The Panhandle, Acoma Sky City and land of the Navajo

Day 5

I got up early and headed down for breakfast, there was an enormous trucker and and a drug addict helping themselves to the buffet, I smelt weed in the air; which was fitting considering where I was staying. It was probably the worst hotel I have ever been to in my life, and this was a Super 8. I wrote a bad report and turned it in then poured some cereal and cheap coffee, gagged on the hard bagel then the extra strong cheap coffee. I was literally filtering the grounds though my teeth. I paid for my night, was asked how I slept and how everything was, I replied horrible as I walked out the door. I did a quick scan of my surroundings. The wind was blowing fiercely, kickin up loads of dust, the surrounding desert area was populated with the occasional outcroppings of  Denny's, Chevron and Golden Arch sign. I was literally in a populated dustbowl. I felt no need to check out anymore sights. This was Texas at its finest, and that was enough. I threw in my luggage and was off on the highway rollin away the miles. More Texas wasteland welcomed me. The area was called the panhandle. The terrain was flat as a pancake, with no intriguing points of interest besides that of the occasional tumble weed blowing across the road. Demitri Martin's joke came to mind about the more square a state is the worse it is to live there, "if your in a regular polygon get the hell outta there and move to a squiggly area. The culture is in the squiggles".  It was obscure but ironically true. I thought Texas isn't square enough to fit that mold, but it should be an exception.

             I finally crossed over the New Mexico border and stopped at the visitor center. and found way more intrinsic destinations throughout New Mexico than I thought was here. I'd always pictured it as a hot n' dry Navajo wasteland. But there was lava beds, national forests and volcanic lakes.; as intriguing as these natural prospects were I unfortunately faced a dilemma. It was saturday and I needed to get to Arizona and my mom's family for the Super Bowl. I grabbed a map and observed all the national forrests and sights to my north and wrote them down. I decided I was gonna come back through Colorado and Utah another time to see it all, but that would be another trip, it was the dead of winter and the further elevation I climbed the worse the weather would be.  I met these intriguing old people at a Starbucks in Albaquuque who had a knack for the area's history and were tellling me all aobu the culture and places to visit, which added to the feeling I was missing out. I explained my need for haste and they brushed it off as juvenile naivety when I brought up the super bowl. But I had the tour guide and I fully planned on coming back.

              I stop at this place called Acoma Sky City, which was an indian village ona cliff. It was nestled in between steep outcroppings on a lone plateau.It was only 11 miles off the freeway, and I wanted to feel like I saw a New Mexico attraction. However, I thought violent thoughts on leaving visitor center. I wanted to maul the squaw and brave in there. It closed at 5, and I get in there at 4:30, open the door and he stares me down; I stop and say  "I'm here to check out the sights" He just said were all closed here, I said "whatta mean? the sign says 5 pm?" He just said your our last visitor and were closing early, I said "now wait a minute, there's a good half hr, isn't there a video i can watch somewhere? or like some gallery explaining your native history?" He said, sorry were closing. I cant say at the time I blamed the westward expansion for forcing these Indians out of their native habitats. Armed with a plethora of knowledge form the useful Indian I headed out to find the sky city myself. I had to discover it, if I had taken the red skinned pony-tailed man's advice I'd been down the road and on the freeway missing the entire city. The roads were muddy and I felt like I was scaling a 45 degree incline on my way  up the mountainous dirt road. It was a winding route with no guard rail, which was mind blowing to me they'd risk cars careening off. But it was an indian road so that explained it pretty well. Once I breached the summit, I saw some cool sights up on top. the buildings were made from clay and grass molded and sun-baked to reconstruct the material the ancient city was once comprised of. It was getting dark and the sun was dropping low on the horizons and did'nt have much time, so I ran around and through the city snapping photos the whole time. The edge of the city opened up to  idyllic scenery below, with red mountainous plateaus outcropping a flat plain with snow-capped mountains of Northern New Mexico behind it.  I was glad I stopped, but I was not impressed with the Navajo; contrary to anyone's belief that Indians are nature lovers, from my experience, none are.  The western pioneers were fortunate to see that, and relocate them to trash the un-intriguing peices of land, they needed to be eliminated. My line of thought was along those lines as I sped away from the Acoma sky city and back on the freeway.

