Goin’ Down the Bayou

          I consider myself a fairly accomplished driver. I’ve been driving since 1972 and when I worked for Ritter Food and Sysco, I would routinely drive 1000 miles a week because of the size of my selling territory. Route 80 in rush hour and the screamingly busy New Jersey Turnpike were just another walk in the park to me. I have even driven a NASCAR race car at Pocono Speedway.

                A few days ago, (our second full day on the road) I experienced what was probably the worst and most stressful 45 minutes of driving in my life.

          Some sicko in the Louisiana DOT designed a highway that runs from Baton Rouge, Louisiana to Lafayette, Louisiana. It is Interstate Route 10. Running basically in a straight line following an almost perfect East / West tangent, it is elevated on a windy bridge above a giant swamp just high enough that you know that there would be no survivors if some idiot caused you to careen over the side.

          It ran for THOUSANDS and THOUSANDS of miles.

          With itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny  guardrails.

          And alligators underneath.

          I KNOW this is true because I’ve watched Swamp People.

          It’s two lanes wide and I needed to be in the right lane of what felt like it was being on the Jungle Cruise at Disney World except there was no humorous Guide to shoot the ‘gators and hippos as they charged the boat.

          When we finally hit dry land I thought, Phew! That’s over with!

          Nope.

          Another 14-mile Destruction Zone that had me feeling as if I was driving on the streets of Monte Carlo in the Grand Prix.

          Except their course is much wider and has easier turns than the road we were on.

          All of this in a 40’ motorhome dragging a 15’ trailer behind it.

Driving a vehicle this size in windy conditions, is like carrying a piece of plywood out to your car at Home Depot.

          In a hurricane.

          With only you holding on to the plywood.

          The term White Knuckle Driving was invented for situations like this. When it was over, I looked down at my hands and found out that there were, in fact, no knuckles left on my fingers.

           They were permanently imbedded in the steering wheel.