Photo Credit: John Hamill
The Blue Ridge Parkway turns 75 year. For those raised near this canopied roadway, it’s hard to imagine life before it. Where did you take Sunday drives? Hike? Make out?
Originally a public works project during the Great Depression, the 355 mile Parkway has become the gateway to the Blue Ridge for millions of visitors and an easy retreat for locals.
I have a few favorite Parkway memories. I bet you do too. Please post a comment telling us all about them.
When I was a teen, I drove the Parkway like a madman. I’d load up friends in my Monza Starfire, which had dropped its muffler and several hubcaps long before, and go looking for the hardest bends. I took those corners so fast; it’s a wonder my wheels didn’t pop off. The car sped over every inch of asphalt — the shoulders and both sides of the road. I weaved across lane lines like they were a suggestion, not the law. I should have been arrested.
My favorite curve was (and still is) just off the Parkway proper, on Route 60 headed into Buena Vista, Virginia. The whole road looks like dropped yarn, but this one bend forces you into a full 180 degree turn. I hit it with white knuckles and the wheels bucking every time. Rubber squealed. Friends squealed. Leaves and grit sprayed out behind me. It was as stupid and exhilarating as flying on homemade wings.