Nobody told us about Whitebird hill. Hill?? Hell was more like it. Whoever named that topology a hill had a perverted sense of humor. The grade down Whitebird hill made the Lewiston grade look like a minor bump in the road and now my wife was forced to drive this torture test. We couldn’t stop to change drivers as there was no room. If I’d tried to open the door and get out I’d have fallen to my death but that was a moot point since the truck trailing behind us wouldn’t have allowed us that luxury.

I will never forget that ride as long as I live. It was one harrowing ride for the both of us. My wife because she was driving and me because I wasn’t driving! Knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, furrows lining her forehead from concentration, and sweat pouring forth like water my wife drove from one near disaster to another as we descended until finally we hit bottom and found a place to pull off and recover before going on. Naturally it was all my fault as I am still reminded every so often.

We rested there while I comforted my wife but as we had limited time and money we soon had to get going again so I took the wheel to give my wife a rest and we headed south again. I wish I could say that was the end of the matter but like the drip, drip, drip of some diabolical water torture Whitebird hill was just the beginning.

Whenever I drove the road was wide and smooth, no problem. When my wife drove we encountered one problem after another. Highway 95 in those days often degenerated into a twisty narrow one lane road and frequently passed right through barnyards usually scattering chickens in all directions as we drove through.

My wife was invariably driving at these times especially whenever we encountered a car or a truck heading toward us with little or no room to pass. It was bad enough driving forward but backing up on a narrow one lane twisted mountain road was more than harrowing.

Aside from Whitebird hill the worst came when she had to drive on a small cliff next to the river where the road turned to gravel and was partially washed out so that it threatened to slide into the river at any moment. That was the last straw. I had to drive the rest of the trip. That was fine with me since with every new problem I received more and more looks that spoke volumes until I was moved to protest that I hadn’t planned it that way.

To this day I don’t think my wife really believes that. She claims to believe it but every time the subject comes up the conversation is accompanied by another look!

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Tags: Humor, travel

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