Trip Trans America — Part One
I’m writing from Santa Fe, a few weeks into my trip across the country that will end in late July, and wanted to share some stories & photos from along the way. I’ve never done anything like this before — either living on the road for seven straight weeks or writing about it — and so would love any & all feedback, whether about travel tips or even the writing itself. Also please feel free to share this out with anyone else you might think would be interested!
Let’s start with why I planned this trip in the first place. Given I’m heading back to school this fall, it seemed the perfect opportunity to take the summer to explore. Originally I’d wanted to take a trip around the world, but that might prove especially difficult in 2021, so I settled on a trip across the country. I’d never driven coast-to-coast, and besides wanted to see some new states & cities. The planning process took a couple months, just making slow progress whenever I had the free time.
Towards the end of May, after celebrating my grandfather’s 95th birthday, I drove from Chicago to NYC. While at the time I still had my Manhattan apartment, only two weeks remained before this fifty-night roadtrip, and those two weeks were filled with farewells and packing. So as I drove my car down the alley and east for New York, I felt nervous, as if not Chicago, not New York, but the car would be my home now, my touchstone from which to interface with the world.
I’m driving my mom’s Tesla model 3. After she passed away, my dad used it as his primary vehicle, but gifted it to me for use on this trip and thereafter. The Tesla app allows you to name the car, and in the days before leaving Chicago, the car kept stirring the same image in my mind: that of a droplet. I’d recently read a science fiction novel in which high-tech metal, shaped like droplets, fly throughout space. Thus, on that first day driving out, I renamed the car Droplet xxiv.
About nine hours after leaving Chicago I stopped at a Quality Inn right off the highway near Pittsburgh. My chief concern with the Tesla had been the charging stops, but it turns out there are so many and they really are fast. Smooth sailing so far.
Next morning I headed off-route to Fallingwater. A Frank Lloyd Wright house in the middle of the woods straddling the river, it appears as if it grew naturally out of the surrounding terrain. And perhaps in a sense it did.
Completed my drive with a charge in Jersey City, and drove into:
Manhattan, New York
Parked my Droplet in a garage near my apartment. NYC had been my home for five years, and felt like home for four. For instance, I’d fly in from visiting my family in Chicago and once the taxi came within sight of Manhattan and then drove down its streets I felt a sense of relief and comfort. This time I did not feel that way. I felt unsettled, like a bit of an outsider, one who’s already moved on.
Those last two weeks were a race to the finish. Many drinks with friends, including my cocktail tour. Spent the rainy memorial day weekend packing. On Thursday June 3rd I returned to the office for the first time since the pandemic started. I’d loved working at One World Trade Center and felt emotional walking in there for the first time in over a year and last time perhaps forever. With twenty-four people there, all fully vaccinated, there was great energy. We celebrated my and my supervisor’s going-away with dinner & drinks.
Friday I went to the Yankees-Red Sox game with my friends. Pregame we met at a bodega outside the stadium, through which you can walk to the back to an open area for drinks. The Red Sox pulled ahead to start the game and never let go.
Saturday I threw my going away party. First I walked a bit around the city, eating oysters at The Dutch, where it seems they celebrate Pi Day all year round. Then I met friends for drinks at the Mace, from which we repaired to their nearby rooftop for a champagne toast. Rounded out the night with dinner for ten at Berimbau and some afterparties in Brooklyn.
Sunday I departed. My brother came over in the early afternoon to help me pack up. Fortunately I’d shipped most of my things to LA earlier in the week, so we only had to pack clothing and other personal effects. I picked up the car from the garage, we loaded it up, I dropped him off at his apartment, and then I went on my way.
My first stop was for a final view of the Atlantic. I drove through the Battery Tunnel into Brooklyn, then across the Verrazano Bridge into Staten Island. Got out at the FDR Boardwalk & Beach, looked at the surrounding city and off into the distance, touched the water for the last time as an East Coast resident, and returned to my car.
Thankfully I’d planned to spend the first night close by, in Delaware, the first of the states on this trip to which I’d never been. My uncle’s niece lives there and graciously offered me to stay with her family, so not long after the sun went down the Chiltons welcomed me into their home in:
Wilmington, Delaware
The next morning I began the sightseeing portion of my tour. First I drove around the neighborhood, getting to know the town where my uncle grew up and even seeing the houses he lived in as a kid. Then I headed right over the Pennsylvania border to Longwood Gardens.
