Meanwhile back at mamas . . .

This morning I awoke to brisk temperatures in the upper thirties with a sky that had high clouds that were going through the ever changing color palette seen most mornings if one chooses to awake to experience it.  The changes from darkness to light have always been a major part of my day as it sets the tone for what is to come.  The gradual tones from dark to gray looking through the trees or the faint glow of light on the seashore as first light takes hold of the night and forces it away can be both awe inspiring and mood setting if one chooses to participate in this daily ritual.  Even cloudy, rainy, or snowy mornings can have an impact to attitudes if one is in tune or conscious of this phenomenon.

The few high clouds changing from the gray to a soft pink then to a fiery red hue at the blueness of the morning sky took hold let me know it would be an interesting day for me and Placido Flamingo. 

Today we would be on the road traveling to see my mama who became ill last week.  I would make the trek from southern Appalachia in the foothills of the Georgia Mountains across the Piedmont of farm lands of eastern Georgia to the coast and out to the beaches in northern Florida.

I was traveling a path which parts I had not taken before while some that I had traveled in my youth have changed so much over the last forty years things were hardly recognizable to me.  The outlet malls as I crossed interstate 85 had grown into about a three square mile area of businesses catering to any wish and whim imaginable.  Gone were the mom and pop stores from so long ago replaced by the big name designers for clothing, gardening, camping, and assorted interests?

I continued my way along the four lane highway to Athens, home of the University of Georgia and the ever present Bulldawgs!  As I drove along it seemed that everything was Bulldawg.  There were several bars and restaurants that had “Bulldawg” as part of the name and the typical signs on the street next to businesses had something about the “Bulldawgs” on them.  Red and Black Liquor Store were all UGA themed businesses.  I forgot how crazy that area is about their football team since I had been gone.  I have gone from latitude 61° in the far north of Anchorage Alaska to the area where I was raised around latitude 33° and the major differences between the two.

Driving through the towns of Bishop and Nicholson there were many roadside stands selling fruits and vegetables that are common on country roads.  Odds and end stores or mini-flea markets dotted the roadside in this area.  Names like Dirt Dog manufacturing, Cabin Creek BBQ, J&J Flea market, the multiple Dollar General stores every few miles were the view on this back road today. One fruit stand had a big four foot by eight foot sign reading “PECHES” for sale.  You gotta love the south and are way with words.  Luckily peaches are out of season as I drove past or I would have been compelled to stop in to see them there peches. 

I passed a nice country home with big front yard that had a “rainbow nation” sign painted with the many colors so familiar to that lifestyle community.  It seemed out of place for a very small southern town.  A few miles down the road came across a small roadside market named Rainbow Store, I’m not sure if there was a connection between the two.  Several miles farther came across a landscape type business that had the yard statues and Gnomes all around with several bird feeders or fountains.  It also had several pink flamingos off to one corner by the fence.  Placido wanted to stop and visit but it was probably closed for the season.  Maybe a return trip is in order during the summer months.

With the coming of springtime and the drive farther south the landscape changed from brown grasses to lush green fields with the trees starting to sprout buds getting ready for summer.  I saw green, red and the pink blossoms from a Japanese cherry tree.  Traveling the back roads of Georgia kept me from the congestion of Atlanta, Macon and the medium cities along the interstate system.  Most of US441 was divided four lanes with grassy medium.  Only one stretch of about 25 miles was two-lane blacktop and it had one spot with road construction where there was one lane of travel with a pilot vehicle guiding the direction of flow.  I only had a five minute wait for the pilot vehicle but my music (Zac Brown) was going so it was not a distraction.

There was a lone fire observation tower in a field approximately a thousand feet off the road and I could see a lone person standing inside high above the surrounding trees looking for any sign of smoke or fire.  I could see in the distance probably forty miles away a mixture of white and darker gray plume of smoke from an active fire.  When I was a kid there was a tower across from my grandmother’s house in Moultrie where we would climb up and talk to the ranger stationed there.  It wore all of us kids to climb the stairs to the top of the tower but many fond memories of the view from that high above the surrounding trees and fields.  Such was life in a rural area; fire towers to climb, putting pennies on the railroad tracks so they would be flattened when the afternoon train rolled by as we waved to the engineer and conductor.

As I approached Lake Sinclair much had changed since my last visit with many new condos and buildings along the shoreline.  There were many boats on the water on this Tuesday morning making it seem like a weekend day.  I remembered water skiing on a several mile stretch from a cabin to this highway I was traveling today.  Probably boat is gone and the tiny cabin to make room for bigger and better houses than a simple old log cabin.  Progress?  I cannot say but this lake and others have made way from the small family cabins to the larger modern structures seen today.

I was headed to Dublin and Interstate 16 to go toward Savannah when I heard a horn honking and looking around me there were no other vehicles in sight.  I use a navigational aid while traveling called WAZE which gives me traffic information, directions and any police activity along the way.  There is also a “friend” section of people you may know who are also using the app.  I had forgotten about that and didn’t realize at first what the horn sound was.  I just knew I had not hit the horn on my vehicle.  My friend Mindy who lives in South Florida was driving and saw I was on so gave me a shout out and hit the honk horn button alerting me.  It took me several minutes to figure it out and I was pleasantly surprised and distracted trying to “honk” back to her.  It broke up the drive for a few minutes.

Just before arriving in Dublin on a lonely stretch of 441 thirty miles out of town there was a hitch hiker on the side of the road, thumb out with his backpack on and a small dog on a leash at his feet.  With long red hair shining in the late morning sun he was waiting for a kind soul to stop to pick both man and his dog for a ride to places I did not know.  My rig was not loaded to the max like most of my trips so I pulled over to the right side of the road, window down asking him where he was headed.  Turns out he was headed to Macon to meet up with his family who was sick and in the hospital so I told him I was going east on I-16 but would gladly take him to the westbound ramp to catch a ride from someone heading to Macon.  He was thankful, well-mannered and funny as we talked the twenty minutes to the freeway.

I stopped at Zaxby’s next to the freeway for a quick bite as I had not eaten breakfast and it was about one in the afternoon.  There was a touring man on a motorcycle parked next to me so I stopped and chatted with him for a few minutes since he seemed like my friend Mark who takes adventures on his motorcycle from time to time.  His name was Robert and he was on his way up to Asheville North Carolina to visit friends and stop by the Biltmore House Winery before returning to Savannah where he lived. 

Dublin was about half way on my trip for the day bringing me back to the interstate heading east toward Savannah and Interstate 95.  I had been listening to music and enjoying the ride when I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a small silver car about a half mile back weaving its way back and forth across the lanes passing everyone traveling between 95 and 100 miles an hour.  It closed the distance so quickly that he was past me before I could think; “where’s a trooper when you need one?”  In a flash he was gone continuing to weave lane to lane passing everyone going east.  I drove for at the most five minutes when I spotted then my Waze app notified me that there was police on my side of the highway a half mile away.  I continued to close on the location given when I saw the blue strobe lights flashing and then noticed the little silver car pulled off to the side of the road.  The Nissan was sitting there with the driver waiting for the officer to write the ticket as I drove by laughing and giving him a “thumbs up” middle finger salute, lol.

I continued the sixty or seventy miles toward I-95 and as I approached the area of Fort Stewart Army Base I remembered several weeks earlier when I saw my mama on the return to Atlanta there was a speed trap set up with a trooper on the bridge with his radar unit “tagging vehicles” on the eastbound lanes with five or six trooper cars stopping those speeding and he would run across the bridge to the westbound lanes and use his radar on those vehicles with another set of troopers writing tickets in that direction. It was not worth the trouble of speeding so my speed matched the posted speed limit signs along that part of the highway.

As I was on the lookout for the previous visit speed trap I noticed once again a small silver car passing everyone at a high rate of speed.  I looked and the same Nissan sports car zoomed past me shifting lanes to go around several vehicles ahead of me.  I thought “what a dumba**” as I continued toward the turn south.  It was not long before I was notified that there were police in the area.  Sure enough there was the silver car stopped on the side of the road this time with two trooper vehicles with light flashing that had pulled him over.  If the first encounter was expensive with a fine for 95 to 100 in a seventy mph zone this one probably was going to be through the roof expensive or this clown was going to spend the night in Jail.  I’m not sure which he was given but the sad look on his face told the story of his stupidity and carelessness. 

I shortly made the turn south on I-95 and mixed in with the solid but steady flow of traffic going towards Jacksonville and points south.  It was late afternoon when I approached the Florida state line and the marshes and bridges over the many small rivers and estuaries.  The sun reflected on the water and the slight breeze kept the smoothness of the water from occurring and the little ripples making orange diamond patterns on the water.  The drive up and over the Dames Point Bridge was where the traffic started to slow down.  There was a lady stopped with a tripod camera taking pictures of the setting sun and reflections on the water.  This bridge is a cable-stayed type over the St Johns River with the main span 1,300 feet at a height of 175 feet above the water allowing cruise ships and large sea vessels to pass underneath on their way out to sea.

With traffic I slowly made my way out to Jacksonville Beach and my destination.  “Meanwhile back at Mama's the porch lights on, come on in if you wanna” . . . mama was glad to see me and ready for a visit and her rehabilitation.

Ice