Nothing else tonight except a simple rant against ever, ever, ever travelling on the same day as everyone else. Under the best of circumstances I'm not the world's nicest person, but on days like today where I have to share 500+ miles of tarmac with people of varying ability to drive really tests the bounds of my morality.
To backtrack, I spent the past 4+ days in N. Carolina with my wife's family at her sister's house. Nothing of note to report there (as, frankly, that's beyond the purview of this journal) other than that I played some of the best Euchre of my life, which probably raised my standing in my wife's family just a smidge.
I had predicted to my father-in-law that the worst section of the trip would be I-95 between I-26 and the Ga. border, and .... boy, howdy!.... was I ever right. 4 different accidents in that stretch of road. By the time we reached the Ga. border and three lanes of road, I was ready to kill someone. I actually cheered the misfortune of one idiot who tried to kill me and those around him for the 10 miles preceding his plowing into the ass end of the two cars in front of him during one of our all-too-frequent stops. He was driving his pickup truck w/ even larger pull-behind camper like I would drive my Subaru Forester. I shake my head in wonder at how some people don't kill themselves earlier in life. Unfortunately, I had to immediately feel bad for the two cars that bore the brunt of his stupidity, which would have been three but one guy (in a wine colored Nissan of either Sentra or Maxima presuasion) ditched to the left avoiding any damage other than to his blood vessels and liver from all of the adrenaline that would now have to be processed.
When we'd made it halfway through Georgia and had to stop for gas, and realized that now we were averaging less than 40 miles per hour, and I was putting more than just a little wear and tear on both my clutch and my brakes (not to mention what was left of my nerves), I told the wife to get a map and scope out a route to US 301, or better yet, Fl. SR 121. Having a degree in geography and working on a surveying crew, I leave, very un-male-like I might add, all decisions directions-wise to her. For those of you that know US 301 in my neck of the woods, to call it a 'ticket-trap' would be the very height of understatement. "Rural Town Cash Crop" would be much more appropriate. So, the decision to jump over to US301 figuring it would be nothing but little towns dropping the speed limit to 35 because there's a convienience store two blocks off a feeder county road punctuated by small stretches of 2 open lanes of pure unadulterated Georgia swampland was a momentous one indeed.
So, instead of turning left to go back to the River Sytx, er, I-95, I turned right, and had none of the problems I awaited. The rest of the trip was fast, stressless and almost pleasant.
The next time I travel up the Atlantic Coast by car, it will definately be up SR121 to US301 as far as i can stand it. Apparently, 301's 4 lanes all the way up through South Carolina. Better and Better.
Ta,
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