I’d planned to confine my sightseeing to Delaware, but both my uncle and the Chiltons had gotten so excited talking about Longwood that I felt compelled to visit.
Arrived right at ten’o’clock for their opening, to a line that extended way out the door. It moved pretty fast though, so within ten or fifteen minutes I entered the garden. Very sunny and hot day — I stayed conscious of ways to find shade. I could have looked at a map, but feel that sometimes works contrary to the purpose of exploration. As a character remarks in Liu Cixin’s The Dark Forest: “No, no, don’t say where we are. Once we know where we are, then the world becomes as narrow as a map. When we don’t know, the world feels unlimited.” Besides, it speaks well to a place that it allows you to feel enveloped, contains twists and turns that make you gape. Longwood had both of those.
You could also say I did not feel in the mood to read up on anything. The plants, the grounds, the history, anything. Just wanted to walk around and feel tranquil, detox from my two weeks in the city, my five weeks in Chicago, my five years in New York, and the emotional ups and downs built up over twenty-six years of life. Inflection points like this have a way of making that time come crashing down on you. But the garden is a sanctuary.
Drifted to the left of the entrance, to some geometric shrubbery. Then kept walking, struck by purple flowers, trees with levels, the movement of water, and a structure evoking the Tower of Joy. Then I walked into the greenhouse. Very stately. So many animals! And more moving water. A massive organ room.
Then wandered towards a walk around the woods, and then around an open field. Was so hot. Stopped halfway around the loop at the Forest Edge, where, if uncultivated, the forest would encroach on the open land. On the side of an open cabin I read, “when the oak is felled the whole forest echoes with its fall, but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze.”
Walked back across the field and up into some treehouses, feeling like a child. Then went through the Italian Water Gardens. More flowing water! On my final walk out, I took a look across at the people, bright clothes reflecting off the water, and thought of A Sunday on La Grande Jatte, of the feeling of happiness and its fleeting, its out-of-body nature. Last stop was the gift shop, where I found a magnet I liked and went to check out. The one person ahead of me in line had already paid but took up five minutes flirting with the cashier. Starving and hopefully not sunburnt, I made my way back to the car.
Drove back into Delaware for a stop at Buckley’s Tavern, a local spot where my uncle used to go. They had old lanterns on the wall, a painting of the tavern in winter, a map of New Castle. The French Open was on TV, Nadal vs Jannik Sinner in the first set. I sat at a hi-top with backed chairs and ordered a burger and a beer, the latter being Mispillion River Brewing’s Space Otter American Pale Ale. It was fairly popping, the seating nearly full, and while I sat in the bar room, the back dining room also felt full when I walked past to use the bathroom. You could tell most of the patrons were locals because, besides its being a Monday, one guy chatted with the waitress for a while and when he left she said goodbye by name. People enjoyed all kinds of food & drink: mussels, calamari, iced tea, cobb salad, side caesar salad, one cosmo, rye club sandwich, grilled cheese, and of course burgers & beer. Mostly burgers & beer. They brought out my burger and I ate it and the fries with House Recipe ketchup.
Now it was time to drive to the Tesla Supercharger in Newark DE. I thought maybe I’d grab a coffee there, and while my uncle had recommended Brew HaHa!, I really needed to get to Richmond. Then I saw Brew HaHa! on the map right next to the road I was on and pulled over. My uncle had said everything is close in Delaware, but I didn’t realize that it’s really so close that one can’t help but go places.
Inside, Brew Haha! had a very homey decor. Beads hung down from some of the ceiling lamps, across from a wall full of art. To the right of the baristas they actually have a bar. Could tell this was a big local spot too, as another guy, after chatting up the barista, received a personal adieu. They had pretty art on their for-sale coffee beans. I drank my espresso and plain pellegrino then headed out.
The route down took me through the harbor tunnel of Baltimore and then into downtown DC. On the way I listened to some music. Also resumed The Power Broker on audiobook which I’d started upon leaving Chicago. Between DC and Richmond I missed getting in the EZ Pass express lane because my navigation didn’t so direct me. Stuck in traffic and seeing all those cars zoom past, I made the move over at my first opportunity. That confused the Tesla map, which thought me lost, but the move ended up saving 15 minutes. Shows sometimes you need to trust your eyes and not the tech. A few hours later I’d returned to my birthplace of:
Richmond, Virginia
Felt pretty nostalgic pulling in. Only having visited twice since moving away, I felt like a lost child pulled back to his beginnings.
