The Hills Are Alive

Devoted Spouse and I spent last weekend in West Virginia visiting a school chum of his. I’d always heard of the “hills” of West Virginia and now I have experienced them first hand. Hills — almost straight-up hills. Our friend lives up one of these hills and his house is situated such that you must walk down steps in his front yard to get to his front door and I don’t even want to describe the hill associated with his driveway. Suffice to say I’d be a bit testy trying to maneuver my car into the driveway on a cold snowy day. It is so steep one runs the risk of entering the driveway in one county and ending up in the next county in the blink of an eye. We parked on the street. That scared me, too. Streets in this neck of the woods are narrow and parking one’s car on the street leaves little wiggle room for other cars to pass. Assuming, of course, that they don’t just plow right into you since there is a good chance they’re barreling down the hill without brakes. Yes, our friend lives on the equivalent of a runaway truck ramp; all he needs is the gravel and sand. I think you get the picture.

So, Bob, the hill-dweller, was a most hospitable host – he took very good care of us. He even wondered why we hadn’t brought along EmmaLou the Golden Destroyer. I thought about bringing her but she’s not good with change and I thought it might upset her system too much to stay in such unfamiliar surroundings. I think it was the right decision, especially given the situation with the hills. I can’t imagine taking her for a walk — oh I could get down at least part of the hill, but there was no way short of an Act of God that I would have managed the return trip uphill. Not even strong EmmaLou could have pulled me up that 187,563 percent grade road; not without oxygen at the very least. I had visions of getting down the hill only to call Devoted Spouse on the cell requesting he drive down and rescue me. Anything to keep from having to traverse the hill.

So what did I learn this weekend? I wasn’t built to stand in a 45 degree lean. I’m a level ground kinda gal. I’m scratching West Virginia off the retirement-home list.


7 thoughts on “The Hills Are Alive

  1. That would be heaven to me to be in the hills or mountains. I have been in the flat plains of Kansas for over 30 years and have hated them the whole time but Hubby is from here so that’s where we live. I love the mountains and trees or hills and trees. Anything with trees actually. The only thing for me that tops the mountains is the ocean and I’ll take a house at the beach over anything.

  2. I also love the mountains but that doesn’t mean I want to live on a street that is a straight uphill incline! I guess the grass is always greener…

  3. I cannot think of hills without remembering how it was like when visiting my best girlfriend on her farm during the summer when I was yet in my teens. Forking hay into place as it rolled up the hay loader in the back of the wagon and onto the wagon bed, until the ground began to disappear from sight as the wagon tipped to a frightening angle, gave me plenty of cause to appreciate level ground. But how I love to visit the hills when going north for the annual family reunion.

  4. Well, Mary, I’m glad my ‘leaning’ story brought back a good memory for you! ๐Ÿ™‚ Hugs, Linda

  5. When Devoted Spouse is driving, I try very hard not to look out the passenger window because the drop off the road is often straight down, and those roads are anything BUT straight! Not a drive for the fainthearted!

  6. Yikes it sounds like a drive not for the faint
    LOL about Emmy Lou!
    Goldens would be good sled dogs but they want to say hello too
    We live in a hilly area, and no matter which way one goes, there’s a hill to walk up on the way out and one to walk DOWN on the way back.
    A hilly driveway though, we don’t have to deal with.

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