The more we travel, the more I get used to being a long way from home yet knowing exactly what’s around the bend. I’m honing the ability travelers have to be able to tell you minute details about places that freak you out when you get there, because they’re so close to how things actually look. It’s becoming easier for me on the I-75 corridor – the only highway we traveled frequently when I was young.
I was born in Atlanta. My Mom and Dad’s people were in Warner Robins, I had one Aunt in Valdosta, and when I was five, another Aunt and Uncle got stationed on Wright Patterson in Dayton, Ohio, so we traveled the 75 highway pretty much extensively if we went to visit family. As a matter of fact, I recall at least one early trip to Wright Patt that involved some pretty hairy state routes through Kentucky because 75 wasn’t finished all the way to Dayton. So I guess I’ve been traveling that part since it was built.
Excuse me while I go fart some dust.
Everyone looks for landmarks, but I doubt they’re annoying enough to loudly repeat the name of the landmark, over and over again, like an insane macaw. Guess who would love to blame this annoying habit on a mild form of Tourettes, but would be a filthy liar if she did?
“FLORENCE Y’ALL!!”
“Oh no, here we go.”
“FLO-Rinse Y’ALL!!”
