BACKROOMS, OBSESSION, and WHAM!

Once in a while, Brugger and I both feel a hankering to go to the drive-in theater in Eden, about a half-hour down the way, and last night was one of those times. Over the years, we've had some lovely experiences there as well as some that were anything but up to snuff. Happily, last night was a winner...well, until the trip home.

The Eden Drive-In has two screens—the original, full-size screen and a more recent, pint-size screen with a correspondingly smaller parking area. The Mandalorian & Grogu played last weekend and was still on for this weekend, so we decided to check it out, since we both loved the series. However, once we arrived at the theater—about an hour and a half early—we learned it was playing on the small screen (it had played on the main screen last week), and that smaller lot was already damn-near full. On the big screen, they had Backrooms and Obsession, so we figured, well, fuggit, let's check them out. I'd heard good things about both from friends and fellow writers who'd seen them, and... hey... horror movies and drive-in theaters naturally go together. Huzzah!

 

It was a beautiful evening, and as it got darker, the breeze turned chillier... and chillier. We'd had the foresight to bring layers, so... hey, we felt happier than happy to get a break from the recent once-unseasonal heat. As the sun set, the sky turned all kinds of colors, and come full-on dusk, a bright full moon hung overhead. The perfect setting for us.

 

Backrooms was, to me, utterly brilliant — rather Lynchian, I thought, as if it sprang from the darkest heart of the Black Lodge. It's kind of the inverse of real life: a nightmare film, in which conventional reality occasionally asserts itself. Obsession similarly hit a level of intensity that I found disconcerting.in the extreme. Ms. B. preferred Obsession, while I preferred Backrooms, but that was all a matter of degree. We both loved both.

 

The only tragic part of all this was that, heading home on the rural backroads, I ended up hitting a deer. We'd seen loads of them along the way, so I was driving pretty slowly, but nevertheless, one came bounding out across the road at full tilt, and that was all she wrote. So, sadly...one dead deer. The damage to my car was minimal, but it's still going to require some body work, which is an expense we can ill-afford at the moment.

 

I hate hitting animals. Almost ironically, back in 2015, Kimberly hit a deer on the way home from that very same drive-in (see "Deer Damage"). In her case, the accident caused extensive damage to her car. Perhaps ironically, we'd been talking about that incident while we were waiting for the movies to start. Alas. Anyway, I feel horrible for the deer, and despite the pain the ass, pretty lucky that the accident wasn't any worse.

 

We had such a lovely evening, we decided that it was going to be our takeaway from it. Now, we're really looking forward to another drive-in movie night.

 

Peace out.

Well, That Wasn’t Fun

The Socially Distant No-Dead-Weight Irregulars — Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott), Fishdownthestair (a.k.a. Natalie), and The Terrible Old Man (a.k.a. moi) — had originally planned a geocaching adventure in Durham today, but a last-minute change of minds led us to a new cache — called “Bentley Does the Nat Greene Trail” (GC8YHX7) — on the Nat Greene Trail in Greensboro by friend Old Rob (a.k.a. Old Rob) instead. We converged on ground zero, where coordinates kept settling in two different spots about 25 feet apart. So we focused on those two areas, checked out all the terrain between, and extended our search area by a considerable distance. Nada. After forty minutes or so of scouring the site, we hit on an idea provided by the cache page, which was so obvious that only a bunch of blind bats could have overlooked it. Actually, we probably should have named ourselves The Three Blind Bats. However, we did act on this obvious idea and soon had the cache in hand. It was a toughie, to be sure.

Thanks, Dog!

After our return to the trailhead, the adventure continued in less-than-pleasant fashion. Due to lack of parking space in the too-small lot for the trail, I parked on the side of the road along with quite a few other vehicles. What I didn’t realize was that, underneath all that oh-so-innocent-looking grass, there was a big old pool of mud. This resulted in the Rodan Mobile becoming unstuckably stuck. A call to AAA set things right, but... mercy... what a bother. I hope Dog is pleased with himself.

Thanks, Dog!

