Ok, so I've been a long time gone and one of my readers--the one that I'm not related to--is said to have nearly swooned when she got a short email from me. Please forgive me. Anyone who knows me knows how self-absorbed I can be, but I apologize. I'll try to do better.
This weekend, Paul and I embarked on another of our two-wheeled adventures. We left Friday morning and drove to Arbovale, WVA, near Snowshoe Mtn. Resort, for a bit of riding in the mountains. The trip out was smooth and uneventful, which is just the way we like it. When we got into the hills, the temperature dropped significantly and before I knew it, I was thinking how I'd only packed one long sleeved tee shirt and no other jackets. Saturday morning was actually chilly but everything else was just perfect. The sky was a deep azure blue, spotted with puffy white cumulus clouds. I layered up with my rain jacket over my summer riding gear and we were good to go.
Our plan was to go to "The Hutte" in a little town called Helvatia. In the mid 1800's, a group of Swiss immigrants settled in the area because it was so much like their homeland. Today, it's still a "blink and it's gone" kind of place, but the thing is, if you stop, you'll find it's a little jewel out in the woods. (http://www.wvculture.org/history/wvhs1311.html) The Hutte is a family run restaurant in an old farmhouse, packed with antiques and historical memorabilia. It's a little like going to your grammy's house for dinner, minus all the emotional baggage. The food is all homemade, including the bread, the country sausage, and the cheese. If you ever go, share a sandwich and save room for the the homemade cobbler because it's the star of the menu and definately worth every calorie.
The ride home on Sunday was a bit more challenging. As we hit the interstate and rode into Virginia, it began to rain. I dislike riding in the rain, but that's a risk you run when you ride motorbikes. Besides, as my dear husband always says, that's what they make rainsuits for. I hunkered down behind Paul but I realized that this was not just a simple shower. It felt like we were being pelted by a barrage of frozen peas. Hailstones! All around us, cars were pulling over but we kept on going. I knew that stopping would do us no good, but it was unnerving to see so many others giving up. All I could do was pray for the best. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was over.
I was ready for our adventure to be over but it wasn't--quite. When we stopped to rest and call home, the news was that traffic on the Bay Bridge was backed up for about 8 miles due to an early morning crash that sent an eighteen wheeler over the side and into the water. Fortunately, because the eastbound span--the site of the accident--opened up as we approached, the trip across only took us two hours more than it would have.
Thankfully, our little jaunts are usually much less episodic but I still love to come home. Last night, I was a whole lot happier than usual.