My only criteria for an airbnb had been that it’s downtown and reasonably priced. But turning onto my street felt like going back in time. I could see from the car that many houses had historical marker signs, with one mentioning Patrick Henry. My street, 24th street, was paved in the middle, but by the curb it was cobblestone, on which my RHS wheels rested as I pulled over and parked.
The host greeted me at the door and gave a quick tour of the house. It was built in 1877, and my room, which faced the street, was part of the original structure when the building was just one room over one room. Within five minutes of settling in, Carol & David pulled up.
They are my uncle Mike’s sister & her husband. The last time I was in Richmond, Carol gave me & my dad a tour of the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, where she works. My favorite piece of art from that summer day in 2018 was this russian egg, but nothing equaled being shown the back room where they prepare paintings for exhibition. Back in 2021, I got in their car and they gave me a quick tour around Richmond. They immediately began to moon over all the preserved houses, pointing out that my airbnb neighborhood, Church Hill, is one of the oldest parts of town. At my mention of Patrick Henry they exclaimed “yes! the church where he gave his ‘give me liberty or give me death’ speech is in fact that very church right down the street from your airbnb.” And only now, writing this, did I put together how Church Hill got its name. We stopped at Libby Hill Park, which has a beautiful view of the James River. In fact, it was from this view that settlers, reminded of how the Thames looked from Richmond Hill in England, gave the city its name.
After stopping by a few more vistas, we drove down Monument Ave, where all the confederate civil war monuments used to be. Surprisingly one still remains: that of Robert E Lee. Apparently those who gave it to the city did so on condition that it remain up in perpetuity. While the issue of its future is in court, protestors graffiti’d it during the events of Spring 2020, giving the statue more symbolic value than ever. The VMFA, on the other hand, now has a symbolic statue of its own, created as a response to that of the confederate JEB Stuart and originally unveiled in Times Square.
We went downtown for dinner at The Daily Kitchen & Bar, where I had a gin martini, calamari, brussel sprouts, and a buddha bowl with salmon. Lovely catching up with family!
The next morning I got coffee at Riverbend Coffee Co and drove to the state capitol. Designed by Thomas Jefferson and Charles-Louis Clérisseau, it sits at the top of the hill, intended as being a public place where anyone could walk in, a symbol of the people’s government. Recently however they’ve built an underground entrance, undermining its representation of governmental virtue. Last I stopped at the White House of the Confederacy. It looked pretty unimposing, just a cute little town house, dwarfed by the surrounding VCU medical buildings.
Headed out of downtown for the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. Here as with Longwood I strolled aimlessly, the difference being I stopped more often to look at the flower names. Well, and at flowers too. Some of my favorite (names) were Lily of the Valley, Bluestar aka Blue Ice, Spider Lily, Witch Hazel, and Byzantine Gladiolus. They had some cozy nooks & crannies that would be great for a garden party.
“Leaves once raised by boughs to the sun
now cover branches cast to the ground
by mighty gales from seasons past,
rejoining earth from which they came,
to decay, disperse and rise again
as sapling, flower and fern.”
— Archie Abaire
Drove out towards my Godmother’s cabin in Independence. En route I listened to some music. After lunch in Charlottesville I felt pretty tired. Saw a roadsign for an exit to a Natural Bridge but worried it would significantly take me off course (and I’m spending enough time in the car these seven weeks). To my chagrin, after passing the bridge detour I noticed on the map that it wouldn’t have taken me too far off. But not a moment later I spied a dark cloud ahead with haze beneath, and rain started pelting down. I could barely see, only able to turn with the bends of the road thanks to flashing signals ahead. Suppose it gave me some schadenfreude-esque comfort that I wouldn’t have been able to see much of the Natural Bridge through the rain. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if you could opt for the Scenic Route on your map app?
