Cruisin' the back roads
From the Wednesday, Feb. 25, 2015 issue of the North Stoddard Countian
4:15 a.m., Feb. 24, 2015, Hattiesburg, Mississippi: In a couple of hours, we'll hit the road to continue our journey back to the frigid shores of Missouri. It was 84 degrees yesterday morning, when we left Ocala, Florida, and it was 42 degrees last night, when we reached Hattiesburg. No ice, but a stiff wind nearly knocked us over.
Reality bites.
For nearly two months now, we've been enjoying the balmy weather of that most idyllic of conditions--southern Florida--where we and 8,000 of our best friends fled across the border to escape the wrath of Old Man Winter. He is a crusty bugger.
My readers (all two of them, as Paul Corbin used to say) have probably surmised that I, like Dorothy and Toto, have not been writing from Kansas--or Missouri. I do hope you've enjoyed the stories from outside Stoddard County as much as I've enjoyed writing them. I still have a few unwritten stories left to cheer me up, as I join the rest of you in the frozen wasteland that is our homeland.
For those few souls who might harbor some bitterness at not being able to flee to the golden land with me, you can console yourself with the knowledge that, any day, Florida will sink under the ocean with the weight of all the tourists that continue to overload the state's highways and RV Parks.
The BFF heard the startling figures that this year, 8,000 new people are coming to Florida every WEEK--and Governor Rick Scott is still wanting more. I think the current total of yearly tourists is up to 86 million, and the governor is shooting for 100 million.
No studies have been done to determine the tipping point when the state will sink under the weight of tourists and their little dogs.
I enjoy the trip to and from our sunny destination, almost as much as I enjoy the sunshine state itself. Fortunately, the BFF shares my dislike of the interstate highways.
I appreciate President Eisenhower's dedication to an interstate highway to connect the nation, and I recognize the contribution that the nation's interstate system has made in developing our nation, BUT (big "but") I also see what has happened to the towns that were bypassed by the big interstate highways.
All through the back roads of Florida, Alabama, Tennessee, Arkansas and Missouri we see little towns with empty shopping malls and decaying buildings. The old gas stations are particularly heart-wrenching, as they sit alongside the highways, waiting for customers who abandoned them years ago. You can almost hear the voices, echoing out of the crumbling walls.
I love the back roads.
There is history in the back roads, and very few motorists try to kill us, as they do on the interstates.
Near Perry, Florida, we see feral hogs, rooting in the soft dirt beside the highway. They scamper back into the woods, as we slow down to take photos.
In one dusty town, we stop at the only business in town, a gas station/quick shop, where we buy some delicious fried chicken and potato wedges from a little black grandma with a sweet smile, who searches through the case for the largest piece of chicken tender she can find. We eat our lunch outside in the car, under a huge live oak tree, dripping with Spanish moss. I toss the last half of my egg roll to the little squirrels who are playing around an aging picnic table.
Life is good.
Comments
- -- Posted by Dexterite1 on Wed, Feb 25, 2015, at 7:41 PM
- -- Posted by goat lady on Thu, Feb 26, 2015, at 8:54 PM
- -- Posted by lovebooks on Thu, Mar 5, 2015, at 1:27 PM
- -- Posted by Madeline1 on Thu, Mar 5, 2015, at 4:14 PM
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