CONNECTING CAR to 1942... my story in the past

Time to put my idea into practice. This is part story, part game, but I'd prefer to keep some control over where the story goes. So here are the rules for this thread:

- Discussion welcome! I'm here to learn about the past as well as have fun writing. Please correct my many mistakes!

- In order to keep on track to hit the topics I'd like to, I may not include others' continuations of the plot as the "actual" story. But feel free to write what you like anyway!

- I may or may not take suggestions for situations or challenges for my character to face, but I'd love to hear from you.

This will be a tale of getting transported to the past from a spot I was travelling through a few days back. I will have to change some geography, but I'll try to keep things recognizable (until I go places I don't personally know). With that, let's begin!

Day 1: In Which I Don't Come Home

"Come on, darned roses..." I muttered, unsnagging my coat from another invasive thorn bush. It was ice cold and snowy in the northern Pennsylvania forests, and I just wanted to get home with the little Christmas tree I had cut. About a half-mile of trails awaited before I got back to the farmhouse, and the snow-in-your-boots feeling wasn't raising my holiday cheer.

Spotting a patch of clear ground, beyond a pine bent into an arch by an ice storm, I headed right for it. Less snow in the boots would be welcome. But I wasn't ready for what greeted me on the other side...


This was DEFINATELY the same lay of the land, but... well, for one, there was no multiflora rose in sight, so I counted THAT a major blessing! The woods were gone, replaced with open fields of half-grown hay. A farm surrounded by grazing cows spread out on the opposite side of the valley. It was all so surreal, at first I couldn't take it seriously.

"Well, this region isn't old-growth forest," I thought, "If I've travelled back in time, I'm in the, er, well after the lumber boom, at least, but before the..." I couldn't remember when the Northern Tier wilds began to look wild again, maybe the '60s. Still feeling as if I was in some video game, I headed down the road away from the farm. I was in no state to interact with anyone.


I took refuge under the valley road's bridge as darkness fell. I sketched a crude map of what I'd seen so far that day, and what I recognized. Old foundation sites were now houses and barns. Railroad tracks stretched down the adjoining major stream's valley, though I had not seen or heard a train. I presumed I was in the '20s. Or perhaps dead and on some path to whatever comes next? I lost myself in philosophy for a while.

The pickup truck changed all of that. I heard it coming and emerged from under the bridge, to see this.


I recognized the model from my living room at home: a 1936 Dodge, well worn and dirty here. And clearly old, but not preserved-antique old. More like a beat-up everyday farm truck, with 1942 plates.

I stayed hidden from the driver, but not from fear itself. I was back in time, back in the woods, with only a Christmas tree and the clothes on my back. Homesickness hit me like a speeding train, and I lay down hungrily on my spread coat to sleep.



End of day situation: Lost in North PA, alone, avoiding human contact. No possessions save for clothes, pocket contents, and a cut young pine tree.

Decision to make: Do I attempt to visit the farmers on what will someday be my family's land, or make for the small towns nearby?

I'd attempt to visit the farmers, to ease into your new whereabouts in time, but you need to think up a really good cover story as to why you're stranded in the country and in need of assistance first.