            I wanted to check out some points of interest I noticed once I got to Gallop New Mexico, but it was already dark. I thought about staying the night and checking those sights out in the morning, but of course that would have been the wise and safe move, so that wasn't decided on. In hindsight I definitely should have stayed in Gallop, because I ended up sleeping in a rest stop 17 miles west of the Arizona border. I considered back-tracking since my GPS couldnt find any motels til Holbrook, AZ 90 miles SW. There was the Cheiftan Inn, but I didnt like the name. If I thought it was cold the nights sleeping in the car before it was nothing compared to this, I meanin AZ? I expected warmer weather at night than this, I kept waking up and turning on the heat and getting a good circuit of warm air pumping through the car. Then decided to keep slippin on layers,  I had 2 layers of pants, sweatshirt, fur coat, and then I was warm enough to doze.

My passage through the Midwest Blizzard

Day 4  

 I woke up to the shrill high pitched sound of the wind blowing fiercely against my hotel room window. It took me a second to gather where I was, as reality settled in separating dream from existence; this wasnt the Caribbean, I was not soakin in rays, I was in the middle of Arkanas, and--- from all outside appearances, as I rifled open the blinds; in the middle of a storm as well. Due to a night of plush elegance my hygiene was vastly improved, the beard gone I no longer worried about scaring anyone in public. I   caught myself hurrying to pack out of my room before before realizing hurrying wasn't helping, I wasn't beating anything, the storm was here. Still I did'nt care there was always need for speed even if I wasn't entirely sure why. I shoved several egg and sausage waffle burrito's down  and made my way outside, I immediately slid across the icy surface, luggage in tote, with a quck windmill-like flourish of my off hand, I thought dang, this is gonna be great. I saw the weather channel man in the lobby mentioning inclement weather with snowy conditons throughout the midwest. This was rather alarming and I didnt delay.

         I got it on the freeway and was immediately aware of the extent of the wintry conditions. The passing lane was covered in snow isolating that option. I was behind  a car plowing through the thin sheet of snow and hoping he wouldn't exit so I wouldn't be the pilot car leading the barrage of cars behind me. As soon as it merged onto an exit my shield left me. Right then a semi-truck merged on, blowing snow into my windshield, I followed behind  with limited visibility.  The semi came to an abrupt stop and instead of breaking I shifted way down to avoid becoming a toboggan. I found myself sliding anyway like a sled and decided I didn't like it. I was sideways in the road the front end planted firmly in a snow drift, I hit reverse and gunned it out. I glanced in my rear view mirror to find a car in a ditch sideways a few yards back. I pulled off the next exit, popped the trunk and reached for the chains. I had a helluva time putting them on, the directions said to drape them over the wheel but I forwent that procedure and drove over them. I had no gloves, which is never ideal for Arctic conditions. I was prostrate in front of the car reaching around bear-hugging the tire, too snug, my hands kept losing feeling. I kept running back in, heating my hands on the vents then running back and sliding down again, a few times of this and I was starting to get pissed, I kept looking for a good Samaritan to drop by, but I was in Oklahoma and Okies don't even know how to drive in the snow, regardless put chains on. Heck, Americas Tires didn't even sell chains in this state! A few stopped as they drove by and I said I was figuring out the chain situation. I didnt ask for help but I wasn't gonna turn it down either. They just said alright best of luck, yeah thanks, I hope you skid out on the road, I mean thanks, same to you.  I went to the back trunk again, foraged around for wool socks to put on my hands so I could have this handy thing called sensation when I was tightening the chains. The mittens didnt help the grip but I soon got one tire all hooked up. I hoped it wasn't installed bass ackwards as I went for the other. I kept stopping and runnin back inside, reading the directions and warmin the hands. A few times repeating this procedure and I got them both on and was back cruisin the highway at a whoppin 30 mph. All I could hear was the cluck-a-lank of the cahins and the dull roar of the packed hunks of snow I was rollin over as I sped on toward  Oke city.

