter.  Fish was laughing so hard she was crying.  Every time we started settling down, one of us would say something about this horrible, epic trip we were on and it would send us into another fit.

Around 4:15 am, we rounded a bend and saw the lights of civilization.  The road widened to four lanes and we picked up the pace.  About an hour later we pulled into the parking lot at my house.  We grabbed only the essentials and sluggishly walked in the house and up to my room.  As we lay there in my bed Fish said "That trip totally sucked.  Lock the doors." and we laughed so hard we snorted.