The fog of night
The fog of night

Fog, lots of fog, engulfed my Wrangler as a I drove from Roanoke to Floyd Monday night.

On Bent Mountain, my pace slowed to less than 30 miles per hour because the thick, overwhelming, blanket of fog turned visibility to near zero.  I continued to drive gingerly on a road that I know well.

It lifted a little at the top of Bent Mountain but settled back in again before the Floyd County line and continued to engulf the car on a drive with virtually no traffic except for an 18-wheeler I encountered moving at a snail’s pace about eight miles from Floyd.

Then, for some reason, it cleared as I approached Poor Farm Road just across the Little River Bridge.  Normally, fog settles in over the river.  Not on this strange and eerie night.

It was as bad as I have ever encountered on that stretch of road.

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