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In which I continue to push my luck…
The older I get, the more I want to travel, and the more I travel, the more I want to undertake
This journey from
For me, a great road trip should involve lots of stops and diversions. It should allow time to follow interesting back roads, and minor highways. It should get me off the beaten track, exploring quiet corners and grand vistas. It should be challenging and relaxing by turn. It should give me the opportunity to stay in cheap hotels, eat large, greasy hamburgers – and yes, I do want fries with that – and give me a reason to get up in the morning complaining about the lumpy bed and roach infested bathroom.
Damn it – I’m getting old and soft, and I don’t like it! I need to push myself more, and test myself more, and I need to do it now, not in ten years or even five. The road may go forever, but I won’t. The clock is ticking, and time is not on my side.
But I digress. Where was I?
Ah, yes, I was travelling down the I-85 towards the state line that marks the boundary between
Now read on…
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Image: A page from my pocket notebook which records the following…
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FINALLY GETTING TO SEE
At last. This is it! This is what I have come to see. For hundreds of miles we’ve been speeding along multi-laned Freeways, down Thruways, over Turnpikes, traversing Parkways and I don’t know what else, but now – for a brief moment in time – we are finally off the fast lanes heading towards
…Pleasant
...
Every few hundreds yards or so there seems to be an old one-roomed weatherboard church. Some appear to be still in use, others are well passed their use-by date. Some properties remind me of old cotton plantations, and for all I know they are old cotton plantations. Trailer homes can be seen nestled under trees, and the usual collection of farm yard debris seen on farms all over the world (old cars, rusting farm machinery, wood piles, oil drums, worn tyres, broken play equipment, etc), is scattered about in back lots or no longer used parts of the property.
Small roadside stores appear and disappear quickly as we speed towards our next stop. Ancient clapboard shacks, paint peeling, walls askew, windows broken and doors ajar, are dotted across the landscape. The only thing missing is the aged black bluesman sitting on the porch singing Cross Road Blues. We pass small farm machinery franchises selling John Deere tractors, little used car yards filled with cheap battered trucks and SUVs, and always, always, the ever-present tiny, local Southern Baptist Churches. A phrase keeps popping into my head: weatherboard and shingle, weatherboard and shingle, and I write:
Weatherboard and shingle,
Fibro and cement.
A thousand tiny churches,
© 2010. Jim Lesses. All Rights Reserved.
At
A sign nearby points to
Another famous resident, Lionel Richie, was also born and raised in
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This small, rural Alabaman town was also the training ground for the famed Tuskegee Airmen, a popular name bestowed on a group of African-American pilots who fought in World War II. Formally, they were the 332nd Fighter Group and the 477th Bombardment Group of the U.S. Army Air Corps, and its members were the first African-American military aviators in the
So much history – so little time. And I would dearly love to have time to visit every place of interest I have passed over the last eight hundred miles. But it is not to be.
If this entry is in danger of turning into a black American history lesson, I apologise… Actually, no I don’t. I’m on a Greyhound Bus travelling through the heart of the American south, for goodness’ sake, and this part of the country is steeped in the history of black American relationships with all the baggage that entails. After all, the fledgling American nation went to war with itself over the way blacks were being treated in the south (and in the north). And some would say that ‘war’ has been going on ever since.
I could of course, have chosen to spend a week at the Renaissance Ross Bridge Golf Resort and Spa, located in Hoover, Alabama, where "The natural beauty of a Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail championship golf course surrounds this renaissance-style luxury hotel." Then I could have regaled you with descriptions of the resorts "refined comfort and sophistication," and described how I spent each morning play a round or two of golf, before resting by the pool in the afternoon sipping martini's while a resort beautician trimmed my ingrown toe nails! Somehow, I don’t think so. As I am sure you have worked out by now, that is not the type of experiential travelogue you are going to get from me.
But I digress again.
Back on the I-85 we speed our way towards
Lot’s of interesting names flash by along either side of the highway: Waffle House; Piggly Wiggly; Grease Monkey, an auto mechanic where Our certified crew is here to help you; Hide Away Bar & Grill, I wonder if people have trouble finding it!; Chick Filla with its breakfast, playground and diner; Arby’s, where bus drivers eat free, but presumably only if they bring a bus load of passengers in with them; Whataburger; Shoney’s; Colonel Dixie and their World Famous Dixie Dog (‘World Famous’? Really? We seem to have missed that news in Australia.); and on and on. Damn – all these burger joints and roadside cafés are making me hungry!
A roadside billboard proclaims: “
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Image: Participants, some carrying American flags, marching in the civil rights march from
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During the Civil Rights Movement in the early and mid-1960s,
On
Following that attack, Martin Luther King, Jr. and other civil rights leaders went to court to argue for the right to march from
More billboards advertising hotel and motels; fast food outlets and real estate offices; and state attractions. They dominate open country, spoiling views and quite frankly are a blight on the landscape. They are urging, insisting, nagging at you always to stop and spend and eat. Which reminds me – again – that’s it’s time for some nourishment.
At
Our stop in
A highway exit sign (Exit 114, or thereabouts) directs travellers to the Hank Williams Boyhood Home and Museum in
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Image courtesy of Kayaking The
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Seemingly, out of the blue we are travelling over water. Signage indicates that we have reached the Mobile-Tensaw Delta. Not to be confused with its giant neighbour, the Mississippi Delta, the Mobile-Tensaw Delta is a vast region of wetlands known by various names, including the
The I-65 rises and falls over wide swathes of water, allowing boats and other marine craft to pass under the highway. The bridge over the
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Mobile-Tensaw Delta image courtesy of Forever Wild...
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Green. Green. Everything is green. Scattered cumulus clouds, heavy with moisture pass high overhead. If they get together I expect they could unleash a pretty impressive downpour, but for now they seem to be content to float by reserving their contents for other parts of the country.
To be continued…
Read The Full Greyhound Bussing America Trip Report:
[Part 1] New York City to Philadelphia, PA…
[Part 2] Philadelphia, PA to Raleigh, NC…
[Part 3] Raleigh, NC to Mobile, AL…
[Part 4] Mobile, AL to New Orleans…
[Part 5] Tips and Advice…
[Part 6] A Final Word…
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