Another inconsiderate

A few weeks back before the leaves had fallen off the trees, my wife and I took a Sunday drive to the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah National Park just west of my home. We used the back roads at first and then headed west on US Route 33. The first photo show the view just west of Stanardsville, Virginia, after the road narrows from four lanes to two as it heads up toward Powell Mountain. At this point, the road was wide open as in the photo, with a 55-mph speed limit. As we entered the twisty section around the mountain and had to slow down, a Chrysler Pacifica rapidly closed in on us and practically hooked itself to our rear bumper (at the locations of the second and third photos).

Then in a clearly marked no-passing zone (fourth photo), this speed-crazed idiot passed us. But he soon had to brake when he caught up to slower moving cars ahead of us. When the road reached the steep ascent to the Blue Ridge and opened up to 2 lanes uphill, he passed the other vehicles. The total distance from the twisties to the 3-lane part of the road was only 2 and 1/2 miles. He passed us only one mile short of the widened road. The last photo shows what could have greeted him in the oncoming lane during his ill-considered pass. All this effort and danger just to save a minute or two at best! What stupidity!

Far from the madding crowd

Rural 2-lane roads are statistically much more dangerous than interstate highways. Still, with the constant traffic on so many US interstates including huge numbers of trucks and people in such a rush in their cars jockeying to get ahead of the pack, it can be a relief to take the older, quieter roads. It seems that the notion of "getting there is half the fun" has long been forgotten, and now everyone just wants to get there, wherever "there" is, in as little time as possible.

Meanwhile, on certain back roads at certain times, there is a solitude that simply can't be found on the interstates. This photo of the open road was taken last Sunday afternoon on US Route 340 just west of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the scenic Shenandoah Valley between the towns of Elkton and Waynesboro, Virginia. Oncoming traffic was light to moderate, I never had to pass a slower moving vehicle going my way, and no one approached my rear bumper for the entire 30-mile stretch.