The cost of my one-night stay at Executive Inn & Suite Hotels was $79.00. After paying my bill and exiting the hotel’s lobby, I paused to take a deep breath of morning air and remembered it too had changed. Quickly, I reminisced and yearned for the glory days of Upper Marlboro’s era that drew me here.

In 1987, there were cows and horses in pastures; tobacco fields with lustrous green foliage; Ace Hardware and Lumber 21; the Tobacco Auction House and trucks parked in line on the shoulder of Highway 301-South (Aka Crain Highway) waiting for the auction house to open to sell their products to patrons. Bye the way, Highway 301 was a one-lane highway which enabled residents and travelers to drive north or south with little to no traffic. The morning air was always crisp and fresh with a hint of sweet smelling tobacco.

The entrance to the small downtown area was Main Street which consisted of two banks, a Seven11, a few sit-down restaurants, a jewelry shop, bridal shop, the post office and other small businesses. Occasionally, I had eaten at a few downtown establishments until I found out about Mrs. K’s, “The best kept secret in Prince George’s County” which is owned by two minority sisters.

The restaurant and its motel are located on Highway 301 a few yards from the rail-road track. It’s a quaint friendly restaurant with old-fashion booth-seats and a tall wooden ordering and payment counter. The cooks are Afro-Americans, who were taught to cook by their grandmothers, mothers and other sources. I have to say, “you can’t truly recall or appreciate the meals you ate as a child until you visit Mrs. K’s.” This restaurant serves numerous types of breakfast meals all-day. As well as, a variety of soul food meals such as baked or fried chicken; fried or baked fish, pig feet, lamb, barbeque meats, chitterlings, ox tails, liver, turkey, collard greens, black eye-peas, macaroni and cheese, cabbage, green beans and soulful desserts to name a few.

As I started my truck and did a half-circle to exit Executive Inn & Suite Hotel’s parking lot, I laughed and said, “Boys I am homeless for the first-time in my life, but it doesn’t matter because I am free from the shackles that held me down.”

I thought there might be a few tears upon leaving Maryland. After all, it was the city I called home upon being hired by USDA, Department of Agriculture and transferring to Washington, DC. At that time, I brought and made a $78,000 fixer-upper into a real home for myself and children.

Nope. I had no tears, no regrets or misgivings. I felt peace wash over me once I crossed the Pennsylvania State-Line which was confirmed by a small voice that said, “You have done all you can for others – it’s time you enjoy the rest of your life doing things that’s special to you!”

My GPS indicated the fastest route to my destination was I-80W and I-90W; both include tolls before accessing State-Lines and Service Plazas along my 1,283-mile route; roughly a 20-hour trip. So, I adjusted my seat, stuck the Bluetooth earpiece in my ear, turned the radio up and settled-in for the drive.

I paid a toll to access my first turnpike with was at the Pennsylvania State Line and it appeared to be endless. As I continued to paid tolls every time I needed to get off to gas-up or do the typical highway travel stuff at Service Plazas. Rather than be pissed about the numerous tolls booth I encountered, I focused on the fact that every mile I drove brought me closer to the next Stateline and my destination.

I was rolling a long quite nicely towards the Indiana State Line. When Joker’s truck dashboard lite-up like a Christmas Tree with all kinds of stuff happening. Stuff I had never seen on my 2004 F-150 Ford Super Crew which I had sold, or his 2001 F-150 Extended Cab which I had been driving for the last 3-years.

The dashboard displayed a battery symbol. Above and below this symbol were half-moon circles with a red arrow in both that swayed occasionally but stayed in the middle of these circles; not resting on hot or cool. Then, a funny looking square appeared which flashed “fuel door lock alert.” Followed by a bright red-light which flashed “theft, theft, theft.” Keith what the hell is going on with your truck, I said; to his and Cloud’s cremains riding in urns on the passenger floor mate.

At this point, I should mention. I always travel in the hammer-line as a pack leader. However, I had to begrudgingly abandon that position after signaling my desire to pull over to the right-shoulder on a bridge to call AAA Roadside Emergency Services. By the time I reached the bridge’s shoulder, the dashboard lights and warnings had stopped.

Though it was tempting to return to the highway, I made the AAA call instead. An agent answered; asked for my membership number and if I was in a safe location? Heck no! I believe I am in the second worst place of my life, I replied. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened and how can I help?” You know, I’ve heard about drivers being stranded on turnpikes, but never thought it would happen to me. However, here I sit with crazy folks zipping pass like they’ve lost their minds. Therefore, I need a tow to the nearest repair shop.

