There is something Romantic and cool about driving with the windows down—the wind whipping through your hair, tunes blasting from the stereo. It’s the definition of fun and frivolity.
Except when you have to do it every single day. That’s been my life since my car’s air-conditioning conked out in late July while driving home from Dr. Fiancée’s place.
Longtime readers will recall that I adopted my chunky dog, Murphy, through The Bull Terrier Rescue Mission, a group dedicated to finding home for members of this comical, stubborn, oft-misunderstood breed. They do really remarkable work through a system of volunteers, and really go to great lengths to get these dogs to their new homes.
On Thursday, 14 December 2023, I received a message from the executive director checking in on Murphy. I hear from him about once or twice a year, so didn’t think much of it. He then asked if I’d be able to help transport a dog to Eastover, North Carolina, on Saturday, 16 December 2023, as part of the pup’s journey north. After making sure my schedule was clear, I agreed to lend a hand.
The dog’s name was Mavis, and her ultimate destination was a family in the New Jersey/New York area. I was the second leg of her journey. A couple from around Savannah, Georgia, drove a considerable distance and handed her off to me at a Krispy Kreme in Florence, South Carolina (a decidedly sweet and delicious place to pick up a sweet puppy). My task was then to drive her to Fox’s Pizza Den (naturally, I loved this route) in Eastover, North Carolina, where a young man would continue Mavis along her freedom ride.
I’ve never done this kind of canine transport before, but I was thankful for the opportunity, and that God opened up the door for me to be part of Mavis’s journey home. Saturday, 16 December 2023 was literally my last free Saturday of the calendar year, so it worked out perfectly.
After MAGAWeek2023 and my extended time out of town, I’ve decided to take this week to rerun some classic hits from the extensive TPP back catalog. Most of the posts are those with very high view counts, though I am presenting them in no particular order. TBT will proceed as usual, and regular posts will resume Saturday, 15 July 2023.
With that, here is 7 September 2021’s “Driving the Georgia Backroads“:
A quick blurb before today’s post: I’ve released my second book, Arizonan Sojourn, South Carolinian Dreams: And Other Adventures. It’s a collection of travel essays I’ve accumulated over the last four years, and it’s available now on Amazon.
Here’s where you can pick it up:
Pick up a copy today! Even sharing the above links is a huge help.
Thank you for your support!
—TPP
***
With the release of my second book, Arizonan Sojourn, South Carolinian Dreams: And Other Adventures, it seemed like the ideal time to post the second half of the six essays that make up the first section of the book (apologies for that confusing sentence of numbers and ordinals). These three essays are Chapters 4-6 in the book, and were originally published on my SubscribeStar page, and cover my trip to Arizona with my older brother:
Happy Sunday!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
This morning I am hitting the road to visit a gigantic humanoid mouse and his other anthropomorphic pals. This’ll be my niece and nephews’ first trip to Disney World, and we’re all eager to get down there.
I’ll be posting as usual while I am down there, but posts may be a tad shorter than usual.
I’ll also resume my SubscribeStar Saturday series on my trip to Arizona as soon as possible.
Godspeed!
—TPP
As I noted in various updates about delayed posts, I was back in Athens, Georgia this weekend. On the way over Friday, my GPS routed me a different way than usual, apparently due to a massive wreck on I-20.
The rerouting took me off I-20 at Lexington, South Carolina, taking me through painfully slow traffic in the bustling county seat before spitting me out on US-378 West, which wended its way towards the Upstate.
I then hit US-178 West towards Greenwood and Abbeville, transferring to various State roads. I eventually ended up on SC-72, heading through Calhoun Falls at the South Carolina-Georgia border.
At that point, SC-72 became GA-72, which took me through Elberton and Comer, Georgia, before depositing me in Athens.
As many of my readers are not from South Carolina—or even from this country!—let me translate that for you: I went through a lot of small towns in very rural parts of South Carolina and Georgia.
Murphy and I spent this Labor Day Weekend visiting my girlfriend and her German Shepherd in Athens, Georgia, which is about three-and-a-half hours from Lamar. As such, I spent a solid seven or so hours on the road this weekend, not counting time we spent tooling around Athens.
For a three-day weekend, that’s not much driving, and I’ve driven longer distances. Way back in the mists of graduate school, circa 2006 or 2007, I drove from Knoxville, Tennessee to Rock Hill, South Carolina (not far), then from Rock Hill to Richmond, Virginia and back just to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra with a friend. She took the wheel only for the last hour of the drive back, and apparently as soon as I got into the passenger seat, I was out cold.
