On the outskirts of Charlottesville there is an area, a triangle (mile marker 113 going west, to mile marker 115 west again, then across to Mile marker 116 going EAST-covering a total of about 5 miles inside the triangle) which I believe is governed by forces of which we know not.I must point out that no cell service is available within this triangle. A rest stop is located around mile marker 114 going west. The first time I broke down in this triangle was returning home from a date. This was before I gave it up, dating. Dating is over rated and wasn't good for my self esteem. I was returning from date, a date, which in my infinite wisdom, I believed would lead to a happy healthy monogamous relationship.I was innocent to the devilish ways of the triangle as well as the devilish ways of dating men back then. My car at that time was a 1987 Honda Accord which didn't run very well(and remained filthy, to punish it for it's unreliability, I littered it with trash so it would know exactly how I felt ) Smartly I borrowed my Friend Naomi's 1995 Toyota Sienna mini van, knowing full well it was in better shape then ye olde Honda. I passed mile marker 113, THUNK, bump, THUNK, bump, THUNK, bump went the van. I knew the rest stop was near, I kept driving, THUNK, bump, THUNK. I pulled over and pulled out my cell phone. CHECK CALL RESTRICTIONS popped up on my Government Cheese cell phone.Damn, Damn and Double Damn. I got out of the drivers side and walked to the passengers side and inspected the damage, a flat tire. I am an expert at flat tires, having them and changing them. It was around midnight, it was dark, cars were flying past me on the high way. I didn't know where the spare was and I couldn't see and I was scared.
got back in the drivers seat and made a decision, a decision to drive
on the side of interstate with a flat tire; in my friends mini van to
get to the rest stop where I could at least see, perhaps my cell phone
would work once I reached that area. THUNK, bump, THUNK, bump for half a
mile until I could see the lights of the rest stop up ahead, a sigh of
relief passed through my lips. The rest stop was deserted except for an
18 wheeler in the dark section on the opposite side, it's driver napping
from a long haul to and from somewhere,
somewhere else. I pulled up towards the light of the snack machines. I
got out of the van to search for the spare tire and jack towards the
rear of the vehicle. I was wearing a low cut shirt (my standard dating
uniform, another reason to give it up,it brings out my scandalous
boobies and, they, with minds of their own want to show off) Soon I was
bending over and laying under the van in various and unseemly
"Flat tire" a deep voice rings the obvious.
"Uh Huh" I answer crossing my arms over my chest look out from under the van to see a man in a tee shirt back lit like an angel. The light from the cheetos machine flooding over him."Ain't got no spare" he says.
don't see one,"I agree, attempting to look like the kind of person that
can handle such a situation. The reality is that I am that person who
handles such situations often, though it involves a flood of tears.
Casually, I take the lug nut thingy out of the car and hold it
menacingly in my right hand.
imagine the cheeto lit trucker man grabbing me,chopping me up, and
throwing me into the back of the van. In the morning when the police
come to give me a ticket for parking perpindicular to the parking
spaces, the flies buzzing by the back door will alert them to my
shredded body. No one will miss me. No one will miss me until it is my
turn to take the kids. I'm screwed. I'm dead.
"you got road side assistance?" The threatening trucker asked.
yeah-"a feeling of warmth and relief pass over me- I have someone elses
Triple AAA card in my wallet. All I have to do is act like them! And
their whole family is blonde too, I'll fake it, for sure. I'm not dead
"My cell phone doesn't get service, here" I offer, showing him my trashy, worthless piece of technology.
"There is a pay phone" he gestures towards the eerie yellow lights near the lavatories.
"Thanks" I say and hurry off, he goes around the van inspecting the tire. The
existence of an old, slimy, payphone which costs more than any of us
have, in change, at a given time, remains, as a connection to eras gone
by. If you could afford to make a call, only God knows where or who it
would connect you too.It was then that I realized that this space (mile
marker 113 going west, to mile marker 115 west again, then across to
Mile marker 116 going EAST-covering a total of about 5 miles inside the
triangle) is governed by forces of which we know not. Paranormal
perhaps, or the demons from the depths of hell, I can not tell who in
fact governs the energies of this no mans land, all I can do is recount
my experiences in this uneasy space. I contend that this rest stop is haunted and possibly manned by the undead or other fantastical creatures. Instead of this back lit trucker talking to me, Large Marge the infamous ghost of all truckers could be awaiting in that 18 wheeler.
I walk over to the oddly lit payphone I read the words printed on blue stickers attached to this device.If you could afford to make a call, only God knows where or who it
would connect you too.
have no money, I have no change, this is how I travel. I hate it. I
do have a triple AAA card with someone else' s name. Across from the
pay phone is an office, brightly lit with florescent lights, behind a
metal desk sits a troll. I venture in to ask if I can use his phone, he
grunts a no to me. I back up slowly, wondering where I left the metal
thing that looks like a crow bar. It starts to happen, the
transformation that comes over me-my face begins flushing red, My lips
quiver and the water begins to form in the corners of my eyes. No, I
won't let this happen. I buck up my courage, "My car is broken down" I
say, inching back towards the troll, "I don't have any money to make a
phone call, I just needto
call triple AAA". I am closer to him, showing my strength, my
resilience for life that a troll and ghost trucker will not take away
from me. The troll growls and words come
forth from his mouth. I have no idea what language the words are
spoken in, I am standing there, stupid, not moving, knowing he has
spoken but not knowing what he has said. He stares at me. I can stare
at him too, I've never won a staring contest but the stakes were never
this high. He speaks again, "The pay phone will work, you got an 800
number?" . Wow. I completely understood. "Yeah" I answer, unsure of
how this is come
forth from his mouth.
It is like I am on some strange acid trip, but I only had a few glasses
of wine with dinner. "Thanks" I mutter, impolitely. I go across the
sidewalk to the payphone and convince the triple AAA folks that I am
indeed Virginia Dawnsir. "The driver of the tow truck will need to see
your driver's license and registration, Ms. Dawnsir" the female voice at
the end of the line says.
In my head the words, Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit keep dancing around my head. My mouth says "Thank You"
go back to the lopsided van.The ghost trucker is walking away "you get
triple AAA " he asked. "Yeah, Thanks" I say, searching his hands for
the thick metal bar that is my weapon. He does not have it.
get in the van and close the doors and change my shirt, I am lucky that
I always have too much crap with me where ever I am, yes, it looks like
pajama shirt but it comes up pretty high on my neck so I don't care. I
wait until the tow truck comes and pop out again.
driver looks at sheet and says "I think I've had to pick you up
before" I have no idea. Does he mean me, Rosemarie Harper, or does he
mean Virginia Dawnsir? It is possible he has picked me up before, I do
spend a lot time in broken cars.
"Hmmmm," I say in an non-commital way.I realize that he has come from the real world. The one that lies dimensions away from this rest stop. I hop into the tow truck, in a bit of hurry, hoping he doesn't get caught in the spell.He
puts the van on the lift and takes me 17 miles, in silence to the beginning of the mile long
driveway that leads to my home. Off the lift goes Naomi's van.
"be safe Ms. Dawnsir" he calls out as I begin my trek.I turn and stare at him, unsure but safe at last.
I go into the woods, for a long, flashliteless walk in
the dark, safe and sound because I am far from the rest stop and mile
marker 115, Little did I know that this was only my first encounter
with the Devils Traingle of I 64. Central Va's own Twilight Zone.