Okay lets’ get you some help. I need to know your exact location for the tow-truck driver. What? I already told you, I’m on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. “Yes, you did. But I need to know your physical location.” I have no idea other then what I’ve already told you. Don’t your company have a system to locate me based on my phone number? Laughing… I wish. Okay. Do me a favor and look at your GSP; tell me what its showing near you such as lakes, streets or highway markers. The dashboard begins flashing again: alert, alert, alert and everything died including my cell phone.

While contemplating which side of a dirt-mountain sound barrier might be easier to climb to get help; a vehicle with flashing lights pulled up behind me and the guy got out and walked to my passenger window. “Good afternoon Miss. Are you okay?” No. My truck broke-down and I don’t know what’s wrong with it, I replied. “No worries, I’ll call a towing service and remain parked behind you until a truck arrives.” Thank you, I replied.

During sporadic mirror checks to ensure the flashing light truck was still behind me. I observed a large truck with big flashing lights speeding towards us. I wasn’t sure if he/she was going to hit the truck behind me which would in turn hit me. Instead, the truck passed and swung in ahead of me. A man got out and walked towards my driver side. “Hello Miss. What seems to be the problem?” I think my battery might be dead because the dashboard is black, and my cell phone which was plugged into the power source is dead. “If everything is dead on your dashboard, as well as the power source, it’s probably your alternator. You can wait in my truck while I load your truck on the flatbed.”

Once the tow driver joined me inside his truck. Did AAA send you? “No, the guy parked behind you called my company. He’s one of many toll-road workers whose job is to keep the turnpike free of stranded motorist and accidents. Therefore, they usually call the nearest tow-company for assistance is how you got me.”

Well, where is the nearest repair shop from this point? “It’s Saturday, so NTB in Monroeville Pennsylvania is the only repair shop opened today. The manager, Mark is a good guy and is often able to get long-distance travelers back on the highway when problems occur on a Saturday or Sunday. Otherwise, there’s a lot of hotels across the street from NTB, so I can drop your vehicle at the shop; you do the paperwork, then I’ll take you to the hotel of your choice for the night. Unless you prefer to hangout in the shop until your truck is repaired.

Suddenly, we pulled off the turnpike and sped down a half-finished dirt road. When we stopped in front of a six-foot closed gate. “Where the hell are we going?” I asked. The driver laughed…This is one of many backroads that enable tow-drivers to quickly get on and off turnpikes to remove wreckage and stranded motorist fast. Now, do I have your permission to get out and enter my code to open this gate?” Sure, I replied. Once the gate opened, we drove through a gravel-pit where vacant dump trucks were also parked. At the next gate, the driver got out and entered his code to exit which took us to a toll booth where we paid to gain access to the Southside of the turnpike heading for the Monroeville exist.

Upon arrive at Mark’s NTB shop; the tow driver introduced me and stated, “she’s a long-distance traveler and I think she has an alternation problem. Mrs. Brown, what is your preference: Are you staying here at the shop, or want me to take you to a hotel?” I think, I will wait here, I replied. All right, once you’re rolling again I hope you have a pleasant journey. Thank you, bye, I replied.

Mrs. Brown, I need you over here to check-in, the guy behind the counter said. Once check-in was completed, I positioned myself at a tall table with stools to observe incoming and waiting customers, as well as Mark and his mechanics. I quickly found Mark to be as my tow-driver had described him; a good person, very friendly and worked as hard as his mechanics to get residents and travelers serviced and, on their way, as quick as possible. “Hey Edith, I’ll be back. I found an alternator for your truck. I’m going to get it.” Great, I’ll see you when you return, I replied.

I guess customers thought I was a Greeter. They smiled and spoke upon entering the shop. Once they checked-in and discussed their problems; they usually joined me where we chatted like old friends. Some were highway travelers like me, but most were residents. I noticed customers visiting this shop were extremely friendly and quick to share information. For instance, many quietly told me: Although this shop closes at 8pm. If you get here before the Open Light goes out, or you tap on the window shortly thereafter. Mark and his mechanics will fix your vehicle unless it’s a major job. This practice is the same even on Sundays.

My truck was ready at 8:30pm. But now-days I don’t drive at night. Therefore, I had decided earlier that the Days Inn across the street would been home for tonight. Immediately upon starting my truck to cross Mossiden Blvd, the Service Engine Soon light came on; I drove across the highway knowing I had to see Mark prior to leaving town because this truck’s sensor had to be reset which is required after during work under the hood of F-150 Ford Pickup trucks I have owned. One-night stay at Days Inn cost $76.89.

** To Be Continued **