         I stopped for gas twice, one station was out, on both stops I tightened the chains. At the fist stop I heard from some mammoth of a man with an intense beard that the reason for this weather was the frequency of FM stations were being taken by more cable stations now which puts turbalence into the air causing more snow, I  just smiled and said yeah-yeah sounds crazy. Never heard of that. Inside I was thinking he may have had a loose connection with the brain, a few neurotransmitters damaged or never made it across the synapse, that, or too much Bill Nye. I had alot to think about on this trip as I was alone so obscure thoughts like these were common. About an hour outside Oklahoma City it cleared up and I was still proceeding at a snails pace, creeping and chugga-linkin along.  Now the roads were better, my chains were beginning to sound obnoxious and people were passing. At the nearest rest stop I unwittingly parked in front of 2 semis, I was trying to un-chain my car when an angry semi driver who was stuck and wanted space walked around,  a vicious ass-chewing ensued, I was on the receiving end and allowed to say little. I was busy, but I yelled parking is dead ahead, right here, more cuss words ensued the snow was piled up and I had lil choice, apparently his truck was still stuck  because I was blocking him. He went on a profanity laced tirade, I was impressed, I asked him if he would like to help remove my chains so you can leave faster, apparently that touched the wrong button because he was not gonna help. It took me a bit longer than I thought, I wrapped a wire around a wheel axle and was soon aggressively ripping at it all while the angry semi driver looked on, I figure he was becoming more and more impressed with every hearty heave. I finally got it off, and said hey sir "you have a better day, stay warm, its cold out here". He yelled something else back about a candy ass as we walked toward me. I didn't bother with the rest. threw in the chains and hit the accelerator like a bat outta hell.

Outside Oke city was clear sailing, Once in town I located a Starbucks there and I remember telling someone I was gonna make it to Amarillo, but that was 4 hours away. I said thanks and I gotta roll, as long as my destination wasn't the side of the freeway  tonight, I'd be good. I had plans of stopping for the night at elk, Oklahoma, but instead breezed on by. I was feeling good, the music was blaring. I was gonna make up for time lost in the blizzard. About an hour outside Amarillo, I was starting to shut down. I realized 2 things, 1. I was tired 2. I hated Texas and every arrogant Texan redneck who tries to brag about how  big and grand it is down here. Its a big, boring wasteland. Whats the point of braggin about having more of a s**** area. These thoughts pre-occupied me as I toar through hell, the upbeat music blaring. I stopped to get gas at a shell, the wind was howling and the dessert uninviting, I realized I needed to put more Texas behind me. A semi outside of Amarillo almost bit it before he woke up and placed her back on the road. I couldn't help laughing. I stopped at a Super 8 for 40 bucks a night, upon entering I picked up an un-healthy odor, the  hallways reeked of smoke and the door in my non-smoking room couldn't even block it all out. I was too tired to re-locate though and just payed the fee and crashed for the night.

Day 3: When I was Walking in The Land of the Delta Blues

I awoke feeling uncomfortable due to the weather around 6 am and realized the only possibility of getting warm and staying so lay in driving. So I leaned across the seat groping for my keys to get some heat blowing while stuffing the luggage in the trunk. I crawled into the drivers seat and reached for Wilson and plugged in "nearest coffee". I hit up Starbucks then headed west toward Memphis. While on the highway I took in as much of the Tennessee countryside as I could, it was fairly un-intriguing with little or no noticeable points of interest on the way. I may have been in the wrong part of Tennessee but I came away nonplussed, it was like eastern Washington only with a more prominent scattering of trees, mixed with some random "Palouse" like hills. I rolled into the land of the blues around noon. I had no desire to see Memphis and even less interest in blues music history and was intent on breezing on past and get over the Mississippi River and into Arkansas. But something caught my eye in the way of a huge Billboard sign "Blues national music festival" I was probably never going to be here again so at the last moment I swerved onto the exit and hit the on ramp into City Center. I figured if I didn't like it I could leave early. "Wilson" was telling me to turn left onto historic Beal Street which was blocked off due to the music festival.I found an alternate route heading toward the Fed Ex center where the Memphis Grizzlies played.  