After that I still felt tired, eyes continually drooping, so I pulled over for some unplanned coffee. Back on the road it rained off & on, mostly of the drizzle variety. After charging at Wytheville, I spent the last hour on winding roads, and all of a sudden found myself in:
Independence, Virginia
My Godmother Lillian had sent me directions, but I trusted the GPS as it took me onto a gravel road. Here we are: Rim Rock Lane. Passing some cows, I came to a fork in the road where to my right lay the destination icon and to my left lay the recommended route. Weird. So I broke out Lillian’s directions and they said keep right. Came up to a gate that said Richards. So I'd made it. But the road continued, up into the woods. No way to go but forward! Came out the other end and the road forked again. Went back to the email instructions and they pointed right, up a steep hill. Since it’d rained, the hill’s gravel treads for vehicles had transformed into small rivulets. I started up the incline, trying to avoid the rivulets as best as possible by using the grass. Looked up and saw Lillian waving from the cabin. Then my car got stuck. I jammed the gas and the tires started spinning spinning spinning until finally I regained traction and zoomed up. Parked with relief on grass at the top. An hour later I checked the Tesla app and noticed I’d lost ten miles on that hill alone! (The battery is measured in mileage, if I haven’t already mentioned). That hill couldn’t have been longer than a quarter mile — I’d heard that Teslas use extra mileage on inclines, but ten miles on a single hill! Better be careful when I get to Montana.
Lillian came out to greet me along with her daughter Leemie and their dogs Bernice (small) and Hazel (bigger). Both dogs presently returned to their active watch duty against such wildlife as bears. “Bears? Did I hear that right?” “Yes there are plenty of black bears around here. Our friend once went hiking to that exposed rock right over there and encountered a mother bear with her child.”
My hosts offered me beers that Leemie had brought up from her college town of Boone North Carolina. Kicked off with a double IPA from Appalachian Mountain Brewery, followed by a second from Blowing Rock Brewing. Meanwhile Lillian hopped onto a weekly zoom call with her mom and other family members which, considering we’re in a house in the middle of the mountains with no wifi, went pretty well. For dinner my hosts made spring rolls (with shrimp) and kale salad, which we ate outside with a sunset view. Post-prandially, Leemie took me for a ride in their Polaris ATV, whipping up and down through wooded paths and open fields, Hazel running alongside.
The next day forecasted rain, which didn’t play too well with our plans to raft in the river nearby. Instead we drove into North Carolina along the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Doughton Park Hiking Trails. There the sun shone. We began by walking across an open grassy field, surrounded by a panorama of hills. Then we reached a hut and the strenuous trail began. Kindof just sent it, thinking we’d turn back if we got tired or it ran too long. First stretch went downhill about eighty percent of the time, all through the woods. Virtually every tree we passed netted a couple strings of spider’s web in my face. Bugs constantly buzzed about. Lining the trail I saw many fallen flower petals, one huge mushroom, and a funky tree or two. We’d been going for about an hour when, leg muscles shaking, we turned around. The constant uphill proved doubly tiring but it felt great to be free of spider’s webs and back at the top we got to watch the butterflies and birds.
On the way back we got stuck behind a slow tractor for a bit. It rained as we returned to the cabin, and so we took a restful afternoon. I read and did laundry. As evening arrived I sipped whiskey and sat on the porch.
There I heard many sounds, most of which had persisted throughout the day, but came to life when I sat outside with a clear mind. I heard the wind chimes, the leaves blowing in the wind, the patter of rain, the song of cicadas, the chirping of birds. The latter sounded so constantly that I felt it in ways resembled the honking of horns in NYC — only more frequent — and so perhaps more akin to the sound of Manhattan cars driving by. Other noises came in fits & starts: dogs barking, cows mooing, branches falling, rocks colliding, a plane passing just over the cloud cover.
At one point I heard what sounded like a distant helicopter; I looked but didn’t see anything and the sound disappeared. Later I heard the same noise and looked again, just as the hummingbird zipped around the porch and zoomed off below. So that’s what that sound is! Lillian later told me she used to see more hummingbirds back when a tree still stood adjacent to their porch. Still, her rosewater did attract a few.
While the cows were not visible form the porch, I did see spiders, flying ants, regular ants, gnats, mosquitos, and bumblebees. And of course the dogs.
I came away from my two nights there with the feeling of how simple life can be. Wifi and TV need not be constant presences. How much could it hurt to unplug? I decided to turn off phone notifications at least through the end of this trip.
