I have two, and they’re both from West Virginia:

The first was on the way to white water rafting for a friends bachelor party. I was driving my Mazdaspeed 6 and had one friend with me as a passenger.

After following a narrow, winding mountain road deep into the middle of nowhere, my GPS told me to turn right. We crossed the one-lane wood bridge over the river we had been following for the last ~30 miles, and immediately followed with a left turn onto a gravel road. I was having a lot of fun at first but then, a few miles in, the rocks started getting bigger. We were forced to slow down but continued on our way.

No less than half an hour after turning off the alread-sketchy mountain road, the woman in my GPS told us to “Continue onto Jeep Trail.” We briefly considered turning around but any other route was going to set us back at least two hours.

It took over an hour to cover the next 10 miles, including two water crossings and much damage to the bottom of my car. Fortunately, the remaining ~15 miles were less like a Jeep Trail and more like a gravel/dirt rally course. The car was already beat up (and it’s just a car) so we went crazy, had some more fun, and only almost died once.

The second incident was on the way to Snowshoe for some skiing with my wife and her family, also driving my Mazdaspeed 6.

My brother-in-law had printed out directions for everyone and we had been following those for most of the trip, even though the GPS didn’t always agree. Then we got stuck behind some asshat truck driver who insisted on going 35 in a 50 and refused to use any of the pull-offs to let us pass. I eventually ran out of patience for his asshattery and took the opportunity to get away from him the next time our GPS told us to turn, even though the printed directions wanted us to keep following the same road.

Long story short, the road kept getting narrower and less road-like, in perfect harmony with the light dusting of snow getting heavier and turning into real accumulation on the road. The change was so gradual that nothing really seemed wrong until we were driving through 6" of snow with a small ditch, then a mountain to our right, and a steep drop into an icy river on our left. By this time it was starting to get dark, but we decided not to turn around since that would add hours to our trip (plus the road was too narrow to turn around so we would have been forced to drive backward a few miles) and we were only 5 miles from the next official highway.

Over those 5 miles, the depth of the snow increased to 8+ inches and we had to dig out from under the car 4 or 5 times just to get the tires back on the ground. Few times in my life have I been as relieved as when we finally saw the sign for the next highway. We passed under the highway and were able to carry enough momentum to make it up the ramp. Our hearts sank when we saw that the highway was also covered in snow. We tried to push on, following a faint set of truck tire marks. We made it over a few more hills before getting stuck again and getting out to dig. That’s when I realized the “truck” tracks we had been following were actually from snowmobiles, and the snow was at least a foot deep.

We stopped for the night. It was 6° outside and not much better in the car; it quickly filled with fumes when we tried starting the engine to warm up. The only signs of human life through the night were a couple helicopters that didn’t respond to our flashlight signals.

The next morning we started hiking. Some of the views were incredible, but hard to enjoy given the circumstances. I chose not to point out the mountatin lion tracks to my wife - they came out of the woods and followed the road for about 50 feet before heading off into the trees again.

13 miles later (through the mountains in 12"+ of snow), we finally arrived at a cleared road and got a ride to the nearest functioning phone.

We literally called every towing company in the phone book. Only one was willing to try to get to where my car was stuck. Jim wanted us to come with him, so we borrowed the in-laws’ SUV and drove there. When we arrived, it quickly became obvious that he didn’t want to do the job, but he kept his word. We climbed into his Jeep Wrangler (lifted on 37" off-road tires) and headed toward my car.

Still a few miles away, we got the Wrangler stuck. My wife was having a panic attack in the back seat (something about narrow snowy roads and drop-offs into icy rivers) so I suggested we get a ride out and come back the next day. That’s when Jim said “Hell no! I’ve seen what happens to cars that get left out here!” I was curious what he meant, but decided it was best for my health to just let it go.

Eventually Jim got ahold of a buddy with a massive 4WD farm tractor who owed him a favor, and I convinced Jim to have his wife pick up my wife and me (of course we had to hike a couple more miles back to a place where she could meet us in her truck). The tractor was just showing up on a trailer as we were getting into the truck to leave.

Jim pulled out the Wrangler first, then went back in for my car, arriving there shortly after sunrise the next morning. Luckily, he got there just in time to chase away the snowmobile pirates (I swear I’m not making this up). They’ve been known to steal any valuables from abandoned cars before burning them - my car still had all of our luggage in it, including two laptops and all of our ski gear.

My windows had some damage from the pirates trying to break in, but they didn’t get any of our stuff, and the $800 towing bill was better than expected.

West Virginia: 2

GPS: 0