A TRIP DOWN WENDOVER AVENUE

This happened many years ago and some people have already heard the story, but a few are requesting that I tell it again in this blog.  So, as requested, let’s go for a trip down Wendover.

I was born and raised in North Carolina, but lived on the west coast from the time I was 18 until I was 50.  It was tough as all of my family was here on the east coast, most in North Carolina.   I was young and on my own, and then married and raising a family and money was generally too tight to afford flights back “home” very often.  I tried to fly out at least once a year, but sometimes didn’t even make that.

My one and only sister, Sharon, is seven years younger than me.  I left home at 16 and went to live with an aunt and uncle, so by the time she was old enough to be a pain in the butt, I was gone.  As she grew up, and especially after she married and had a son, we became so very close and it was horrible living so far apart and seeing each other (if we were lucky) once a year. 

Now if you’ve read my blog about my sense of humor…Sharon’s is the same.  When we would get together, it was no-holds-barred craziness.  We would laugh until our stomachs and ribs hurt.  We had so many memories of crazy things we had done that were like private jokes.  Sometimes we would be out somewhere and someone would say something that would trigger one of those memories and we would start dying laughing.  People around us would have no idea what was going on.  The terms Captain Midnight, chins, frog ladies, Go Boomer…Go Boomer, black eye red pants, Krispy Kreme in football helmets, “Oh no, Mr. Bill” all invoke laughter for us. 

There is one memory, however, that has stood the test of being the absolute best to date and that is “Driving Down Wendover”.

I can’t remember what year it was, but I think it was in the late 80’s.  I came back to visit one summer when my sister had an adorable black Toyota convertible.  It was so hot that evening that we decided to go for a drive and put the top down.  I think this was probably my first convertible ride.  It was amazing. 

In the sultry southern evening warmth, the wind almost felt like it was caressing my face.  I had never experienced anything like this!  It was fairly late at night because it was totally dark.  We were heading down Wendover Drive in High Point and were on a stretch which, back then, had no street lights or houses. 

The wind on my face felt so good that I said to Sharon, “I wish we could just drive down the road naked.  Wouldn’t that feel awesome??”    Even in the dark I could see her fearful expression as you looked at me and said “Really??”  Her expression was one of “Oh no, I think Rose Mary is coming up with one of her crazy ideas”.  She was right.

Now, I have to tell you here that generally when Sharon and I are doing something crazy, I am usually the instigator, but she is almost always a very willing participant.

I looked at her and said, “We’re out in the country.  There are no street lights or houses.  Why don’t we just pull our tops up to our chins so we can feel the wind on our bodies?”  She pointed out that there were cars coming from the other direction with their headlights on.  I convinced her that it would be okay because we were sitting so low and the speed limit high enough that no one could see anything.  We went for it!

We pulled our shirts up to our necks and continued on our way.  It felt wonderful!!!  I was holding my arms above my head and just in heaven.  Every time a car would pass we would giggle at what we were doing and they didn’t even know!  We were laughing so hard that I don’t know how Sharon was able to drive.

As we went along I had a thought.  What if we had an accident and ran off the road and were knocked out or killed? There we would be with our shirts up around our chins but our shorts and underwear still on.  I told Sharon I could just envision the state troopers finding us and one saying to other, “Maybe someone was going to rape them, but changed his mind after he got their shirts pulled up.”  After a few more minutes of bliss, we pulled the shirts back down and headed home. 

It was an adventure I will never forget, nor will I ever repeat.  If I pulled my shirt up going down the road at a good rate of speed at this point in life, the wind would probably lift my flabby breasts, blow them back over my shoulders, or possibly fly up in my face and give me a black eye.  Nope that memory will likely never be repeated, but I’m so glad we have it! 

Love and Hugs,