Going to Granny's on a Saturday Night

When I was a girl growing up in beautiful Scott County, Virginia, we often made the trip to Dickenson County on weekends to visit my grandparents. Though it seemed to me that we went every weekend, I know that we actually only went once or twice a month.

It was about 60 miles from our house to the home of my maternal grandparents (Granny & Pa Fred) in a small community called Darwin. It was about a 90-minute drive along narrow, crooked two-lane roads. Of course, if we were going to the home of my paternal grandparents (Granny & Curt) in Clintwood, that was another 15 minutes or so along even more narrow, crooked two-lane roads.

At that time, Daddy worked six days a week for the Chevrolet dealership in Gate City. On the weekends we were going to Dickenson County, Mom would have supper ready as soon as Daddy came home from work on Saturday. We'd eat, she'd hurry with the dishes, and we'd pile into the car to head to Granny's.

Sometimes, as a special treat, we'd stop for supper at the Dutch Boy Grill in Weber City. It was a drive-in restaurant situated right beside the Holston River. The Dutch Boy had great food, and we always looked forward to those special suppers.

Full of burgers, fries, and chocolate milk shakes, my sister and I would settle into the back seat, feeling cozy and safe. We listened to the Grand Ole Opry on the car radio as we rode through the darkness, making our way through Gate City, Nickelsville, and Dungannon.

As we left Dungannon, my cozy feeling turned to dread. Between Dungannon and Coeburn is a horrible stretch of narrow hairpin turns winding through an area known as Hanging Rock. In my entire life, I've never been across Hanging Rock without suffering from motion sickness. (In retrospect, maybe those stops at the Dutch Boy weren't such a great idea after all.)

The road from Coeburn to Darwin (and on to Clintwood from there) isn't great, but it's an improvement over Hanging Rock at least. By the time we'd arrive at Granny's, I'd be in misery. Being carsick is just about the worst thing ever, and I've suffered with it all my life. (The only thing worse is being homesick, I think.)

When we got out of the car in Darwin, Granny would have a glass of water and an Alka-Seltzer waiting for me, bless her heart. Soon I'd be tucked into bed, tummy settled and snuggled down into warm blankets. Sunday would be a busy day of visiting with relatives, but Saturday night was spent resting and recuperating from Hanging Rock.