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Page 55 text:
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SATURDAY — OCTOBER 25, 1947 “Wow! 7:30 and not a soul stirring. We're only supposed to be on the road at eight o’clock, too.” That cabin room certainly was cold Saturday morn- ing as we. belatedly burrowed our way out of the “sack”. Maybe that’s why Gustafson let Wentling break the ice. Believe it or not, the girls had their feet on the floor when we came around, but not Davies and “The Lion”. Things really hummed for the next half hour, and at 8:05 “Pathfinder” Davies was off. After a round of “goodbyes” to June and Dot of the dining room staff, the rest of us departed about 8:20. Over to Big Meadows was only a short hop of ten miles—before breakfast, that is. What a way to spend the breakfast hour! Grapefruit juice, French toast, eggs, milk, jam, tea, ete—all in a beautifully rustic dining hall overlooking an expansive valley of farm- land, which you couldn’t see because of the light fog. Before continuing on to Swift Run Gap to meet Mr. Davies and his gang, we just had to drive in (on a mile and a half of twisting, driving, climbing, gullied, briared, rocky, one way hill billy Virginia mountain road) to see Tanner’s Ridge Mission. When we got there we couldn’t tell what it was, except that it wasn’t the old, dilapidated station that we expected to find. Whether it was Catholic, Lutheran, Presby- terian, Baptist or something else we knew not. Two little mountaineers couldn’t help us, either. When we finally arrived at Swift Run Gap “Pe- gasus” had been awaiting us for fifteen minutes with the mission to Elkton completed. Starting out in full force once more we leisurely enjoyed the scenery as much as the haze would allow. We never missed a chance to pull in to an overlook, supposing each one would be better than the last. For a picture Carl finally resorted to a review of our three-car caravan. Presently began that mem orable search for the Pond Ridge Picnic Area that wasn’t there. Noon found us only five miles from the end of the drive. After asking an old mountaineer concerning the picnic ground we decided we must have passed it. At 12:45 we were in a confab along the road. We de- cided to go back still farther and before long we were back twenty miles to Turk Mountain Overlook. In desperation we restorted to dead reckoning and turned back once again. Finally we located the place —it hadn’t been open for years! After the picnic ground episode we determined to cover some ground in one direction and raced (I do mean raced) to Charlottesville, thirty miles away. It was 2:30 p.m. when we finally found a park for colored people and fried our onioned-hamburgers over an open incinerator. They made a scrumptious meal along with raw carrots, fresh doughnuts and delicious apples. Hurriedly we drove to Monticello and made a quick tour of “Tom’s” place. We stayed just long enough to hear his tinny, old clock strike five. We were gypped, though, because we couldn’t see the day indicator which was down in the basement pointing to Saturday. We took their word for it, however, and concluded Thomas Jefferson to be a clever indi- vidual regardless of the question of political great- ness, eh, Mr. Davies? Coming back to Charlottesville again and experi- encing a bit of indistinct navigation we were delayed a few minutes. After finding the road, however, we were on the merry chase and made the 75 miles to Fredericksburg in two hours. We had to drive through the city but finally found the place we were looking for—a neatly planned motor court with hand- some cabins. It was the end of a perfect day when we stopped there. No, it wasn’t either, for we par- took of a delicious repast in the dining room of the court. Lots of fun but there was still more—a bowl- ing party or shall we say a “ducky” time. It took patience to wait for four alleys and a chance to strike those little duck pins, but after we got the ball rolling we discovered some top-flight talent as well as some clever foot work. Marcia was truly “fighting it” while Roxy rolled up the high score for the girls. Some scores were revealing! Dan walked away with high honors but that’s because it was his first game. By 11:30 our chaperone was “bowled out” and had to be taken home, a bit earlier than expected. But going home to those rooms was a treat no matter what hour it was! SUNDAY — OCTOBER 26, 1947 Sunday was the last day of the Sneak. With the prospect of books and classes and six-weeks’ exams on the horizon we Seniors tried to make this last day one we wouldn’t forget. We began it the usual way—straggling into the dining room about one second before closing time to keep the waitresses happy. Only this time about half of our cast of characters didn’t quite make it— they were still feeling the effects of bowling until midnight. After breakfast we started packing the cars and counting noses for the last time. Somehow, this crowd looked different from usual. Oh, I know what it is! It’s Sunday morning and the girls and fellows are dressed in their Sunday best—hat and all, instead of the typical collegiate “sharp” outfits. Our first stop was Fredericksburg, Virginia, where the King’s crowd went to the Baptist Church. It was crowded (remember all the glamorous co-eds?) but somehow they noticed us “King’s Kids” and right in the middle of the service the preacher mentioned us and we had to stand and be welcomed. After pocketbooks, hymnbooks and Bibles were readjusted (most of them fell to the floor when we stood up to take a bow), we settled back comfortably while the visiting preacher expounded the needs of present-day communistic Russia. When church was over we trekked back to the cars and the long journey home began. It was unevent- ful up to the time we crossed the bridge from Vir- ginia into Maryland—where Mr. Davies nearly beat the policeman who asked for the $1.50 toll! Oh, my goodness, let’s control ourselves, “Uncle Mort”! This is the Class of 1948, you know, so of course nothing goes as scheduled. According to the original plans, we were to have dinner about two o’clock and then head for Baltimore to attend the evening service at “Deac’s” church, but instead we ended up with dinner at Annapolis followed by a quick survey of the Naval Academy. My, oh my, but wasn’t that nice! Mmm... all those nice—buildings, I mean! It was Sunday and of course the Chapel was barred shut (we couldn’t figure out why). We tried to sneak in several side doors and even considered bash- ing down the heavy iron bars, but iron just doesn’t bend! Well, the day was almost over; nothing more to do but get back to school. Nothing exciting happened on the way home. Of course, we all were separated and the trip home ended in a race. Mr. Davies’ car reached the goal first; Gene followed just a short time later; and Carl (the hungry bum!) pulled in last. His car had stopped for food! My, but it was fun! And we all agree, “there’ll never be another Sneak like it!”
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Page 57 text:
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