      At this point I was taking turns faster than I knew what was happening, one way streets were common and the stoplights were conveniently located on side street poles, so you had to keep glancing from side to side to not accelerate into oncoming  traffic. My stress anxiety at a high I navigated around  road blocks with people honking. People on the east coast are way too happy on the horn.  It was all the restraint I could muster not to slow to a crawl then a stop, get out and walk over to the car and yell "hey Flintstone, lay off the horn or ill park the d**n thing right here, and you can walk to wherever your going". I saw the FedEx Dome and a red light shoot by me on one intersection. I eventually found a parking garage and headed out toward Beal Street. I found a Starbucks sign and was peeved to discover no wi-fi but I did meet this Guy from Australia, who was a writer, he told me I should start an online blog if I enjoyed writing, and jot down anything that comes to mind. He inspired me to do so, I I got his name on a peice of paper to look up his blog but I misplaced it, it prob. ended up in a lint wad, he also told me this was actually a world-wide event and blues artists from all over the world came here. I was unaware of the proceedings and flirted with the idea of staying around for the night but instead decided to hit up a few of the bars and hang around town for a bit. I cared so little about blues music that the significance of such an event was not still not worth the ticket money or fighting  hordes of people. In one bar there was a band playing from Ireland, the lead singer had a packer hat on and the guy in back looked like a gentleman from the late civil war era, the last member was a large man piping on this massive sousaphone. the pipe wrapped around his entire body, and he was sweatin' it pretty hard, it looked like from the amount of effort he was exerting he should be a lil thinner. There were signs flashing band names and blues artists who I had never heard of and music playing from open doors and windows as I traversed the historic street. Many artists, I learned came here with nothing but a trumpet and saxophone and bag for personal belongings; attempting to make a living and reach fame by honing their trade, with names  like Elvis Presley and Willie Nelson. In a way I felt similar yet had no desire to be toting around such cumbersome belongings or desire to play them. Yet I related to the wandering yeoman theme of those adventuring blues artists. As I was leaving the Memphis "Hard Rock Cafe" Marc Cohn's song "When I was walking in Memphis" all of a sudden hit me, running through my mind: " I boarded the plane. Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues. In the middle of the pouring rain. Yeah I got a first class ticket. But I'm as blue as a boy can be. Then I'm walking in Memphis, walking with my feet ten feet off of Beale. Walking in Memphis, but do I really feel the way I feel" I was walking in Beale too at that time. I walked up to the statue of Elvis and a seemingly unusually generous homeless man took my pic, only to want money for it, I pitched him a dollar, it was all the cash I had in my wallet, he wasn't happy, but I didnt care. I then went back to my car and headed west on I-40 toward Little Rock.

       I felt the approaching storm beat against my lil car as I made my way trough Arkansas. I stopped at the first town and got some cocoa and coffee, while at a subway I glanced in the mirror and noticed how bedraggled I was getting and how far along my beard was getting. I thought: this can't continue, and looked for a cheap motel. When I arrived at the Super 8 I walked out into a fierce gale, there was already ice coating the parking lot. I felt like a creature of the night seeking refuge and shelter before the storm. I turned on the news in my motel room and heard weatherman say an epic storm was about to torrent throughout the midwest. The area he circled on the map was west of my location. He advised to stay indoors and avoiding driving if possible. I arrived safe and  I knew approaching adventures in the icy cold lay ahead.

