Not long after writing this the Inventor disappeared.
Harriet died in December of 2009. Jane, Robert’s wife died in November of the same year.
They started taking trips, some lasting several weeks, some just for a few days.
They were old boys looking for diversions.
This was late September.
They were going to see the sights in the Virginia and West Virginia mountains. They drove in Bob’s Lexus SUV, coming up from Charlotte on I77, observing but not commenting on how the road abruptly rose into higher country just beyond the Virginia line. At Bland they turned south on Virginia 42 then before getting to Ceres they turned north on 623.
The road quickly became dirt and gravel. Robert set the wipers to the slowest intermittent rate as they climbed the cloud shrouded mountain. The big tires crunched and threw up pebbles which thudded against the underside of the vehicle.
Robert, who spoke with a West Texas drawl, although he had lived most of his life in North and South Carolina, said, “You liked those high meadows in the Smokies. I thought we’d go to Burkes Garden. That’s something.”
The Inventor had not asked where they were going. “You and Jane come up here?”
“Yeah but never this back way. “
“This is one of those roads?”
Robert snorted. “I expect so.”
“But you got a map, saw that the road goes all the way through?”
“Of course.”
They came to the first switchback. Their orientation changed. The mountain now loomed on the right side of the road and dropped into nothing on the left.
The Inventor laughed. “Of course. Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen?”
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