Our two outdoor cats, Chloe and Dusty, were watched cat TV Wednesday night.
Something caught their attention. Over there.
Chloe lost interest. Dusty did not.
Then Chloe thought, maybe there is something over there.
Nope. Nothing to see over there.
As both of my faithful readers know, we live on top of a mountain in northwest Georgia. We call it a mountain; it’s not very high, but the sides are steep and the road over the mountain is narrow and winding. Fouche Gap Road is only about a lane and a half wide. The road up what I call the front of the mountain, the side facing town, has a fairly sharp left turn near the bottom of the mountain. It then snakes about halfway up the mountain before making a hairpin left turn. On the right, the curve is up against the mountain. There is a small area at the edge, just big enough for a couple of pickup trucks to park. On the inside, which is the downhill side, there is a sharp drop down to a wet-weather stream.
There is a “no-trucks” sign at the bottom of the mountain. In fact, if a luckless truck driver happens to find him or herself on Huffaker Road at the turnoff to Fouche Gap Road, that driver will see “no-truck” signs on both Huffaker and Fouche Gap. What is not apparent is that Huffaker is narrow, but perfectly adequate for trucks of any size, while Fouche Gap Road is a trap from which there is almost no exit.
On Tuesday evening Leah and I went out for Chinese food and a quick trip to the grocery store — we always need cat food. On the way back we found two cars stopped just before the hairpin curve on Fouche Gap. Ahead there was a tractor-trailer truck stuck on the curve. The front of the truck was pushed right up against the slope of the bank at the right edge of the road, and on the left the rear wheels of the trailer were several feet off the pavement, very close to the drop-off. It was well and truly stuck.
We spoke to the drivers of the cars ahead of us. They didn’t know anything, so I went up to talk to the truck driver. He was a young fellow hauling a load of chickens to a little town named Menlo near the Georgia-Alabama border. He said he had been following his GPS, and it directed him to turn onto Fouche Gap Road. Now if you happen to know where Menlo is relative to our little town of Rome, you will know that there are several possible routes from the west side of Rome to Menlo, including going over Lavender Mountain by way of Fouche Gap Road. And you will also know that there are several reasonably good routes. Fouche Gap Road is not one of them. It wouldn’t even be a top pick if it didn’t have truck-trapping curves.
The driver and I walked back towards our car to see if he could get a cell signal and call for help. He eventually did so. It was probably going to take at least a half an hour for a really big tow truck to get there and pick up the back of his trailer to swing it onto the road. I suspect that the tow truck would have to back all the way up to that point because the road is too narrow for a big truck to turn around on.
The driver imagined that once he was around that curve, he would simply drive the rest of the way over the mountain. I told him it would probably be a better idea to turn around at the top of the mountain and go back down the way he came up, because there is an even sharper curve on the back side of the mountain. I told him he could turn around at the cross road at the top of the mountain.
This was the second time we have been blocked by a truck stuck at that same curve. The only choice we have in these cases is to turn around, drive back down to Huffaker Road, and go the long way around into Texas Valley. Then we drive along the north edge of Lavender Mountain to where Fouche Gap Road comes down the back side of the mountain. Then we take the road to the top of the mountain. The hairpin curve is about a half a mile from our house. The detour is a little over 11 miles.
We had been home for about a half an hour when we heard the roar of diesel engines. We couldn’t see the action, but apparently the chicken truck was rescued.
The odd thing is that just that morning one of our neighbors had posted on Facebook about a tractor-trailer truck trying to come up Fouche Gap Road the same way this truck came. Apparently that truck made it.
I almost never get up early enough to see this kind of sunrise.
On Friday, however, I had to get up early enough so that I could drive over to Huntsville, Al, to get my fingerprints made, and my appointment was at 9:30.
I have been doing a little work every so often for the company I used to work for. Till now, each job has amounted to less than a full day, and I could do it at home. A few days ago, my old boss called and asked if I would be interested in doing some more work. She said, “You can make a lot of money!” That got my attention.
The job, which I agreed to take, will be about half time for six months. The fingerprints, which were done electronically, were required since it had been so long since I had been printed. So, I drove over. It’s about a two hour and fifteen minute drive. The prints were made at a company that specializes in that. After I left there I went by my old office to see a former colleague, Kenneth.
We talked for a while, and then I said I had to leave for home. Kenneth said since it was almost lunch time, I should stay and go to Rosie’s, my favorite Mexican restaurant. I couldn’t resist that.
I took our new dog Zoe with me. She loves to ride, or maybe she’s just afraid she’ll be left behind if she doesn’t hop up into the truck. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to take her with me to work. That means Leah will have to do all the dirty work with the dogs, and Zoe is still not leash trained.
Leah is not entirely onboard with my new job. She doesn’t like for me to be gone that much, and she is not looking forward to trying to walk Zoe. To be honest, I am ambivalent about going back to work, even half time for six months. There was, after all, a reason that I retired, and I have been enjoying having all my time free.
Except for doctors’ appointments, of course.