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Monday, December 9, 2013

South for Troutville

Joyce insisted we get up early and get on the road because we would be going such a long way, for us: 300 miles. And we had to pack Van O’White first, which meant the night before, we put everything in the living room, just inside the front door. I would then go get the van and drive it down, park illegally right in front, and we would load. And the night before, Joyce had emptied and dried the large cooler, then filled it up with all our fragile prizes. The little cooler would suffice for those few days on the road.

Here’s the last picture from our “neighborhood.” Someone has done a hell of a job on this Victorian restoration, which we callled the Queen Bee. It would be great if the rest of the neighborhood would catch up, but we’ll never know. We had to be out no later than ten, leaving a load of laundry going in the washer, and having swept the floor, or they would charge us a fee. On TOP of their outrageous prices. So the chances we would return there are slim to none, especially since we discovered a Red Roof Inn right down the road. Just kidding, but there are plenty of other places to stay.
Fortunately every inch of the way was interstate, including a stretch of Pennsylvania Turnpike, which apparently hasn't been re-surfaced since my mother first drove on it in the 60s. Luckily that was the short part. And there were lots of great leaves but also lots of traffic and no easy or safe way to pull over for pictures. Being as tired as we were, we wanted to keep stops to a minimum so we could rest up as much as possible in our hotel every night. We got in well before dark and went to the same Cracker Barrel we ate in two weeks earlier. Guess what. On Saturday night, they're not nearly as efficient as midweek or lunch hours. I like Cracker Barrel but now I know better about weekends.

And so to bed.

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