Into the Smokey Mountains and Beyond

Day 2
        I awoke from  hibernation to a Tow Truck lights glaring at me from my side view window, I suddenly felt vulnerable, with the possibility of a Morning Tow looming, I sprung into action, moving quickly, I unzipped the luggage on the front seat and rummaged around for clothes, my thoughts muddled with the only clear goal to get the car moving before the Driver came to say what's up. I climbed into the drivers seat and accelerated rapidly out of the lot. Glancing back the Tow truck was still stationary. I found the highway and headed west toward Asheville. I arrived in Asheville, a scenic town surrounded by snowcapped mountains sited in the foothills of the blue mountains and located a 2 story giant Barnes and Nobles, I exited the car, all strung out from the road and walked in, my immediate sense of purpose was not to read, or wi-fi or maps but coffee. I  ordered a rich double shot straight black coffee and slugged it down with satisfaction. I sat down and uploaded my location, 2 ladies walked by and asked if I knew where some store was, I stared back blankly for a sec. and said mam, I very little idea where I even am right now, I awoke to a tow truck in an abandoned parking lot. Apparently they were from Tennessee I said "I believe that's where I'm headin", due to high energy and a southern drawl they were gifted with the ability of rapid incoherrant speach, I gathered that Gatlinburg was a must see and a great tourist town. They thought it was amazing I was trekking through like this and that they wish they would've done this and I inspired them. I was a bit abashed and at the same time glad I saw people to talk to.

            I headed out on highway 441 which was a winding route through the blue mountains, I was exposed to an great amount of breathtaking scenery. I traveled up to a scenic lookout where you could see how the smoky mountains received its name, due to  the smoky haze that shrouded them, the misty smog made the entire range look surreal and picturesque. I gathered in as much of the scenery as I could an headed back out toward Gatlinburg. The buildings in Gatlinburg were constructed with elaborate rock and brick work giving them an appealing antiquated edge. There were town square areas with granite work laid out. Due to the surrounding terrain it felt like you were in Holland or some small European village near the Swiss alps. In  a gift shop I saw a hanging board with the inscriptions "Once again, I'm up a creek without a paddle" etched in, I felt a sense of familiarity and strong desire to buy this, but ended up spending it on a deluxe value meal at a nearby Wendy's. the sky lift above town granted a birds eye view of the scenic village as well as the surrounding Mountain range which made for illustrious scenery, 5 bucks well spent. After a few more hours strolling the town , snapping pics and absorbing the countryside, I was ready to "park it", at this point my feet were causing me considerable pain, (one of the reasons I was out of shape).

        I hit the highway, again heading west, I was not prepared for the bombardment of entertainment exhibits that ensued, It was like 16 county fairs strung together on both sides of the road, with massive colorful lit up billboards advertising anything from carousals to roller coasters to pet farms. As I was driving these attractions kept growing in number and I thought where am I? should I park the car and get out and hit some of these fun rides up, is this a place to waste all the money I have? Unfortunately I spent too much time on the crowded streets of Gatlinburg and the Asheville Barnes and Noble because dusk had already arrived and Nasheville was  still a good 3 hours away so instead of stopping I headed out to a Starbucks and re-routed my location, while at the coffee shop I scanned the room for any attractive girls that could tell me why there was so much entertainment and if this was a city or funland, after a glance around the room, I settled for somebody working at Starbucks instead, and I learned I was in pigeon ford. I got back on the highway and after a good half hour of driving I reached for my camera, seeing the empty battery slot, i was hit with a nauseating recollection, I was fuming, my mood irate, I re-traced my route back and retrieved my camera battery charger from the wall outlet, and headed back out again. By now it was dark.  The next 3 hours were long ad tedious, it seemed to me, night driving always drug on the longest, I think this was due to the fact that you cant see your surroundings to pass the time. Your eyes are glued to the semi lights ahead of you, staring into that translucent red was like a long trance. Finally. I arrived and thought about a motel, but decided against it electing the target parking lot again, something about a target lot, was more comfortable to me than any other, maybe it was the upscale buildings surrounding it that lessened the possibility of me being drug out and violated. I am not entirely sure. but I repeated the procedure of yanking my cargo from the trunk, followed by an extensive amount of effort pushing it all into passenger seat. The day was long and due to being exhausted I seemed to be  impervious to the cold that night. I was dozing in minutes.

