Snowstorm

Partly because our motorhome was delivered to us almost two months later than promised, we had been under some degree of time pressure ever since we drove away from Ben Lomond.  We had to be in Pennsylvania in October to help Nancy's parents move to a senior facility, and we hoped - and tragically failed - to meet friends in Maine.  With Ren and Dottie squared away in their new digs, we suddenly had a lot more freedom to slow down, to explore, to be observers of the American way of life in its regional variety, to interact with our fellow citizens.

But first we needed to deal with our leveling jacks, which continued to perform unreliably, and we made an appointment with a repair facility at an RV dealership in southern Pennsylvania.  On the way there, snow began to fall.  By the time we reached the repair shop Saturday morning, visibility wasn't very good, and snow was already accumulating on the ground.

A technician reset the leveling reference point and pronounced us cured.  With the weather looking worse and worse, we decided to stay overnight at the adjacent campground run by the dealership.  So we turned on our electric fireplace and curled up on the sofa with Sophia and Tammy Faye and watched television as the snow continued to fall and the temperatures dropped.  Nancy and I had both dreamed of evenings like this - freezing cold outside, warm and cozy inside the motorhome.  Heaven!

We awoke to a winter wonderland, with four or five inches of snow on the ground.  The sun was out and the world was beautiful.  Our dogs had never seen snow before but seemed to enjoy walking and playing and peeing in it.  News reports said that this was abnormally early for an East Coast snow storm, and that hundreds of thousands of residents of New England and Pennsylvania were without power.  Nancy's sister Julie was one of them.

We located a sports bar - Buffalo Wild Wings - nearby and drank beer and ate disgusting and delicious tailgate-type food while watching the 49ers whup Cleveland.

Heading toward Asheville, North Carolina, we took the scenic route.  We entered the Shenandoah National Park and drove almost the entire length of Skyline Drive, a magnificent road that runs in Virginia along the ridge of the Shenandoah Mountains.  There was still wonderful foliage color, and with snow covering the landscape, and jawdropping views of the hills and valleys below, it was one of the prettiest drives I could ever remember.  And we had time to enjoy the scenery - speed limit was 35 mph for the entire hundred miles or so. 

I wanted to visit Monticello, the home designed by Thomas Jefferson, so we stopped for the night in Waynesboro, Virginia, at an Elks Lodge.  You may recall that I am a proud member of that proud fraternal organization.