It started when we got home from Leesburg Sunday night.   There was a message on the answering machine from Alfred, "the Mayor of Mt. Crawford", reminding me that I had volunteered at the last Ruritan meeting to help him with the Ruritan Adopt-A-Highway project Monday.  Good thing he called, cause I sure had forgot. I was informed we would meet at the Ruritan Community Center in Mt. Crawford and proceed from there.

So yesterday evening, after work, I dutifully reported to the Community Center to meet my obligations.  We do this project 3 or 4 times a year.  The weather was frightful  for this type activity.... about 35, windy and snow flurries.  I hung about at my desk till the almost 5:30 so I would reach the Hall by the appointed 5:30.  Its on the way home so no point in going home first.  You guessed it.... I wasn't dressed for the part.

The thin Kahkies I had put on that morning , not thinking a bit about where I would end up, just didn't cut the mustard.  The wind blew right through them.  And since I rarely go to an outdoor activity directly from work anymore, when I'd gone out in the morning I'd worn only a light weight jacket that would be comfortable in the car.

I expect most of you have some sort of adopt-a-road program in your state where you can volunteer to pick the trash up on a regular basis.  Our club tackles the portion  of Rt 11 from Mt. Crawford down to the County Line,where the "Bronze Turkey" ( thats a whole nother story) stands.  This is the old Valley Pike for those old timers who may have driven the valley prior to 1970 or so before I-81 was opened.

Anyway, I donned my little orange vest.... I think it was made for a dwarf... climbed into the back of Alfred's pickup truck with my fellow suckers and we headed out for the highway.  At the old bridge, Alfred let a couple of us off to work our way south towards the turkey.  Somewhere about halfway he would drop off 4 more, two to work back toward us and two to continue toward the turkey.  Then Alfred and whoever got into the cab with him would continue to the turkey to start working back.

Now this is pretty much a rural stretch of highway, but being located between Harrisonburg and Staunton, it is still pretty heavily traveled, especially by those of us who detest travel via interstate.  The big problem though, is that those who use the road, seem to want to drive like they are on the Interstate.  We really have to be heads up when we go to picking up trash.  I don't believe anyone has had any bottles heaved at them, but we have had a few horn blares.

This day I am one of the ones dropped off in the middle, and begin working back towards the town.  I'm on the right side of the road, so I must constantly look over my shoulder as I move along.  Whenever possible I walk over next to the pasture fences or thru front yards.  Inevitably though there is a McDonalds burger box or a beer can over right on the edge of the pavement (no paved shoulder here).  So I watch traffic, and often make a mad dive for the trash and beat a hasty retreat.  This is when I often get toots.  As often as not these are accompanied by good natured waves or thrumbs-ups.  It makes us, who are braving the wind and snow in face feel at least a little better.  Every once in a while though we get an angry horn blare as some harried soul can't seem to find it acceptable to be inconvenienced and slow down or move over a bit as they pass.  We don't do this job for them, but we wave anyway.

Now at the end of these forays we are all picked up by Alfred on his way back in.  We throw our laded bags in to the pick up and squeeze in ourselves.  At the dumpster at the hall, we compare our hauls.  Almost every time we do this, someone discovers a real treasure.... a hubcap, or a bungee strap, a rusty screwdriver.  Once in a while someone picks up a full unopened can of beer... not doubt evidence quickly disposed of.  I have to wonder if the former owner ever came back to look for it.  This time I'm the big winner-- I have a hubcap with a broken catches and a crescent wrench with only a couple of rust spots and that still works.  The hubcap goes into the dumpster, the wrench into my truck.

Its been cold, our eyes are watering, I'll need to polish my old Rocksports, but all in all it is worth it.  People entering our little community (smallest incorporated town in Virginia) will be favorably influenced,  we've removed some hazards from our environment and hopefully by being out there we are setting an example that its OK to serve and bend one's back to help out.

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