On the Road Again

Greetings from Blue Ridge, Georgia!

We drove from C-bus down to Blue Ridge, Georgia yesterday afternoon/evening. Lynda and I worked the morning hours and left a bit after lunch time. We had a bit of a struggle getting the suitcases, stuffed animals, girls bicycles, my golf clubs, Graces' new Baby Alive, some Christmas presents, snacks, drinks, DVDs, and books and activity workbooks in the van, but we found room for it all plus the all-important iPod. So, we were definitely entertained.

(I pack like Christopher Columbus--minimum needed to fit in a small space. Lynda packs like NASA--multiple redundancies and backups. I imagine that Columbus thought to himself: "I don't care how many cities are going to be named after me, the Santa Maria is pretty damned small and I don't want to be tripping on that extra barrel of salted cod all the way across the Atlantic!" Whereas Lynda thinks, "What if the the oxygen scrubbers go down? We'll need an extra filter, no, better make that TWO filters and the housing and some panty hose and a vacuum pump in case we need to construct a third scrubber if the two extra fail." Case in point--I packed four DVDs for the kids; Lynda added six more.)

The drive went well and the van came through like a champ again. It really is comfortable and I find it a very accommodating vehicle for interstate driving. I recommend it to everyone with the propensity to carry lots of stuff and people around with them when they hit the road.

I'm trying to remember the most interesting part of the 10-plus hour drive, and you know, my sleepy brain just isn't reminding me of anything. I knew I should have been taking notes as we went. As it is, this entry isn't worth much since it is lacking in the satisfying details that make all useful travel journals worth writing about. I mean, no one would have read Hemingway's travel books if he described it something like:

"We left that morning and made an easy journey from home to our destination. Nothing of any importance happened, really."

Boring as that is, it captures the Interstate travelling experience pretty well. The real fun doesn't occur until you swing off the exit ramps and hit the state highways. Take last night for instance. Driving east in northern Georgia doesn't lend itself to lots of four-lane highways, and the part of the trip where you have to pay the most attention is the part of the trip where you are the most tired. Nothing unusual did happen, but while we twisted and turned our way through the roads that take you up and down the Appalachian foothills between Dalton and Chatsworth, you do have to slow yourself down and pay attention. The fog thickened, the girls woke up (and Grace threatened to get car sick), and I worried about deer.

I found myself trying to remember the name of some strange Bigfoot-like creature that my siblings and I would joke about while we drove similar N. Georgia roads when camping as kids. It was something with skunk in the name, but I couldn't remember the rest--skunkfox, skunkbear, skunkwolf? None of those are right and I'm not giving you enough context to really understand what I'm talking about. I'll consult with MSquared, Muleskinner, and MA to see if they can remember.

Until next entry . . .