Getting a different view

I found an exquisite view at the top of a ski mountain last Friday. It allowed for a look miles over the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Shadows of peaks surrounded us for 360 degrees at the top of the mountain turned bike trail and disc golf course in the summer. The tree line here creeps toward the top of the hills and the view was powerful from heights I’m unaccustomed to.
Pen City Current took our summer break over the past two weeks and I hung out high in the Blue Ridge Mountains in a home I had to use 4-wheel drive just to get to the garage. My daughter and I drove in tandem with my brother’s family and we met seven others there.
We went on a small hike on Thursday and found ourselves at the top of a waterfall where the water pooled behind some boulders before trickling free and racing to the edge of the cliff and dumping into the pool below.
Water from the top of the mountains filled this pool which dumped into the waterfall. It had to have been below 50 degrees, but there was no way I wasn’t getting in for a swim. My nephew was the first one in finding adventure on some sliding rocks and rickety rope swing.
I dumped my shoes and socks and waded in in my shorts and a t-shirt. The wading in turned into a full submersion in what was crystal clear water. No mud or anything, just perfectly clean water. You wanted to taste it but scouting told me you don’t do that until you can boil it. So I didn’t.
The swim worked on the muscles and joints nicely and, after about an hour, we got out, dried off, and headed back to our vehicles a couple miles away. The bear spray I was ribbed about for the whole week, stayed in my backpack.
Friday we ended up on a ski lift to the top of the winter ski mountain where you could walk to an unencumbered edge that looked all of 1,500 feet straight down into the valley. I took a deep breath and walked to the edge holding a pretty shaky tree limb, looked over the edge much to the chagrin of Taylor, who kept urging me back. We took some pictures and left for a safer view on the lounge patio.
We did a panoramic picture of the view and we’re going to print it out about 18 feet wide and hang it on the back of John's house under a three-season patio so we always can have that view.
It was a good week with family. Those are memories that you can’t give away. They stick with you. Overcoming some fears of heights and the frigid mountain bath will be a few I keep with me. The time with my daughter is also fully banked in my brain.
The gas station that inadvertently put diesel fuel into my truck, however, couldn’t be forgotten soon enough. To make a long story short, the past week has been spent navigating two insurance companies' ongoing efforts to reduce their exposure at the expense of the person wronged.
I don’t know if it’s just me or if the world really has changed, but I’ve been regularly floored over the past six days at how disconnected people are from each other anymore. It’s almost scary. My truck sits at the Ford dealership in Marion, Illinois untouched because these two agencies are bickering about liability and claims. The dealership said I need a new engine as the diesel fouled most of the internal parts and the cylinder compression, whatever that means, was down to about 15%. One adjuster was at the dealership at the time of the diagnostic work and an estimate surfaced on a rebuilt engine for about $15,000. Both companies got the estimate and went to work trying to find a cheaper avenue. It’s like a doctor saying you need a new knee and the insurance companies saying heat and ice are fine. And, because there’s no avenue for advocacy aside from an expensive lawsuit, you end up with heat and ice…until you need a new knee.
It's not the inconvenience that bothers me, it’s how these two operate like, well…diesel and gasoline. They will not coordinate the repairs until they find out who’s gonna handle the claim. Both sides tell me its up to me, but if I go with my insurance company, they will only pay for a used engine, not a remanufactured engine. But if I go with the other company, they will total the truck and issue me a check based on their figures and comparable pricing in the market. Neither sounds good to me, especially when the dealership recommends the rebuilt engine.
It's been such a siege that I think it’s literally changing me. I’ve always subscribed to the notion that kindness wins out, but I’m quickly changing to the 'it doesn’t pay to be the nice guy' philosophy. And that’s a shame and scary. My daughter is as cynical as ever, but in the past few days she’s cautioned me to be the same person I’ve been and not get sucked into the emotion of society today.
I’m trying, but I sure am weighing the value of that. It’s more of my instinct to turn inward, get focused on what I can control, and stop worrying about what everyone else is going through. But what kind of world is that when people just stop giving a crap?
I went to the 2x4s for Hope worksite Saturday and saw 22 people crawling all over Bill Scott’s new home. It was a sight to see, it really was. There was reaffirmation in those 60 minutes I spent talking with Scott and the 2x4s people. It knocked on my soul a bit. We’re still here. I guess I’ll hold off on any wholesale changes of personality.
For now.
Another thing I discovered at our retreat was that a marshmallow bit in half is a wicked and fairly safe projectile for a food fight – But that’s Beside the Point.
Chuck Vandenberg is editor and co-owner of Pen City Current and can be reached at Charles.V@PenCityCurrent.com.