End of Day Seven: Friday, November 24, 2017
It is the seventh day of our nine day road trip. Last night we stayed in Charleston, West Virginia. So far, West Virginia is one of my favorite states of all the stares I have visited. My sister Cindy says that one day I will disappear and she will know to look for me on the side of a mountain somewhere in West Virginia.
Breakfast was Waffles made on one of those handy-dandy motel waffle maker machines that Sharon taught me how to use a few days ago. My culinary skills are really getting a workout this week.
With our bellies full and our fuel tank filled we set out to see what treasures the day had in store for us. We didn’t have to travel far before a rare sight came into view in the form of a Ben Franklin department store. Sharon parked us in the parking lot faster than a lighting strike on old Ben’s kite back in the day when he discovered electricity. While she made her way through the variety aisles of Ben Franklin I took the opportunity to go for a short walk around Fayetteville.
Hobbits, cupcakes, home decor, antiques, a cafe in an old cathedral, variety seemed to be the key word for this little town. A statuesque Frenchman, the Marquis De Lafayette, proudly greeted me on the courthouse lawn where he stood surveying the goings and comings of passerby’s. Nosey tourists like me often pause to observe him and wonder what he might have sounded like as he bid “au revoir”.
I arrived back at Ben Franklin just in time to help Sharon load bundles of fabric into the automobile then we quietly skirted across town for lunch at the Secret Sandwich Society. What we ate was delicious but will remain unidentified due to the rules of of the establishment.
It has long been my practice to pray over my GPS and request beautiful scenic routes so I wasn’t surprised when directions took us on a one lane dirt road for several miles as we made our way down the mountain. Sharon was much more agreeable with these backroad adventures than my brother-in-law Todd is. He thinks My GPS is broken and uncivilized.
By mid-afternoon we arrived at the Glade Creek Grist Mill in Babcock State Park. The mill was closed for the winter but the scenery was still breathtaking. I bounced around taking photos and a tall gentleman named Jerry introduced himself to Sharon. He is a native of West Virginia but lived in Fort Myers during the 80’s and he is familiar with LaBelle. It’s a small big world people, or maybe it’s big small one. Jerry promised to look us up if he ever makes it down south again.
We are only three quarters of the way through an outstanding day when what to our wondering eyes did appear? A tunnel. That’s right, a tunnel. I rolled my window down and Sharon’s teenager instincts took over. I’m sure you can guess what happened next, the sound of a blowing car horn mixed with our joyful laughter filling the tunnel with youthful glee.
How could we possibly top off this wonder filled day? Our stop for the night was going to be in Dillard, Georgia. The route happened to take us through Waynesville, North Carolina which is where Sharon’s sister Debbie lives. So a few phone calls later and we were dining with Debbie at Bogart’s, the perfect ending to our day. A short drive after dinner and we were snoozing in Dillard.