Ending day one I’m in Knoxville at my host’s apartment. Saturday, I drive through two more states: North Carolina and Virginia. Click on the photos to see them full size. Here’s the end of my story:

Day Two

I wake at 8:30, feeling surprisingly rested.

By 9:15, I’m in the car. I thank my host for her sisterly hospitality–she was really a blessing–and pack my overnight bag in the car, making sure not to get my canvas tennis shoes wet. Because of this, I decide I’m taking my alternate route: rolling through North Carolina, instead of going north through the Appalachian mountains. It’s longer, but safer.  I get gas, coffee and stupidly pay $3.55 for a breakfast biscuit at McDonald’s! (Still irritated about this.)

I take another look at my map, deciding that my alternate route isn’t the best route. In an effort to stay extra safe, I think driving the interstate is better than taking highways. I get on the road, confident in my new route and I’m ready to travel. I’m in and out of rain, and I’m glad I don’t get stubborn and stick to the safe way.

During this leg of the trip, I choke down major butterflies.

I’ve come a long way. It’s too far to turn back now. I just have to convince myself that the Lord will provide for me. More long lost CDs fuel my drive and Stella–my car–treats me well. Score.

Things are going smoothly.

I coast with ease. Until I see the rolling hills and tall, thin trees transition into mountains. While crossing the Tennessee border into North Carolina, are the Smokey Mountains. They’re amazing, like nothing I’ve ever seen before! Sure, I’ve passed through Turner Falls area and the Arbuckle mountains plenty of times, but they’re nothing like these. These are real mountains. In 3D. I see them. I smell them. And I’m so occupied with looking up and to the left, trying to take in everything about the mountains and processing everything about my trip, I have to remind myself to keep my eyes on the road.

Occupied with the view of the mountains, I pull over taking tons of pictures.

I’m in awe of how awesome and large the mountains are. And, how small I feel in comparison. Frustration creeps in that my mom couldn’t ride with me to see this. I know she’d like them just as much. The camera on my phone can’t take pictures fast enough, or clear enough. It can’t capture what I see with my own eyes, and clearly falls short of doing the breadth of the mountains justice.

Getting a little emotional, I’m grateful in being able to stop and take in the mountains, and what this journey really means. I notice that it’s warmer around the mountians. The air is heavy and smells like charcoal, naturally. The highway winds beyond belief and now is the time to really focus on the road. I’m not used to the sharp curves and driving continuously uphill. But when I descend, I’m on such a steep incline, that I’m coasting at 65mph. Coasting. Not on the gas. Definitely thinking I’m crazy for taking this journey. I can’t believe this. I’m in my fourth state.

 

I’m happy taking the longer way, because I like seeing the cities in North Carolina.

The rest of the state is a decent drive. It’s easy. It gives me confidence. And, I use the map to make my own route, ignoring the Google maps directions I’d printed out, and taking Interstate 85 through Durham to I-95. All without GPS. It’s awesome. I stop in Greensboro, which seems like a nice city and reminds me of how Plano looks off Interstate 75. I immediately think my sister would love this city.

Reaching Virginia’s border happens about two and a half hours after I leave Greensborough.

Virginia has lots of developed, cool looking small cities/large towns. The highway there feels kinda close, like there are lots of trees too close to the highway’s shoulder. But, it’s easy to navigate and I experience no problems with my new route. I like Richmond, and it’s a place I definitely plan to visit again. It makes me think of Dallas. And the Phillp-Morris Marlboro pillars give me a laugh. It looks like a giant lighted cigarette, while also looking like some sort of nod to the Washington Monument.

I decide this is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.

But quickly follow up with the idea that it’s also the greatest. Getting to DC isn’t hard. Actually, it’s a straight shot. On I-95, other drivers zoom around me because I’m  terrified of getting a speeding ticket. I feel intimidated because these drivers know where they’re going and I don’t. And still dont. It takes me about two more hours to get from Richmond to the DC area and not long to reach Maryland. I missed my photo of the welcome sign on the border of the states, though because it’s dark. Sadface.

I’m done.

I reach my sister’s friend’s house, where I’m staying, at about 9:30 p.m. It’s crazy. I absolutely can not believe how far I’ve come. I’ve been driving for two days and about 25 hours (including rest stops) to get here. I’m thankful and say my prayers of thanks for my safe trip. As a joke to my friends, I tweet “I may be black, I may be ugly, but I’m here!”

Goodbye OKC. Hello DMV.

This is crazy.