Granted, I was twenty-one or twenty-two at the time. In the intervening fifteen years, my zest for driving all night to hear live symphonic holiday power metal has waned considerably. Now I’m lucky if I can make it to 10:30 PM without falling asleep on the couch, my multiple after-school drives to Universal Studios notwithstanding.
But I digress. While I may lack the stamina of my reckless youth, I do alternatively loathe and appreciate a long drive.
I made it back from my latest trip to Universal Studios after a long, tedious drive that took up the better part of Sunday. I’d intended to hammer out a belated Lazy Sunday upon my return, but I was so wiped from the drive, I just watched television instead.
With all the driving on I-4, I-95, I-26, I-77, and I-20, I had ample time to think about the pros and cons of the Interstate Highway System. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with the Interstate. On the love side of the equation, I appreciate the convenience of being able to drive vast distances in reasonable times. The trip that took us around seven hours to complete yesterday (and that was with terrible traffic and inclement weather) would have taken, according to Google Maps, between nine and ten hours. In reality, that would have been closer to eleven or twelve hours with stops, traffic, etc.
As an engine for economic growth, the Interstate is probably the best investment the federal government ever made. It was pitched to Congress as a national security project—we needed broad, interstate boulevards for our tanks to deploy swiftly against a Soviet invasion—an approach that John C. Calhoun attempted as Secretary of War in 1817 (under the strict constructionist Democratic-Republican James Madison, Calhoun’s Bonus Bill faced a swift veto). But the real benefit of the Interstate Highway System is its ability to move people and goods swiftly, cutting down on shipping and transportation costs, and making longer commutes feasible.
Granted, there were downsides: the small towns and tourist traps alongside old federal highways and State roads. Just as the old railroad towns withered up when the trains stopped running—or repurposed into some other form—many small towns died out when the Interstate diverted traffic away from them. Of course, the converse is true: many towns boomed when the Interstate weaved their way.
So, one could surmise I appreciate the Interstate for its convenience and beneficial qualities. So, where is the hate?
One irony of The Age of The Virus is that while every event and institution found itself shuttered, I got out and did way more than I would have in The Before Times. The constant demands of The Before Times—the sheer tempo at which I forced myself to operate—also prevented me from getting out and doing the sorts of things that make life worth living.
Indeed, I was bitter about it for a time. I spent most of my twenties working and hustling, sacrificing many of the social opportunities of those salad days in order to store up my acorns for the future. Now in my mid-thirties, I’m beginning to enjoy some of the fruits of those sacrifices, though most of the acorns are locked up tightly in my HSA, 403(b) and IRAs.
That’s all to say that The Age of The Virus forced me to slow down a bit, and granted me the time to do some exploring. I will hasten to add that the misery and death of The Virus was not a cost worth paying just to grant me some more free time; rather, I’m acknowledging the silver lining, and stating the reality of the situation. It’s not an endorsement of The Virus to take advantage of some it’s few, more positive consequences.
All disclaimers aside, here are three posts for this Lazy Sunday, detailing some of my adventures over the past year:
The weather is getting warmer and the days are longer. It’s a great time to go out and enjoy some adventuring. Let me know about yours in the comments!
Happy Sunday!
—TPP
Other Lazy Sunday Installments:
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As I recently detailed in the post “Routine Maintenance,” I managed to get my old 2006 Dodge Caravan running again thanks to an $80 battery. I finally hooked up the battery maintainer, too, so hopefully the old girl won’t drain down due to neglect.
After installing that battery, it reminded me of how fun driving a busted up minivan can be. Readers might scoff at that notion, but that van and I share an intimate connection (well, at least I do with it—it can’t really think about who is driving it). After fifteen years, I’ve learned that machine inside and out. Sure, after driving my tiny Nissan it takes some adjustment (I still reach for the gear shifter in the wrong place occasionally, and briefly forget where the lights are), but it’s surprisingly nimble.
Aside from the maintainer, I’ve been taking the van for weekly drives to keep the battery up. My girlfriend and I took it to Lee State Park a few weekends ago, loading our small bit of supplies and her faithful German Shepherd into the cavernous interior. Since then, I’ve only done a few small jaunts with it, with the exception of last Thursday night.
The Portly Politico 