Day 1 of my Adventure

Day 1

          Upon leaving the touristy village of intercourse PA, loaded up with all the neccessitities of survival, GPS, Blankets, box of peanut granola bars, CD's, Snow chains, I headed out into the arctic gale that was sweeping across the nation. It was with a feeling of exhileration and anticipation for the unknown i set out feeling like Roand Amundson the polar explorer. I quickly located the vast array of CD's I spent all yesterday burning and slid Dire Straits into the CD slot. The beats were on and I was rollin through snow covered amish land. I cut south through Maryland on Interstate 83. Once I crossed over the Maryland border and all hints of Amish buggies encumbering the roadway were gone. I felt like I could relate to what was happening around me in a more understanding light. I personally find Amish people arrogant and critical and although hard working and tough,  their life-style is pointless; failure to adapt to society and hold onto the plain life of grain grinding, hand miliking, plowing and sowing is nonsensical when the rest of society has advanced for a reason. That aside I rolled into the capitol building around 9 am and the true enormity of the adventure I had just undertaken was beginning to hit home. I was a man without a plan. Tom Pety's hit song came to mind and I felt a connection with it's lrics I was indeed "lost in the great wide open, a rebel without a clue". I was like a wild buffalo roaming outside the herd; I also enjoyed that feeling, like the world was yours to conquer, I had saved up all summer and it felt similar to that of a 19th century fur trapper before setting off into the western frontier.

          I had been glancing at the GPS plastered to my windshield for the duration of my southward trek and been noticing my lil' arrow making headway and cutting away the miles, once the GPS let out the shrill sound "you have reached your destination", panic instead of releif set in. I was still on the outskirts of a spiderweb-like maze of confusing roads  and didnt know where anything was, and my directionally challenged mind was spinning. I figured WTH, i'll wing it. It was at this point after playing around with some features I noticed tourist attractions and I  plugged in the capitol building into my GPS. I plugged in parking in and my eyes widened "nearest parking" 2 miles. I'd have to hoof it. I found myself parking way over by the waterfront and was 1.1 miles away from the historical sites according to "Wilson" my GPS, aptly names because I knew it would be a great companion just like the volleyball Wilson was for Tom Hanks. I opened the door ajar and was immediately greeted with a piercing blast of cold air, I thought dang, I'm not ready for this yet, shut the door, reached back into my box of peanut granola bars and mowed down, thinking, "so this is why ppl vacation in the summer, makes things like getting out and walking enjoyable. I said well, here goes the beginning of something great, I re-opened the door and stumbled out. I had a significant distance on foot and felt it in my legs after the first big hill, my breathing had just become labored, i knew I was out of shape but how bad was becoming more clear. I bought some hot cocoa from a large black woman in a stand who told me to stay warm and called me hun, which did nothing to my ego, deflating me to that of a child, I re-call being put off. I wandered the steps of the Jefferson building cocoa in hand, tyring to quickly down it due to the impending sign that said "no food or drink after steps, the first healthy swig was completely witless and the scalding hot substance burned my esophagus. Though my ego was soon restored after shooting my empty cup at the garbage bin from the second step and scoring on the first shot, I  told the security guard "im a baller". I got a courtesy laugh. I pocketed my muffin and moved on. From the top of the monument I could see the Lincoln memorial and Washington monument. The Inside of the Jefferson memorial was coated in marble and some famous lines  etched into the surrounding walls. The panels showed Jeffersons quotes about self evident truths and the inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I then walked around the man made inlet of water and found signs leading to the holocaust memorial. Upon entrance I found a grotesque and alarming reminder of how evil and inhumane the situation regarding the extermination of european Jews was. Men, Woman and children were just thrown in chambers and gassed, takin out stripped and shot, all these accompanied with Jews gripping accounts of those that managed to survive extermination camps; stories that landscaped the hallways into open areas of historical holocaust objects. One exhibit had thousands of shoes of the victims, another  a railroad car which shipped the Jews out, I pictured being inside it with a mass of humanity knowing you were going to be slaughtered like livestock, the mental image was revolting. I walked out with a new appreciation for being a 21 year old in America instead of a Polish Jew in 1942.

