thursday the 11th of november
So, Day One.
From my diary, and I quote, "left late. drove a lot. got here. ate. am sleepy."
Not enough?
How about popping my Cracker Barrel cherry? I mean, I get why people love it. Cherry-covered pancakes. Old-school candy in the store. Games to play while you wait for your food. I get it.
How about the fact that North Carolina NEVER ENDS? No, seriously, it just keeps going and going and going. And I get that it's I-95 and if we'd taken other roads rather than just go through the Piedmont it would be different. But then, Wisconsin's different off the freeway and driving through it still bores the hell out of me. Though, come to think of it, the crap road surface sure livened up the drive.
South Of The Border. Yeah, don't really get it. But it's a landmark and I was there.
South Carolina. Huh. Gotta tell you, that last driving leg really wore me out. Driving mostly into the sun as it sunk to the horizon, but then it dropped and the sky was on fire. There were silhouettes between me and the blaze. Palms and pines and a slight rolling ground, all a flat deep black between me and this pink-orange-purple-red-ish wide open sky. I'm not describing it well, but it was wicked awesome. And wicked spooky with the mist that rolled in off Lake Marion (named for Francis Marion, Swamp Fox, inspiration behind The Patriot, guerrilla warrior against the British and rampant racist of epic proportions). And wicked pain-in-the-ass to drive with impaired depth perception.
Driving brings me back to pulling into Charleston. The signage in the whole state needs some serious work. I mean, I sort of need to know whether I'm going right or left before the actual turn, especially if the road I'm on is three lanes.
Of course, they are all used to this in Charleston and so are Incredibly Patient with the crazy car with out-of-state plates and major road-dirt who can't seem to make up her mind. (Almost as patient as the passenger trying to navigate set driver on their way, but that's a whole other day.)
From my diary, and I quote, "left late. drove a lot. got here. ate. am sleepy."
Not enough?
How about popping my Cracker Barrel cherry? I mean, I get why people love it. Cherry-covered pancakes. Old-school candy in the store. Games to play while you wait for your food. I get it.
How about the fact that North Carolina NEVER ENDS? No, seriously, it just keeps going and going and going. And I get that it's I-95 and if we'd taken other roads rather than just go through the Piedmont it would be different. But then, Wisconsin's different off the freeway and driving through it still bores the hell out of me. Though, come to think of it, the crap road surface sure livened up the drive.
South Of The Border. Yeah, don't really get it. But it's a landmark and I was there.
South Carolina. Huh. Gotta tell you, that last driving leg really wore me out. Driving mostly into the sun as it sunk to the horizon, but then it dropped and the sky was on fire. There were silhouettes between me and the blaze. Palms and pines and a slight rolling ground, all a flat deep black between me and this pink-orange-purple-red-ish wide open sky. I'm not describing it well, but it was wicked awesome. And wicked spooky with the mist that rolled in off Lake Marion (named for Francis Marion, Swamp Fox, inspiration behind The Patriot, guerrilla warrior against the British and rampant racist of epic proportions). And wicked pain-in-the-ass to drive with impaired depth perception.
Driving brings me back to pulling into Charleston. The signage in the whole state needs some serious work. I mean, I sort of need to know whether I'm going right or left before the actual turn, especially if the road I'm on is three lanes.
Of course, they are all used to this in Charleston and so are Incredibly Patient with the crazy car with out-of-state plates and major road-dirt who can't seem to make up her mind. (Almost as patient as the passenger trying to navigate set driver on their way, but that's a whole other day.)