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Seventeen years ago today, my husband, daughter and I moved into our newly completed home.

I can still see our toddler daughter walking from empty room to empty room in wonder.

Everything was sparkling and new. The modest house held the mixed smell of new wood, paint and carpet.

The yard outside waited for the newly planted seeds to grow. In the days and weeks leading up to this, we lived in a blur of packing boxes while chasing a busy toddler. We also had recently discovered I was pregnant again.

We drove to the home site regularly to stay up to date on its progress.

On one such occasion, my husband, daughter and I were in the car on Interstate 85 driving toward Gibsonville. I-85 was being widened from four lanes to eight, and there were concrete walls on both sides of the lanes for many miles of the trip.

About two or three miles from the Rock Creek Dairy Road exit, we started noticing some heavy white smoke coming out of the tailpipe of the car. Unable to pull to the side of the road because of the walls, we continued driving until the next exit.

Pulling over to the shoulder of the exit ramp, my husband discovered we needed antifreeze. He walked to the Exxon station at the top of the exit ramp to buy a gallon.

As he poured the antifreeze into the car, it instantly poured back out into a puddle underneath the car. We knew we would need to have the car towed. We made the trip back up to the lone service station to request assistance.

The mechanics on duty that day quickly looked over our car. They informed us our water pump and timing belt would need to be replaced and that there was nothing more that we could do that day.

We tried to call my mother and his parents for a ride, but nobody was home. We were stuck.

The area around Rock Creek Dairy Road was not built up as it is today -- no Stoney Creek Shopping Center, no McDonald's, no CVS, no Bojangles, no Jersey Mikes, no Food Lion.

All we could see on either side was a large tree-filled area of land bordered by a long white split-rail fence.

It was getting to be about lunch time. Since our original plan was to visit the home site and then get some lunch on our way home, we did not bring any food besides some Cheerios for our daughter.

Unfamiliar with the area, we were unsure whether to start walking down Burlington Road towards Burlington or Greensboro. We did not know how far we would have to walk in either direction to find food and a place to wait until we could get in touch with someone who could come get us to take us home.

In the end, we began walking toward Greensboro, with a stroller and diaper bag.

Some kind folks took pity on us and offered us a ride. Though we appreciated the offers, we did not accept as we still could hear those voices loud and clear that had warned us not get in the car of a stranger.

Eventually, we made our way through Sedalia to the Gastown in McLeansville. We successfully got in touch with my mother, who said she would be there as soon as she could. While we waited, we went inside to buy a sandwich that I split with my daughter.

It's fascinating to consider all the changes that have taken place in the areas where we walked so many years ago. I cannot drive through the area between Rock Creek Dairy Road and Knox Road without being amazed at how much things have changed and continue to change.

When we first decided to move out here, there was nothing much at the intersection of Rock Creek Dairy Road and Burlington Road. Now it's a busy, thriving crossroad in the countryside of Eastern Guilford County that we have come to know well and love.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.