Day One Saturday, July 11, 2026
The goal was to be on the road by 10 a.m. By 9:45, we were pulling out of our Richmond driveway.
Earlier that morning, I commiserated with our next door neighbor whose family was heading to Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. While our destination was Topsail Island, North Carolina, we both would be at the whims of I-95.
From Maine to Florida, I-95, America’s east coast interstate, eagerly awaited us.
No matter how many attempts designers and engineers with expertise in road construction and traffic control have made to improve this connector of cities and states, in a blink I-95 can become a nightmare.
We did pretty well until 12 noon. That’s when my Commander Supreme’s phone turned bright red.
It wasn’t long before both southbound lanes began a slow crawl down the overheated road surface. We heard no sirens from emergency vehicles. Saw no flashing blue lights from state troopers rushing along the breakdown lane. No flashing signs telling drivers to move into the left lane. No tow truck drivers with yellow lights flashing following the state troopers.
No, what caused this two lane backup was a broken down tractor trailer in the travel lane. Apparently, the truck decided to die in such a way that the driver was not able to coax the monster into the breakdown lane.
Eventually, we worked our way off the interstate to a maze of North Carolina highways that with the correct turns would lead us on to Topsail Island. I can tell you this—I wouldn’t recommend making this drive in the dark of night.
The further east we drove into the coastal plain the deeper you move away from what I take for granted in Richmond.
Way out here, drugstores and storage units are not on every corner. There is no sprawl.
Much of what drivers see in these tiny communities are single, stand alone businesses— a Family Dollar store, a service station at an intersection, and an occasional non-chain restaurant.
Interestingly, we did pass multiple churches, sometimes a school, lots of trailers, and large plots of farmland with corn, soybeans, tobacco, and cotton. It was clear that North Carolina like Virginia is in the midst of a significant drought.
The impact of the drought was most notable with the corn. The corn was parched, stunted by the lack of rain. The corn’s normal lush green has been baked by the sun squeezing out its internal moisture and fading the green.
Hopefully, the drought will gradually resolve itself without too much hurt to farmers and consumers.
On the last miles before the beach, the real challenge for me is trying to figure out why we have been unable to solve and stop the generational cycles of poverty.
All along this route, I see weary looking house trailers. Abandoned, overgrown, houses dot the landscape too. I wonder how many families on either side of the road are barely hanging on? Do they feel any betrayal from the politicians they have supported over the years? Why can’t we break these cycles?
As we approach Surf City on Topsail Island, the traffic lights are blinking red. Trained volunteers are placed at these critical intersections. The volunteers had the challenge of directing all of us crazed tourists before we crossed the intercostal waterway on the Surf City Bridge.
Once over the bridge, we worked our way around the traffic circle to our exit. We drove a short distance before we hooked a left on Raleigh Avenue followed by a quick right on to South Shore Drive. A few more feet, and we arrived at our home for the week—Sitting In The Sand.
Hot, humid air greeted us. Unloading cars started.
Members of our family who were scheduled to arrive on Saturday made it safely.
As we settled in, plans were made to visit the beach and order pizza for dinner.
The house appears to be perfect for our needs. The restless Atlantic Ocean will be in our sight lines all week.
And, I’ll have lots of time to ponder my generational poverty question.
might be baloney 