Barbara Mann reports a Fast Forward road trip TWIDDER—inspite of treacherous winter road conditions—she experienced as a college student. Her spacetime slip included her sleepy roommate. (See theparanomalist.com for original posting.) Oh, the many multiple-hour-long road trips I’ve made as a parent with a car-full of crabby kids where I WISH I could have experienced a Fast Forward spacetime slip!
I was about 19 years old at the time, in college at University of Tennessee-Knoxville campus, and had been invited by a boy I had met to visit him at Fort Knox, Kentucky over New Year’s. My roommate and I debated the trip and decided at the last minute to go.
It was very cold, snowing and the roads (this was in ’67) over the mountains between the two places were an icy mishmash of secondary and short stretches of interstate roads under construction, far different from the smooth interstates we travel on now. It took us about eight (hair-raising) hours to make the trip in our little Volkswagen bug.
When we got there, the whole experience of seeing the boy again was a disappointment, so we simply decided to get back in the car and go home even though it was in the wee hours of the morning.
I took what I thought was going to be the first leg of driving and found myself slowly creeping over more and more treacherous icy roads. To my dismay, my roommate had immediately fallen into a deep sleep.
After a couple of hours I tried to wake her so she could drive for a bit, but no amount of yelling, shaking or cold air with the windows down would wake her. I didn’t think too much about it as she was an early to bed person and a very sound sleeper, so I drove on, thinking sooner or later she would wake up . . . but no.
I continued driving, rolling down the window, playing music and trying periodically to wake her . . . to no avail. There were no convenient rest stops or eating places back then. No well-lighted roads, and businesses were few and far between, and didn’t stay open all night back then either. I resigned myself to driving the rest of the way with no help, the roads getting worse and worse.
I seemed to sense myself “fading out” . . . like going on “auto pilot” and THEN . . . I found myself pulling into the parking lot of our apartment complex, at about 7 AM—at which time my roommate woke up and asked groggily, “Where are we Now?” I told her “Home.”
She looked at her watch and said, “That’s impossible.” We had apparently traveled the entire way in less than five hours. Even weirder, though, we both realized how bizarre the experience was, we never discussed it again. It was almost as if it was a taboo subject.