A life stripped of distraction can be reinvested, value created. All around the house Lillian has hung her paintings. She doesn’t paint because it’s her job or because people tell her to. She paints because she wants to, because she feels a need to express herself, and because she has the peace of mind to focus on it. When you spend your time on tasks like fixing your gravel road after a rainstorm, or even something small like refilling the ice trays, one realizes the daily craft one needs to put into life, one remembers that everything isn’t automated and we shouldn’t act like it is.
There were so many sunshowers over my two days there, many light rains that quickly retreated, and also a couple pouring rains that lessened within an hour. Just over in North Carolina it had remained sunny while it rained in Independence. Like neighborhoods in New York, proximity does not guarantee likeness.
For dinner that second night we had spiced chicken and ravioli (one variety being goat cheese & tomato, the other being cauliflower & regular cheese), along with a Hazy IPA from Wicked Weed Brewing. After dinner we made progress on a puzzle and went to bed.
Following a morning conversation with my Godmother, accompanied by oatmeal & coffee, I left for Alabama. On the way out I got out of the car to open and close their front gate. Sipping a to-go coffee, I wove through the mountains and into Tennessee.
I had this drive mapped for 9 hours and 30 minutes: eight hours driving and an hour thirty charging. Listened to one artist, and then another. At Knoxville I encountered the first full Tesla charging station of the trip; luckily I’d gotten mine plugged in while there was still room. Made my last charging stop in Athens Alabama, right by Huntsville. One other Tesla pulled in after me, and a guy got out with his wife and two kids. We chatted for a bit. They were near the end of their southern road trip: out from Orange County and through places like Phoenix, Dallas, New Orleans, Montgomery, and Nashville. I told him of my plan to circle the country, and to head to LA for business school. Who knows, maybe our paths will cross again! I drove for another hour and suddenly the car’s map read:
Florence, Alabama
I’d never been to Alabama but knew I wanted to visit. My first idea for a destination was Montgomery, but my aunt from Nashville recommended Florence. That was enough for me, so I booked an airbnb. But what to do there? I reached back out to my Aunt Louise. She passed along an email chain, which listed many activities, from her friend from college whose daughter lives there. So I had my list and felt good to go. But then her friend followed up, saying her daughter and her husband had offered to host me. I texted her daughter Grace and made arrangements.
My last night in Independence, Grace had texted me to confirm I’m still coming. I said yes and she offered for me to have dinner with them both nights. Here I was, in a state for the first time, and booked for two nights of dinner with people I’d never met.
I arrived a bit earlier than anticipated but didn’t want to disturb the Carltons at work, so I drove around the area a bit, seeing a Frank Lloyd Wright house and some of Muscle Shoals. Attempting to drive by its recording studio, I nearly turned onto a one-way street, prompting the car behind me to honk loudly. Next I slowed down too suddenly to make a right turn and the same car honked again and zoomed past. I felt unsettled, as if all the locals could tell I’m not from the south. The thought crossed my mind that I’d made a mistake, that I didn’t fit in here, it’s such a small town and I shouldn’t have felt like I could just bop around the country and expect to be welcomed wherever.
I pulled up in front of Grace & Juddy’s house. Her text said to pull right into the back carport. Well here’s a carport. Am I sure this is the right house number? Once I pull into the driveway there’s no turning back, and it would be really bad if a stranger just pulled into someone’s carport. Ok yes, it’s the right house number. Well, no way to go but forward. I pulled in.
Before I’d even opened my car door, Grace & Juddy came out to meet me. Could tell right away from their body language that I was a welcome guest; they then offered me a beverage and showed me around their house. Grace was hosting her sister’s baby shower in just two days, so the house was in a state of flux for cleaning. For instance, it had rained throughout the day, and so their dogs Bess and Penny had to be kept off the furniture as much as possible. After the quick tour, we talked for a bit in the kitchen: about what I could do next two days in Florence, about the dancing bear patch on my backpack.
