THE NIGHTMARE EXPRESS

     When I think of Daddy Fogle in Marshall, TX, I think of a quiet, brilliant, self-educated and self-made Renaissance man. I think of gorgeous blue eyes with a perpetual twinkle and a sharp mind that did not diminish in his 97 years.  I would hate for any of the following narrative to besmirch his good name in any way. Nevertheless, I feel compelled to tell you that it was on the occasion of his passing, that our family innocently stumbled into a life changing, "hell-on-earth" travel nightmare.

      The logistics alone for packing up four children ages 4, 7, 8 and 13 into a Suburban with luggage enough for a week,  travel entertainment, dressy clothes for the funeral and bedding for sleeping in the car is a particular challenge for a Mom who might be described as "scatterbrained". Humph! (Did I mention 16 hours of driving?)   One secret weapon we carried in our arsenal of travel tips was to leave South Carolina in the evening, thus ensuring maximum sleeping time for our four sweet little angels. Steve and I would take turns driving through the night. How were we to know that there was a massive roadblock on I-20 for the purpose of drug screening? This means that our children had already been through an entire Disney movie before we even cleared the Columbia city limits.

             Finally, at 11PM we were on our way! By the time the "burb" got to Augusta, GA, all of the children and Mommy were already dozing.  Steve explained that he was stopping for a restroom break, and a snack to get him through the long night. I opened one eye to acknowledge his words, then sank back down into my lovely dream.  In the quiet interior of the car came Jessica's sweet voice asking if she could go to the restroom. Wasn't that just like our oldest to get permission first? She has always been thoughtful and responsible.  "Of course," I mumbled, barely moving my lips. Then, back to the bliss of deep sleep.  How rare to have a car full of such cooperative little sleepers!
     Eventually Steve got back into the driver's seat, and the gentle rocking of the Suburban as it cruised down the road ensured  that the rest of us remained relaxed. As the miles flew by, a smile curved my lips as I congratulated myself on the brilliance of our plan and the perfect ease of our travel as compared to those poor schmucks who insist on daytime travel with screaming, arguing little hellions.  I glanced back at the car full of blankets, pillows, and sleeping children.  My happy musings were interrupted by the unmistakable sounds of a siren directly behind us.  Steve was genuinely puzzled as he made his way to the side of the Interstate in Atlanta, GA. 
     "Was I speeding, Officer?" Steve asked in disbelief.  The Patrolman examined his driver's license slowly...suspiciously.  Finally he reluctantly handed it back and said, "I believe you left a child in Columbia county."  Now I knew that he was just mistaken.  "Oh no sir, she is right here!" I happily proclaimed as I reached behind me to rouse Jessica from beneath her big comforter.  Something was wrong!  My hand kept squishing down on the comforter, and NO ONE WAS UNDER THERE!! Suddenly, Jessica's sweet little voice flashed through my memory. Oh no!  We left her in Augusta, almost 3 hours behind us!  The thought of my beautiful, sweet little girl left alone at a convenience store/gas station in the middle of the night was painful.  The patrolman gave us the exit number, and phone number of the policeman who was keeping her safe, and sent us on our way....back the way we came. 
     Not only were we desperately anxious to be reunited with our poor child, but we realized that we were going to have to back track almost 3 hours, and then cover the same ground AGAIN.   It would be more than five hours before we could advance one more mile.  In our desperation we wondered, 
"would they be willing to meet us half way with Jessica?  If so, we would be reunited so much faster, and would not have to drive quite so far out of the way!"  
     We had a plan!  We got off at the very next exit to call the Sheriff who had our daughter.  A Waffle House parking lot with a phone stand looked like the perfect place to implement our plan! (Can you believe what we had to do in the days before cell phones?)  We stopped the car just two feet in front of the phone stand.   Steve opened his door to get to the phone and I also attempted to exit the car with little Sandra who sleepily informed me that she needed a restroom break. I bundled her in my arms, stepped out of the car, and was met with the flashing lights, screaming sirens, and screeching tires of at least three cop cars surrounding us. Seconds later, the deputies crouched behind their open car doors and shouted out orders. To Steve: "Keep your hands where I can see them and don't move!!"  To Me:  "Get back in that car!!" I attempted to explain that we needed to go to the bathroom, but he was not impressed, and firmly reiterated his orders.

     It seems that as word spread from county to county that we left our child in Augusta, the wording changed a bit to "abandoned their child".  This is never a good thing.  But add to that the recent event of Susan Smith drowning her children in Lake Marion and Law Enforcement was not going to let one more child be forsaken.  After an explanation from Steve, the deputies were extremely helpful.  They actually worked out a system where Jessica would be hopscotched from county line to county line by deputies from each jurisdiction.  They encouraged us to just wait there.  Hanging out at the Waffle House in the middle of the night was a treat for our 7 and 8 year old sons.  By the time our poor bedraggled daughter was reunited with us, her brothers were on a sugar high guaranteed to last the remaining 14 hours.  I just wanted to hold on to her and hear every detail of her experience, but she wanted nothing more than sleep! We drove through Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana in a state of shock. In all likelihood,  at least three of our children were  screaming, arguing and hanging from the windows, but we were too shell-shocked and sleep-deprived to notice.
      To this day I believe Jessica (now a beautiful, married professional) would rather forget the experience.  But the experience is how many people identify us.  It was certainly the topic of conversation at the funeral in Texas.  People in at least two states tend to remember the event. 

      I have heard that once struck by lightening, a person actually has a greater propensity to be struck again than one who has not. I am here to testify that after loosing one of my children, we acquired the tendency to loose them all. Strangely though, that only happened when they were 13 years old.