On our road, there are two and a half miles between the hard road where my cousin’s farm is and the river ford. There are a handful of residents on the first half mile of the road. Once you get past that, heading out toward the river ford, you’ve only got scattered hunting cabins other than two houses plus ours. There is a woman who lives in one of these houses. I’ve had several interactions with her in the past year. The first interaction involved her car being broken down when she picked up her kids from the bus. I was on my way out to look at our then-under-construction house and I took her and her children home in my car. My second interaction with her, months later, was when I was passing her on the road. I happened to have my window down and she rolled her window down and told me that I drive too fast on this road and she didn’t like it. I thanked her for letting me know and went on. Now whenever I drive past her, I make sure my window is rolled up.

FYI, this is the woman who drives 5 mph who stopped in the road and picked up the turtle. Yeah, I didn’t like it that that incident made me like her a little bit. She still drives too slow. When I say 5 mph, I’m not exaggerating. Sometimes it’s 3. And I hardly think driving 15 mph on this road is acting like I’m on the Autobahn, so yeah, it annoyed me that she gave me a hard time that one day. I think she’s rude and bossy. (There is no posted speed limit on this road, though I’ve been told it’s commonly considered 25 mph on rock-based roads in this area. I don’t know for sure. It’d be difficult to go any faster than that without careening over a cliff, so I suppose no sign is posted because the rough, winding road forms it own limits.) It’s simply not necessary to creep along this road, though, which is what she does. Two and a half miles is a long way at creeping speed. There are various points along the road where I could go around her if she stopped or even pulled over just a little, but she never does that. She forces me to creep along behind her. For two and a half miles.

If I have to pass her on the road coming from the other direction, it’s always me who has to move, not her, even if it’s harder for me. One time I came across her and she stopped her car in the middle of the road. I waited for her to move over at least a little to help me pass her. She didn’t move. Eventually, she got out of her car, marched up to my car window, told me I had 4WD and she didn’t so she wasn’t going to move over and I’d better just figure out how to get around her. I asked her if she could move over just a little since there was a CLIFF there and she was in the MIDDLE of the road. She could move over a little to help, 4WD or not. Nope, not budging. I get a sense of resentment from her. I’m an outlander, “that writer” who built that house on the hill and pretends to be a farmer. I’m a blight upon the community and she’s letting me know, in her way, that I’m not welcome. And then there’s the fact that I came with all those teenagers. She doesn’t like them, either. She came stomping up to my house one day to complain about the way 17 drives. She thinks he drives too fast and she doesn’t like it. (Are we sensing a pattern here?) I thanked her for letting me know. Then she complained about him at the sheriff’s office, too.

In the house where this woman lives with her little children, they do have electricity, but little else. They have no phone service and no TV. Their house is actually two old single-wide trailers put together, and there is mildew almost completely covering the outside of the trailers. I don’t think they have any electric heat because in the winter they are always burning wood and I always think they are going to burn their trailer(s) down. Sometimes I complain that I need money, but all I have to do is look at their home when I drive out the road to know that I am blessed. Their living situation is the classic image of stark Appalachian poverty. I do think this woman is good-hearted-she stopped and got that turtle out of the road-and she is country-wise-she is one of the neighbors I watch to see if they will drive to the river ford