We went downtown for dinner. From the options they presented I chose Odette, as I’d only ever heard that name in the book I’m currently reading. To start we shared fried oysters & mushroom flatbread while I tried a few of their whiskey cocktails. Then for the main I had spiced catfish with rice, along with an IPA. Didn’t eat any dessert but did sip some scotch. We talked to the bartender, who’s from Boston, and she told us about a nice Alabama vodka called Elizabeth. The conversation then turned to Odette’s toppest shelf whiskey and how people rarely get it, maybe three in the past year. But hey, I’m on a countrywide tour, so I thought why not, and got one glass for the three of us to share. The cork came apart as our bartender opened it, which makes sense, because it turns out it was distilled in the 70s. Tasted so smooth, like some borderline between a bourbon and a sherry scotch. Later learned why it’s so sought after: only a single 400-barrel batch was ever made, by a distillery that closed in 1988.
The next morning Juddy & Grace both worked. I ate a peach, said good morning to a happy camper, drove to Rivertown Coffee, and took my coffee to the park, where I walked up and down the river and gazed at the bluff.
Wrote a bit before driving to get lunch. On the way I saw a sign outside a church that said “service on the lawn // begins at 10am // youtube at 11am”. How an hour’s delay benefits their live streaming I do not know.
Juddy & Grace recommended Trowbridge’s for a classic lunch, so there I went. On the way I looked it up; Google said it’s an Ice Cream Bar, so I felt unsure it’s the right place. But how could there be another Trowbridge’s? Just as I walked in a seated party got up, and good thing too because it was packed full. Some ate ice cream but most were having lunch. My stomach needed a break from the prior night so I got a ham sandwich, chicken & rice soup, and classic lays chips. While waiting for the food I read the back of their menu, on which they claim to have created the Orange Pineapple flavor of ice cream, before their ice cream supplier stole the recipe and sold it out. Felt I couldn’t pass up giving it a try, and it was good. My imagination had gone wild wondering what Orange Pineapple would taste like but it really just tasted like half orange and half pineapple.
After lunch I decided to walk around town, maybe take a couple pictures of old buildings, then head back to Grace & Juddy’s. It felt nice walking around the town during broad daylight. Didn’t take long though since the downtown is small. Took a left at the end of Court Street and saw a single-lot building that said ‘Art Gallery’. I knew that the place being small, it had to be one of those galleries where everything’s for sale, meaning I’d have to talk to the shop owner. In other words it wouldn’t be like big museums where you walk in and appreciate the art without making any social interactions. I wasn’t in the mood for social interaction and so walked by the gallery ready to turn left back to my car, but then stopped myself and walked back, thinking that going into places like these is the reason I came on this trip in the first place.
Gallery owner did talk to me for a bit; there was no one else in the store. I perused, an abstract purple piece by Carolyn Wear catching my eye. As I stepped out of the main gallery room, the owner asked if I had any questions. “Actually, that purple one in there, do you know anything about it? Maybe how it was painted?” “Well it turns out you asked the perfect person, because I painted it.” “Oh!”
We talked for a while, about her process for painting abstract, how she got into painting after teaching biology, my trip and the work I’ve been doing, how she sells her husband’s handmade knives. I couldn’t resist and bought the painting, to be shipped to Chicago and later join me in LA. Another artist came out of the back room to go to lunch and Carolyn exclaimed, “we found Purple Reign a home! It’s going to go all the way from this small Alabama town to LA!”
Walking back to my car I got a call from Juddy. “Hey, my buddy got stuck out on the river and needs us to bring him gas, you wanna come with?” “Yes for sure.” I felt real excitement at the spontaneity of it all. First the painting and now a real-life situation I get to participate in first-hand. Stepping into my car I remembered the lions; both my Godmother and the Carltons had mentioned a live lion habitat on the University of North Alabama campus. It was on the way and sure enough the lion was out.
We got in the car, Grateful Dead playing as we drove to fill up a portable gas carton and brought it to a house by the river. There his friend, DK, met us, gave us two larger cartons, and then drove the boat back to the country club. We filled the new cartons and met him there.
While he parked the boat we hopped in the back of his pickup truck and took two beers out of the cooler. He got back and grabbed a beer too, saying of his truck “I gotta clean this girl, look at all this permadirt, you can tell turkey season has been great to me.” I learned that the dirt caked between his window and the car’s metal is recognizable as being leftover from driving down a wet dirt road. (during turkey season, of course).
