Adventures below the Mason-Dixon line
Currently in Morehead, KY.
After about a week in Virginia, we took off today, driving through back-country roads to the odd little town of Crozet, VA. Less than 3000 people, seems to exist in its own little world, with hippie food stores and greasy lunch counters and a nice library. From there onto the surprisingly pretty interstate, traveling over the Alleghenys through West Virginia.
As we saw the Welcome to Kentucky signs, it immediately began smelling like gunpowder, due to the huge expanse of factories on our left. We drove through eastern Kentucky, where my dad worked 37 years ago, living near a guy who had murdered some union official because he thought he'd been cheated out of his pension. We ate at the Dixie Grill in Olive Hill, birthplace of Tom T. Hall. We got to eat outside, in comfy chairs, with the Confederate flag hanging over us, a la Damocles. The owner was charming and gave us another piece of catfish on the house. Great food, apparently the only decent place in town. Olive Hill is dying, the buildings are crumbling, the factory that provided jobs closed ages ago. There was a couple with a snazzy old car, one of those ancient open-air deals all painted and fixed-up, who drove past the cafe about 4 times.
On the way out of town we passed by a building with the sign: DEHART'S BIBLE AND TIRE.
After about a week in Virginia, we took off today, driving through back-country roads to the odd little town of Crozet, VA. Less than 3000 people, seems to exist in its own little world, with hippie food stores and greasy lunch counters and a nice library. From there onto the surprisingly pretty interstate, traveling over the Alleghenys through West Virginia.
As we saw the Welcome to Kentucky signs, it immediately began smelling like gunpowder, due to the huge expanse of factories on our left. We drove through eastern Kentucky, where my dad worked 37 years ago, living near a guy who had murdered some union official because he thought he'd been cheated out of his pension. We ate at the Dixie Grill in Olive Hill, birthplace of Tom T. Hall. We got to eat outside, in comfy chairs, with the Confederate flag hanging over us, a la Damocles. The owner was charming and gave us another piece of catfish on the house. Great food, apparently the only decent place in town. Olive Hill is dying, the buildings are crumbling, the factory that provided jobs closed ages ago. There was a couple with a snazzy old car, one of those ancient open-air deals all painted and fixed-up, who drove past the cafe about 4 times.
On the way out of town we passed by a building with the sign: DEHART'S BIBLE AND TIRE.