Dashboard Confidential March/April 2022
After taking two weeks off for the holidays, it was time to get back to work. Watching the weather channels, I knew there was a snowstorm coming and decided to leave anyway.
Making my way to Allentown, Pa., there was no sign of Mother Nature. The next morning, after grabbing my unit, I looked at the weather choices and decided an easy breeze down through Baltimore, D.C., Richmond would be better than I-81. Virginia always takes care of the roads, especially around the metro areas.
Bad choice on my part.
Just below Wilmington, Del., the snow started, and by the time I got to White Marsh, north of Baltimore, the roads were covered and only one lane out of four was drivable. Surprisingly, everyone kept their speed down and maintained a safe distance. Below the tunnel, it was coming down harder and the CB chatter asked, “Where are the plow trucks?” There were none. Zero. Nada.
At the split for I-495 east and west, I thought about going into the weigh station to let it pass, but it was completely blocked by trucks and cars that had spun out in the 10 inches of snow. I eased on south. Poor old Pepsi city driver with a liftgate trailer and a daycab broke traction and slid sideways on the ramp and got hung up, through no fault of his own.
The last few miles of Maryland are on a steep hill at Oxon Hill. Northbound was completely blocked by spinouts in all lanes. Again, no plow trucks.
Crossing the Wilson Bridge into Virginia was like night and day. One drivable lane that was just wet. Excellent. At least for about 10 miles, but near Springfield there were no plows, and the road became covered in about 8-10 inches of packed snow.
I never had a problem and eased along nicely. Until we got to the Marine Corps base exit at Quantico, and everything came to a halt at 2 p.m. A six-truck crash had us all shut down, and several thousand motorists and I sat at Exit 148 for 22 hours and never moved until noon the next day. According to the local news, the backup was 42 miles long. In that 22-hour span, there were no plows or assistance vehicles. NONE! All day, all night and into the next day. NONE!
In that time, many got to know their neighbors. It is surprising, but not really, that many were not prepared. No food, water, emergency gear, blankets, nothing. What I did see were a great many sharing what they did have. A young man walked up and down the line of cars passing out bottles of Gatorade, another sharing bottles of water. I heard that one truck driver shared his Jimmy Dean sandwiches, and the Jimmy Dean folks caught wind of it and gifted him a year’s supply.
In the morning, after a long night of waiting and hoping for the road to open, I noticed the young man next to me in a hybrid who was bundled in a coat and the car not running.
I knocked on his window asking if he was OK. Almost out of gas and the electric side showing only one bar, he was trying to stay warm.
I invited him to the truck, and he declined at first, but the thought of Tim Horton’s coffee got his attention. As I have a custom sleeper with a full kitchen and a full fridge, freezer and pantry. It was my turn to share. When I leave home, Dear Lady Karen has me stocked with plenty of homemade food.
Walking up the rows of cars, a mom, dad and two screaming kids were about to boil over. I asked if the kids would like oatmeal and some milk. Dad said, “Never mind them, Dad would like some oatmeal.” Nice going, Dad. I invited them over and fired up several cups of oatmeal. That did the trick. No more screaming kids.
They got the 50-cent tour of the truck and decided they were going to be long-haul truckers when they grew up. Score one for the good guys.
Mom was digging on my walnut cabinets and floors and admired my housekeeping.
Several cars ahead of me, to the right, Grand Mom and Pop were having it out. She was letting him have it for not stopping for lunch and gas in Springfield when it was getting bad. I knocked on the window and, as before, their hybrid car was not running. I invited them over and, reluctant at first, they finally accepted. The construction worker near me came over to see if they were OK, and I (unashamedly) asked if he had any gas in the bed of his work truck for their car. He did, and we fixed them up with a few gallons to keep warm. I made more coffee, a few bacon-and-egg sandwiches, and there were some happy people.
In those 22 hours, I saw people helping people. Food, water, blankets, jump-starts. This is the America that I love. In a time of some adversity, I witnessed a lot of good and people coming together. Now, if Virginia can just figure out how to dispatch snowplows.
Happy trails. LL
More Dashboard Confidential:
Not long ago, Dave Sweetman pondered on how cushy truck drivers have it, as a neighbor of his suggested. Another time, he rambled on the joys of pre-trip inspections.