Holy smokes, everyone! We’ve hit one hundred days of travel. Back in elementary school, the teachers would make a huge fuss about the hundredth day of school, and we would participate in themed activities, the specifics of which I’ve long forgotten. I did not celebrate one hundred days. I’m not sure what that would look like, exactly. One hundred Diet Cokes?
I had my heart set on Martin’s Restaurant in downtown Montgomery, so I hung around the suburbs for a while, reading and relaxing. Once lunchtime rolled around, I schlepped into the restaurant and was immediately out of place in the post-church crowd. Everyone else wore collared shirts or blouses; I had my New England Patriots t-shirt and a baseball hat. I was also the youngest patron by thirty years. Go figure. The meal was absolutely worth it. I ordered the “famous” fried chicken with stuffing, greens, and string beans, and received a top-notch plate of Southern specials. The turnip greens in particular were exceptional. I suspect it had something to do with the chunks of bacon fat floating around in them.
I waddled out and settled into the driver’s seat for a long afternoon. I wound through southeast Alabama and crossed into Georgia as the sun set. I was finally back on Eastern time. The route was nondescript, but there were moments when I forgot I was in the South and felt like I was driving the roads back home. The placement of the trees, the curvature of the roads—especially once the sun had set and the sharp sunlight was gone, it felt completely natural.
Then I smashed into the Florida panhandle and the world around me snapped back into tropical focus. The palm trees were back, almost on cue. I drove into the Tallahassee vicinity hoping to stay at the Walmart, but they don’t allow overnight parking. Then to the rest stop off the interstate—but, of course, Florida only allows passenger vehicles to stay for three hours. I’m off to the forests now, hoping to find a quiet spot there. Wish me luck.
“Creepy alligator coming all around the bend
Talking bout the times when we was mutual friends
I check my memory I check it quick — yes I will
I check it running
Some old kind of trick…” — Grateful Dead
When your great-grandfather drove down to Florida on his summer vacation during the Depression, he and his buddies parked their car on the side of the road, pitched their blankets on the roadside and went to sleep. When they awoke, only the roof of their car was still visible — the swamp had swallowed it up. They wound up having to hitchhike all the way back to New Jersey, subsisting on a diet of watermelon and Dr. Pepper.
Be careful, Jake. You don’t want to tempt a fate like that!
100 days, huh? Well, look at what Napoleon accomplished in 100 days. As he remarked in a letter to Louis XVIII after returning to France from Elba: “Please do not send any more soldiers — I have enough already!”
Of course, those 100 days did not end too well (for Napoleon at least).
Be of good cheer, Jake — it took Odysseus only 10 YEARS to find his way home!
I think most likely the elderly crowd at Martin’s was a bunch of church going people (it was Sunday) that were having Sunday dinner after church. That’s why they were all dressed up. Just a guess. Glad you found the meal worth the wait! You’re going to miss all these wonderful meals. Wouldn’t it be fun to be a restaurant critic for a living? You have a way with words, so you would be off to a good start. Just get in touch with a newspaper that’s looking for a columnist to appraise the area restaurants. Even part time it would be fun. You’re moving right along, now that you have ended up in FL. Wondering if you will go to Disney. Be careful, though, of where you park overnight. I think it was FL where there was a scammer who under the guise of having a broken down car on the side of the road ended up shooting the good samaritan who stopped to help her. She was looking to rob helpers. Just be careful. And enjoy FL! See you soon. Love, Grandma
Ugh… Disneyworld!
I wonder how many Americans it occurs to that Disney and Disneyworld is part of what’s wrong with America? By catering to our escapist fantasies from a very early age, Disney encourages us to avoid any adversity in life and seek a more reassuring fantasy. It’s worse than James Bond (who actually dwells in a dangerous world)!
I remember when some friends tried to get me to accompany them to Disneyworld many years ago.
“Nope,” I told them, “If I wanted to see six-foot, anthropomorphized mice, I’d just stay home and take LSD. It’s CHEAPER.”