And now, back to working on my latest Ameri-Scares novel — New Hampshire: Ghosts From the Skies.

Unsmashing

Before

After

Q Branch got the Toyota back together (see "A Smashing Valentine's Day," February 15, 2020). As it turns out, the fellow who hit me had insurance after all, so the repair work didn't cost me anything. I do have to go to court as a witness regarding the accident, which will require time off from work and a trip to Martinsville. If I lived farther away, that might be problematic, so I guess I'm glad I don't live farther away. Anyway, now I'm going to be paranoid every time I stop at a red light. Perhaps it would behoove me not to.

The owls are not what they seem.

The Great White Beast

Evening serenity at Casa de Rodan

It's a perfect blend of anger, frustration, relief, and thankfulness.

If you're anywhere in the southeast, you're probably feeling the brunt of the winter storm even now. It's been on the schedule for several days, and it moved into NC's Piedmont Triad about one o'clock this afternoon. It's not as if there weren't plenty of warning and adequate time to prepare and adjust schedules accordingly. And after the recent debacle in Atlanta, and other southern areas that simply aren't accustomed to extreme winter weather, you'd think communities would have their proverbial houses in order. Yeah. Sure thing.

Right after lunch, I saw it was getting rapidly white outside — a very slick white, based on the behavior of the motor vehicles in the parking lot. My gut told me, leave now because it's going to be a beast out there in a short while. Word came down that the office would close at 2:30 PM. Another hour or so. Now, at my workplace, if you don't feel safe in adverse weather conditions, there's no problem using personal time to leave. But I decided to be a good trooper and finish out the day.

Well, no good deed goes unpunished. Apparently, every business in town had decided to release the horde at the same time. As soon as I hit the main road home, I found myself in a parking lot. No movement. Gridlock. Snow was gathering so fast while I sat in one spot that every time I did manage to inch forward, the tires spun. It's usually a 15-minute drive to and from work. I lucked out at 90, but not without mishap. I made it to within 400 feet of my house, to the intersection at the bottom of the hill where, during the last icy spell we had, just a couple of weeks ago, there was a rather scenic five-car pile-up.

It had happened again. Another car had come down the hill, slid, and smashed into the trees across the intersection. An officer and a tow truck were on the scene, completely blocking the longer but safer route around to my house. The car in front of me opted to go up the hill. The very steep, very slippery hill. If the driver had just kept going, he would have made it. But he slid a bit and, apparently unnerved, decided to stop. Bad move. From a standstill, when he tried to get going again, his tires started spinning. Then the car began sliding backward — right toward me, waiting at the bottom of the hill.

With the tow truck, police car, and several cars behind me, I had limited options. I threw it into reverse, pulled as far to the side of the road as I dared. Up the hill, the errant vehicle was still sliding toward me and gathering momentum. The driver at least had the presence of mind to turn the wheel so the car was coming down sideways. Knowing now a collision was inevitable, I turned as tight as I could, maneuvering so the passenger side was to him. My only thought at the time was at least this wasn't going to injure either of us.

Boom. He hit me broadside, and suddenly my car was moving, the other car pushing mine over the icy road surface with virtually no resistance. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure about that whole non-injury thing. But then, a moment later, we came to rest a few feet from the edge of the crossroad, both cars still perfectly side by side. We got out, checked ourselves, checked our vehicles. Amazingly, my old Buick took only a few superficial bruises. Not even worth hammering out. The other car fared a little worse, but not by much.

The officer at the other accident came over to make sure we were all right, but she was still occupied and couldn't offer much assistance. Thankfully, we didn't need any, but at least we did have an official eyewitness. The other driver and I basically agreed that we were fortunate and opted to leave it at that. Both old cars, both boasting a few more scars that add character.

Just another ding on the Great White Beast. Lord bless that sturdy old Buick. But from now on, when the weather turns bad, I'm going with my gut, and that shall be that. Right now, there are many, many who are going through worse storm-related trials. Be safe as safe can be out there, folks.

Now, while I've still got power, I think I'll go watch this: