Post Keys: the drive home

Way back in June 2006, when I had fewer than 1000 miles under my wheels and I met Alan for the first time, I remember that he put an endcap on my handlebars "so that I wouldn't take a core sample of myself." I would never have dreamed I'd be a passenger in my own car with him at the helm. Truth is stranger than fiction....

We decided to head out of Daytona, without staying an extra night. My work schedule dictated that I needed to be back for Friday, but because we were all mixed up about which day it was (Tuesday), we thought that we only had 1 1/2 days to drive instead of 2 1/2.

Our first stop was South Carolina. We actually stayed at a hotel for the night! After the hellish drive to Florida, we agreed that a complete break from driving would be permissible. In the morning, we continued to Richmond, although we did not take the highway the whole time. Alan likes junk shops, so my job was to look for possible stops. At one place, the owners were in the yard, raking dead leaves and grass into a burn pile. The tines combed throught the fine dirt, leaving behind perfectly spaced tracks and small plumes of dust. Both proprietors had cigarettes dangling out of the corners of their mouths. We greeted them - rather, Alan amicably said, "Hello," while I followed, mute. The woman waddled in behind us. When she spoke, I had difficulty understanding her, the Southern drawl thickened by decades of heavy tobacco use. The stale smell of old cigarette smoke permeated the entire retail area - there was nothing of interest to Alan, so we left.

The other shop that I saw was set back from the road, P-A-W-N written in large letters across the building. It contained a few pieces of Nascar memorobilia...possibly, said Alan, the worst pawn shop he'd ever been in. Leave it to me to find the one!

All of the routes the GPS came up with involved driving through DC...which seemed a ridiculous idea...on the day before Thanksgiving. This meant that our next stop was Richmond. Alan had told me about his friend Marjolein, a Dutch doctor who had ridden the Big Ride in 2000. She goes to furniture making class in New Hampshire, and stops by his place on her way up north. She's made much of the furniture in her house, all by hand, with no nails or screws...her furniture is more like artwork (with function, of course!). She has a dog named Ben, a bit smaller than Madison and more wiry, but very sweet.

Thanksgiving: we decide to head over to Alan's brother's house. Ken is a born again Christian. Good times. He only asks me once if he can talk to me about Jesus. I decline. Dinner has already been finished by everyone else in the house, but Jean has left everything out for us, holding dessert until we are finished. There is a houseful: Jean & Ken, their two boys...Alan's sister & family, Jean's sister. It is a great time, and I think about how this is different from the Thanksgivings I stopped attending in college. Voices are raised, but only because there are so many people talking at once - things never get out of hand.

We head back to PA, to Dunmore. I have to wake up at 4 to get back to Barre for work, and I don't get to sleep until 1 or so, after we unload the car and get a fire going in the stove. It is strikingly cold after the warmth of the Keys. I understand now why people go south to escape winter's chill.