Just a few shots from the Smokys. (We did more than just breakdown while visiting.)

Probably our biggest complaint about the Great Smoky Mountains - at least near Pigeon Forge, Tennessee - is how crowded they are. After driving a loop that felt like standing in line at Disney World we consulted the map - aha! A twelve mile dirt road that is rarely driven! We’ll be away from the crowds and into the mountains! Perfect!

Now, if you’ve been following along with our adventures at all, you’ll notice one consistency: our adventures tend to get really exciting when the van misbehaves. These adventures have ranged from the amusing (like the time we almost ran out of gas when we discovered that the gas cap locks itself from time to time - requiring a special key, which we didn’t have on hand at the time) to the less enjoyable (like the time we were nearly stranded in Pennsylvania with all of our treasured belongings and two cranky travel cats).

It should probably come as no surprise to you that this adventure followed along these rather predictable lines: a mile and a half up the mountain (on a one way road) we heard a giant clunk. Five minutes later, and we noticed the oil gauge was rocketing towards what mechanics officially call “WAY TOO HOT.”

We pulled over, popped the hood, and noticed the fan was, well, no longer there. 

With tools made out of sticks and a tshirt, Justin started fishing parts of the no-longer intact fan blades out of the front of the car. How the fan exploded, we weren’t sure - but there wasn’t much we could do but sit and wait for the car to cool down.

Reading in the Smoky Mountains as we waited for the engine to cool down; photo by Justin Hamel

A half hour later and we were back at it again - we drove with one eye on the oil temp and one eye on the road. (If this seems like a dangerous idea while driving switchbacks on a narrow road in the mountains, don’t worry - the math averaged out to two eyes on the road and two eyes on the oil temp.) 

A buck - a six point beauty who looked to be about four or five years old - ran up to the side of the road and ran along next to us. He was close enough to touch before he scampered up the side of the mountain. 

We pulled back off the road to let the van cool off again at the highest point of our twelve mile journey. We removed the grill to allow more air into the engine and once the van seemed ready, we took advantage of gravity - we put the van in neutral and coasted for five miles down the mountain. 

When we hit the main road we turned the heat on full blast to pull the heat away from the engine. If you’ve ever driven two and a half hours in 90 plus weather with two sweaty adventurers and the heat on full blast, you can imagine the scene (and the smell). 

I grabbed this shot as we snaked our way through the main roads and back to NC

General verdict? Adventure cut short by misbehaving van: jury is still out on the Smokys. In the meantime, I’m sticking with my Black Mountains in North Carolina.  

While we travel this year, for as long as we travel, our roots are in Mosheim, Tennessee. We needed a permanent address, as well as a space to return to throughout the year. Since we left New England behind, we relocated homebase to a family member’s home. Just an hour and a half (or so) across State lines, Mosheim is a new world of rolling farmland, southern drawls, and night skies for us.

It’s also where our cars are registered - and where we recently grabbed our driver’s licenses. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect at the DMV in a small town in Tennessee. My last adventure at such a place involved me spending 4.5 hours at the DMV in downtown Boston. In fact, I was there for so long that I left after two hours, walked back to my office to grab my laptop, walked back to the DMV, and worked for about two hours before it was finally my time at the front of the line.

With that in mind, we planned a full day - and it was our turn before we even finished our paperwork. Flustered (albeit pleasantly surprised) by both the speed and the friendliness of our new State, I stepped up to grab my new photo.

When I was told to look at the blue dot, I grinned - not unlike the Joker.

“How bad was that photo?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s fine honey,” she drawled. “Sign right here.”

I signed and I noticed my photo. It was not fine - but hey, this was a moment for vanity.

“No shame in a horrible drivers license photo, it’s more interesting than a good one,” I reasoned to myself.

As I filled out signed my name on the next form I realized my name was spelled incorrectly - and imagine my joy when she apologized that she’d need to take a new photo of me to fix the mistake. Having learned from the last one, I looked in the correct place and kept my smile at a more appropriate decibel. The result was a picture that looked a bit less like a comic book villian, and more like one of Gotham City’s citizens out for an enjoyable Sunday drive.

Yet one more time being Jordyn with a Y has paid off.