I just bought a car from a fellow out Newberrytown way. If you’re not from Gettysburg or the surrounding area you may have no idea where that is. Hell, I just went there and I don’t know where it is. But it sure was fun. Exciting at least.
My father-in-law picked me up in York Springs and we met the seller in York. He has a 1988 Ram Charger. Ugly as sin, but it’s tires are real beauts. And drives like a charm.
So we drove up the road to a title office called Runkles and they gave him the business over his name. His drivers license had one name and the title had II after it, signifying a junior. They wouldn’t transfer the title for that discrepancy. My father-in-law had already left.
So we hopped in the oversized jalopy and headed toward Newberrytown where he pulled into the office of an insurance agent/notary. She had no problem transferring the title for us. I guess it helps to be on a first name basis with the notary.
At any rate, the paperwork all done, I had agreed to drop the seller off at his home in York Haven (wherever that is). Another fifteen minutes later and he was climbing out of my brand new old vehicle waving sayonara. I think that’s French for “So long, suckaaahh!”
Well, I had forgotten to bring along the cell phone so that I could call me wife and ask for directions back home. Mr. Newberrytown had told me to head up the road a piece and hit I-83, which would take me to 581. But that’s in Camp Hill and I didn’t think that sounded right. It was the opposite direction from York and I knew where York was. I went up the road a piece and missed my turn beside the fire company. That’s OK, I took the next one – a winding road called 295 that went up and down and around and in and over and under, then across Conewago Creek followed by more unders and ups and downs and arounds until I finally connected with I-83. I got on the highway headed toward Harrisburg.
Thinking it was the wrong direction, I turned around and went back toward York. When I got home my wife told me I was going right the first time. It just doesn’t pay to be from Texas!
Anyways, I made it to York and got to my exit, Hwy. 74, and took the ramp down to the stoplight. My windshield wipers decided to stop working then. And it’s snowing like Christmas. So I got out of the vehicle and manually worked the wipers because I enjoy looking like an idiot. And that worked until the light turned green, at which point I got back in the vehicle and drove for a few more feet until the snow had my windshield covered again. You know, I managed to make it home alive. Ah! how sweet are neck of the woods.
If you’re from out of town and that sounds like a real good time of travel to you, you can have a similar experience. Just hop in your vehicle and drive. Head to Newberrytown or Over There, which is about half way between Here and Yon, and just enjoy the scenery. Boy, Conewago Creek looks awesome through the snowy icy air in a strange vehicle from 500 feet in the air as the Deliverance-style rapids rush by underneath in places you couldn’t find on a map! And if you don’t believe me, just try it. What else did you come to Gettysburg for?