I normally don’t post stories from my brother, but I found this one to be rather amusing and think I will share:
We were using Google Maps on Lindsey’s phone and on mine to navigate through the Arkansas backcountry on both the way to Lake Petit Jean and on the way from there to Leesville. I’ve always had success with it – even in New Orleans, Houston, and other driving hell-holes. So, when Maps told me to take a left onto a bumpy road barely wide enough for two cars and proceed for 2.2 miles, I really didn’t think anything about it. I just bumped along 25-30 miles per hour dodging the largest of the holes. The road got a little narrower.
Now, for a second car to pass, the other driver and I will both have to drive on what little rocky shoulder is present. I begin to notice that the houses are growing increasingly more similar to where I would expect meth to be cooked and moonshine to be distilled. We see a sign stating, “Caution: Road unsafe when under water.” I jest that something so obvious has to be printed on a sign for the natives. The road got narrower.
Now, for a second car to pass, both the other driver and myself would literally have to drive through the steep, rocky ditches. We pass over a wet spot on the road where a farmers’ irrigation pond has overflowed and is trickling across the road. I joke again that, “This is is. This is the water that has taken lives and required that sign be posted.” The houses become methier and moonshinier. The rickety, wooden bridge I cross has no guardrails and is wide enough for just one car.
The now very narrow road turns to dirt and Lindsey erupts into laughter. As the dirt turns into gravel, Maps tells us, “In 800ft, turn left onto Arkansas Hwy whatever.”
Then, the gravel turns in a stony creek bed; literally a creek bed.
If the sign said the road is unsafe when covered with water, when was the road ever safe?! There was a 20-foot-wide body of water flowing across it. I got out of the car, squatted and looked. Crouched and looked. And finally decided it was only 6-8″ deep the whole way across – if you stay to the left.
Lindsey wanted to turn around and go back; not that there was actually room to turn around. Fearful that there would be angry meth cooks and moonshiners lining the roads with pitchforks, I decided to cross.
I was blown away for the rest of that drive that I had to drive my car through a moving body of water just to get out of Arkansas and back into Louisiana.