I remember when it was two lane. Course I was a kid then. You still got some grades on that thing... with nice sharp curves at the end of them to make it more interesting, along with many out of state flatlanders that don't know how to drive a mountain, that make it a complete bitch to drive. Especially in bad weather. Especially when they are driving a rig. I drove that thing for 6 years in a little Honda Civic. Back about 87-93. I've seen it all on that road. I've seen people lose boat off their trailers. I've seen RV's at the bottom of a curve on their sides. I've seen rigs blasting airhorns coming down a grade cause they lost their breaks and idiots that won't get out of the way. I've seen it all. I'm sure DD has as well.
I started driving the WVTP back in 1982, when it was mostly 2-lane and construction zones. It was "completed" in 1988 I think, back when Arch Moore was governor.
You must be speaking of the left handed turn at the bottom of the hill at Camp Creek, coming down off Flat Top. After 3 miles of a 5% downhill grade, not many loaded trucks had brakes left for that turn. I even saw the rear wheels on a trailer catch fire coming off that hill. Sandstone Mountain on I-64 is worse, it's a 7% grade. Slow and easy is the rule of the day on that one, UP and DOWN.
You ain't kidding about the out of state flatlanders! The ones from Ohio and North Carolina were the worst. I drove a P-30 Chevy/Grummon step-van, and the funniest thing was on what few straight stretches there are on the Turnpike, these clowns would pass you like you were backing up, UNTIL you got to the next corner, then all brake lights as you went back by them, maintaining a constant 65 the whole time.
4th of July weeks were crazy. Every other car you passed or passed you southbound was from Ohio. One of our drivers actually wrote in the dust on the back of his truck: "Will the last person leaving Ohio, please turn out the lights." They would also be the ones trying to merge in front of you whenever they "suddenly" came up on an "orange barrel zone", the one that was advertised by the flashing traffic sign 3 miles back!
The worst time I ever had was trying to get home from Huntington in a snowstorm. A normal 3 hour drive took 6 1/2 hours, with 5 of it spent on the Turnpike, dodging jackknifed tractor trailers and wondering where in the hell the snow plows were.
The scariest time was driving back one winter night when it was 15 below zero, passing tractor trailers that had stalled because their diesel fuel had turned to jell, and you were praying you gasoline engined truck would make it home because you didn't pack your sub zero sleeping bag.
I knew the Turnpike so well, this is what happened when I was pulled over by a female deputy just south of the Pax toll booth in Fayette County. I noticed the deputy was wearing a Raleigh County uniform, and when she accused me speeding because I was "passing everything on the road", and that she "was going 80 when I passed her", I informed her I was only going 63 (in a 60), that my truck was governed to do a max of 70 (I lied, no governor), the only things I passed since the toll booth were 4 trucks and her, and she should have known she was NOT doing 80 because traffic was backing up behind her. When she threatened me with a ticket, I said, "Fine, go ahead. I like to hear how you explain to the judge why a Raleigh County deputy is writing speeding tickets in Fayette County." When she practically screamed at me that we were in Raleigh County, I turned my headlights on and said, "No, not quite." 200 yards down the road was the green sign that read "Entering Raleigh County".
She threw my license and registration at me and told me to slow it down anyway, and STORMED back to her car. I waited until she had left before I pulled back onto the road.
I did get a ticket for 21 in a 10, in the southernmost point in Kanawah County, a pimple on the ass of the state in a town call Handley, just north of Montgomery. Magistrate that heard the case was not only the town's OTHER police officer, but on the town council as well.
Sounds like something you read in a book about trials in backwater redneck towns. Went about the same way, too.