          I then proceeded to the Washington Monument, as I was waiting in line I heard the security guard say "hey anyone have any knives or anything?" I suppressed a laugh, maybe it was the careless whimsical way he said it,as if expecting  someone concealing a knife to say yeah I have 3 or 4 my wife has 2. Halfway up the elevator I saw stones  of past presidents embedded into he stone surfaced, the tour guide explained these were gifts sent over after the war from other countries. Once up the statue I had a birds eye view of the fog obscured city. Following  the descent from the monument, I trudged on toward the toward the Lincoln Memorial, who I personally  think was a vastly more important figure than Thomas Jefferson, why he got his own memorial instead of a shrine? I am not entirely sure, although his intelligence was remarkable, and his library the largest compilation of books any American had or ever will accumulate in a lifetime. I witnessed part of this collection at the Library Of Congress. As far as aesthetic appeal the library of Congress was the most visually alluring structure in DC. The ornate architecture combined  with embedded paintings was what I found to be to a  tribute to the engineering prowess of manmade establishments. By Far my favorite DC building. After frequenting the Library of congress everything else seemed dim and modest. I did not have time to go through the smithsonian and missed out on a variety of other historic landmarks and features, however I had been there before 7 years prior with the family when I was small geek middle school kid and our science team competed at nationals at a location nearby, during that trip we toured most of the city and smithsonian.

           I left historic DC and headed back to my car. Feeling tired and cold, I folded back into the car and headed out my destination lying somewhere south, where exactly? I couldn't be sure, this was cold here, and the further south the less violent the approaching storm would be. I hit Interstate 95 south to Richmond. Upon arrival I located a Starbucks with my GPS. The Starbucks to me throughout this trip were like oasis's in a dessert. There was wi-fi to connect to, Coffee to drink and my location to upload on facebook to anyone who cared. Coffee was a big added perk might I add. I also enjoyed getting a pulse of the culture around you, seeing the people. that walked in and listening in on some stories. I heard the distinct southern drawl throughout the coffee shops and eateries of the south. Seeing the Cracker Barrel's again was like a blast from the past, from 8 years back when I last trekked through here after a national sciece tournament with my friend Colton and fam. Memories hit me again: Chess in the car, license plate wars, a running tally of who could get the most states, when semi's drove by, fights ensued; we named the shakers who liked "move" alot and be crazy, the shaker' down and boogy village, we thought that was the funniest thing since sliced bread. I distinctly recall hitting every Abraham Lincoln site on that trek and it became a running joke that we despised him. Good times. The rolling green hills of virginia were scenic and I wished I was driving through them in the fall when all the leaves were auburn instead of gone. When I arrived in Richmond; the town seemed reticent and uneventful with a large core of industry within the city. The housing and brick buildings were interesting to me due to living in the Pacific NW where the oldest piece of history  is an Indian artifact. history there has just been around, 300 year old buildings were still standing. I then headed south to Durham and Greensborough, travelin a few hours at night to get to Greensborough. I realized again  finding plush and adequate sleeping was no longer a certainty as  hotel cuisine was not always a cost effective option. I looked up a Sportsman's warehouse and bought a sleeping bag. I slept in a Target parking lot.. The sleeping arrangement was always a struggle, I folded down the seat and manhandled the 60-70 lb suitcase to the passenger seat as well as my other luggage and slept diagonally my legs and sleeping bag protruding into the trunk. And it was cold