We considered what to do for the rest of the afternoon as a boat pulled in to be loaded onto a trailer. “The water’s too shallow right now! I don’t know how he’s going to load the boat in there, he might scuff up the boat or take that truck all the way down into the water.” “They probably don’t realize there’s not much traction down there besides those skimpy logs.” A guy got out to help load the boat onto the trailer, and they had a few fits and starts. “As you can see this is what we do for fun in Alabama, watch people load up their boats.” Ultimately they got it on pretty smoothly; the boat was loaded on not 100% but just enough to drive. “Wow, they deserve a congratulations for that, I’m gonna tell ‘em.”
We decided there wouldn’t be time before dinner to take the boat back out. “Wanna hit the 19th hole?” “Sure.” Juddy and I went back to his car. I could see all the broken logs; they looked more like twigs. We drove three minutes to another parking lot, got out, and went to the country club pool. Called turtle point, the pool resembles a turtle if viewed from above. The 19th Hole is their special club drink: some combination of OJ, ginger ale, and rum. We sipped and talked to the two people working the bar, then went down by the river, discussing NFTs, golf, and fishing. Later DK went and chatted with people around the club. Juddy and I got Fesky Reskys, which include jameson, tonic, and another ingredient or two. We sat on the top porch and chatted. Before leaving they gave me a quick tour of the clubhouse, then we went back to get ready for dinner.
While waiting for DK and his girlfriend so we could all drive together, I turned on the Sixers-Hawks game. Last I’d watched the Hawks was with a bunch of Knicks fans as they closed out New York, and last time I’d talked about the Sixers was with the Chiltons, sad they’d lost Game 1. Well it turns out they’d tied it up and I hadn’t noticed. While watching, Juddy asked, “Have you seen the TV show Dave?” “No, but I have seen the Pillow Talking music video” “Oh is that good? I’ve seen a bunch of his other videos” “Ohh it’s sooo good” and so we decided to watch. When DK and Mary Margaret arrived I recounted my meal at Trowbridge’s. “Oh you got the wrong thing! Shoulda got chili dogs!” “Yeah I saw these kids with their dad all get that and it looked good. Still, the ham sandwich was exactly what I needed. Besides, it was the first item on the menu.”
We ate dinner at Champy’s across the river. Getting out of the car, my new friends recognized a table of diners. I shared with the table my quick background, including how I’m from Chicago and NYC. “Must feel pretty out of place down here, huh?” “You’d think! But in fact my mom’s whole family is from nearby West Point Mississippi” “West Point! No way! I drive there all the time for work!”
To drink I got a pitcher of beer called Truck Stop Honey. We started with hot tamales, eaten over crackers with coleslaw and crystal hot sauce. Next came fried green tomatoes & fried pickles. For the mains we all got fried chicken tenders with french fries. I remember talking about the license plates hung up behind our table, how the one with the state flag and the one with Heart of Dixie look way cooler than today’s options. We also talked about Alabama football, and how when I come back to see a game I have to see either Auburn or LSU.
I noticed they all used the word ‘family’ in ways I don’t hear from those in New York or Chicago. For instance, in mentioning their friend who left his dog at home without a clear plan for getting it taken out of the house, they said something like “that’s a family affair” and after dinner we drove over to let out the dog. On the way home we crossed the dam: “the dam is what built Florence. It brought all the jobs here, and not just the jobs but the engineers, then those smart people never left and more came to join them.”
We had a nightcap in Juddy & Grace’s living room, talking, watching music videos, snuggling with their dog Penny. She’d been in the dog pound, two days from being put down, when the Carltons adopted her.
From the start to the end it did feel like a family affair — even for a friend of a friend like me. You’d think it’d be awkward going to stay with people you’d never met, or that you’d be relieved to get your alone time from them. But no, they made me feel so comfortable, like I could have stayed indefinitely. I was sad to leave.
The next morning I got coffee & avocado toast at Turbo, which did have a different vibe than Juddy’s favorite of Rivertown. My guess is Turbo you get more of the UNA college kids, or perhaps more of the music crowd. As Grace made final preparations for the baby shower that afternoon, Juddy took me to Bunyan’s BBQ where we got a BBQ sandwich, a hotdog with coleslaw, lays, and Dr. Pepper.
In the end, when visiting a new city it’s one thing to read online for restaurant recommendations and another to get them from locals who live there. But it’s a whole other thing to actually go around and hang out with the local people, to hear the random things they say or to meet the people they know.
From Alabama I drove towards Mississippi, towards my family origins, shot down the Natchez Trace in my Droplet.
