On the way from Louisville, I saw signs for Bowling Green. Wait a minute, that sounds familiar. Then I see the sign for the Corvette Museum. Ok, I’m getting off here. I got there just before closing, but I had a chance to get a quick glance inside. It’s gigantic! Many, many Corvettes inside. I will have to go back. As I was leaving, I could see all the Vette owners parking their little Vettes at nearby hotels. Yuppies dragging their wives along to visit at a whole town dedicated to America’s sports car, presumably on a “vacation”. I stopped at Art’s Corvettes across the street and talked to Art about C5 prices. He thinks it’s a great time to get a C5 Z06. We’ll see.

Leaving Bowling Green, I passed through Nashville. The sun was setting behind me as I approached the city. The reflection off of the mirrored façades of the buildings was beautiful. Then I caught a glimpse of the BellSouth building. I hate BellSouth. So I kept going. Only 130 miles to Chatanooga! I can do it! A couple hours later, I was in Chatanooga, and decided to get some down-home cooking for dinner.

I had passed about 100 WAFFLE HOUSE and Cracker Barrel signs to this point. I figured I oughta give one of ‘em a chance. I picked the Cracker Barrel, because of sentiment. When I was a kid, my family used to take road trips up to Detroit to visit family. My brother and I loved stopping at Cracker Barrels, because they had little store to the side, where we could get old-fashioned candy from the basket. It was just a different experience for a kid from the big city! Well, 20+ years later, I understand the corporate machine behind the down-home façade. Big Barrel Business is destroying the real small town diners that make The South what it is. Sure this looks like a down-south cottage, but the rocking chairs on the porch here are for sale. Hell, the price tags are still dangling from them! But homogeny is a known undesirable side-effect of capitalism, and it didn’t piss me off too much that the environment was contrived. It still felt real. My waiter’s southern accent was real, and my catfish was good. I gave him a big tip and left.

I wanted to make it to Atlanta on the first leg of my journey. I was stopping to see a friend in Columbus, GA, on Sunday, so that would put me in a good position to make it home at a decent hour. I arrived in Atlanta at about 1 AM. I got off at the Georgia Tech exit, figuring I’d look around to see what kind of college parties were going on. I cruised through Peach Tree Drive. It looked like that’s the place to show off your ride, and I figured I’d watch the people drool over the VX. After one block, I realized that I was the only old white guy in site. I glanced over at a kid next to me, and he gave me the “wassup, dawg?” like I was starting something with him. I have no clue how things are in Atlanta, but I imagine it’s pretty racially divided, since it’s in the South. So I turned off Peach Tree and cruised around downtown for a little while, finally heading back towards the highway, where a homeless man came and cleaned my windshield for me. I’m sure he never saw a car with that many bugs on its windshield. This guy earned my money. He asked, “Did I do good?!” I smiled and said, “Yep. I can see now!”

About 20 or 30 miles south of Atlanta, I picked a random exit and got off. I parked at the King’s Economy Inn and got a room for $40. Then I walked to the local tavern and ordered a beer, delivered by a bartender who couldn’t stop calling me sweetie. Everyone obviously knew everyone there. It was last call. I finished my beer and left. Fresh night-time air on my walk back to my car. A lot of bugs, but fresh air! I slept like a rock at King’s. The beds were hard, but I was dead tired after 22 hours of travel. I woke up at about 9 AM, took a shower, put on some fresh duds, and left. I stopped by the front office to drop off my key, and saw that they had complimentary coffee and pastries for their guests. Very nice for a $40 room! I got a cup of coffee. They were out of creamer. Damn! The receptionist told me I could stop by the EconoLodge and ask them for some. They were owned by the same guy, after all. I just drank it black. I have a long trip ahead of me!

So back on I-75 south, I called Chris in Columbus. “No, no, you were supposed to take I-85 at Atlanta.” Oops! So I’m about 40 miles out of the way, now. So I decided to cut across on US 16 to get to I-85. Well, trying to make up time and not seeing a posted speed limit, I picked up the pace a bit. I got stopped by some undercover cop in a one-horse town called Frankfurterville or something. He was nice, but he wrote me a ticket anyway. 73 in a 55. Ouch! I asked him how far to I-85. He said “you shoulda taken that from Atlanta!” like I’m a dumb *** for not realizing it. LOL. I took my ticket and left.

Got to Columbus finally, and met Chris at his place. He lives in a suburb of Columbus that is tucked neatly inside a park with beautiful scenery. I wish they had places like this in Miami. In my rush down, I forgot to pick them up a gift, so I stopped at a local drug store and got a candle. It was that or a card. I felt like an idiot for not finding something more creative, but chances are whatever I got would be off-target, anyway, and it’s the thought that counts. Besides, his wife will like it. Women love candles. His wife was at church. We went and got lunch at Applebees, and talked about cars for a couple hours. He said the VehiCROSS looks cool, but he had never seen one before. After we ate, I dropped him off at home again and took off. I had an 80-mile trek to get back on route to Miami, and it was already afternoon. Things were looking bleak!

Through 80 miles of small Georgia towns, I drove. I saw plenty of signs for “Peaches” and “Pecans”. I thought about stopping to pick some up for my girlfriend, but the first one was completely barren. It was Sunday, after all. Anyhow, I was running late. On, forward! South Georgia fields have an interesting look to them. I’m not sure what they were farming here. I guess pecans. They have these huge curved space-frame contraptions that look like the frame of an Ariel Atom. I assume that they’re used to speed the farming process, but I’m not interested enough to figure out what they are or how they work. The contrast between space-age technology and old-school farming is an interesting sight, though. I finally hit I-75 and turned south toward Florida. My long voyage was almost over. Well, sorta.

I still had to travel 275 more miles on I-75, then another 275 miles on the Florida Turpike. Then I’d be home. 550 miles doesn’t seem like much. It goes by pretty quickly at 90 mph, but my butt was hurting from 2 days of driving, and it was already about 4:30 PM. This was by far the least interesting part of my trip. There were some college kids swerving through traffic at 100 mph, apparently unaware of the “pass on the left” rule. They almost hit me. The landscape was boring. Grass. Pine trees. Grass. The drive to Miami is a bleak empty boring ride. Thank god for the CD changer. You can tell how close you are to South Florida by how badly people drive. Most don’t know the rules. Those that do are so frustrated by those that don’t that they go out of their way to piss them off. When it’s one step short of a demolition derby, you’re in Miami.

I got home and walked up to my place. My cat was there to greet me. He meowed and plowed his face into me. I opened the door and called my girlfriend. She ran to me and gave me a hug and a kiss. We went outside looked at the VX. I was smiling. She was happy because I was happy. I could tell she didn’t like it. Oh well! It was 10:15 PM. I went inside and crashed on top of the bed, face down. She came in and gave me a massage. My back was in knots. Afterwards, I took a hot shower, dried off, and climbed into bed, falling asleep instantly.

That’s it! Thanks for reading! Sorry I don’t have any pics, but I really didn’t want to turn this into a vacation. This was a purposeful trip. I must admit that it was fun, though. The 1600 mile drive down from Chicago to Miami was a great experience. It really bonded me with my VX, too. In retrospect, it would have been great to have turned this into a pictorial story, but there’s no sense in regretting what you can’t change!

Steve