Here we are in New Brunswick, GA. I know a family of gypsies that used to live here but they have since moved on to other parts.
I needed that rest day in Savannah. I was feeling somewhat whipped. It's probably physically harder to ride in the rain because you have to be on your toes to avoid a mishap. I think the rain is done for this trip. We've had quite enough.
Had dinner tonight at a local seafood restaurant. I sat with Michel, from Quebec, Larry from Michigan, Bill from Washington, Don from New York and Doug from the UK. As the only one from the South, the questions directed at me were:" What are hush puppies made of?", "What are grits made of?"," Do people fish from bridges a lot here?" "What did the waitress just say?"
"Does everybody say y'all?"
We've stayed in some very nice motels and a few not so nice. This one is in the latter category. Everyone will be happy to move on to Fernandina Beach tomorrow. It's only 60 miles down the road.
So you paid a price for not riding in the sissy van, huh? You are a stubborn old geezer! The goal line is getting closer -- I'm sure that you will feel a good sense of accomplishment. I boast my friend, Sam, when I'm eating wings and drinking beer with my little posse up here. Y'all stay focused now -- some of those Florida drivers weren't so good behind the wheel before they retired and moved down there! Going back down to Jen's for a couple of days -- I'll check in on you.
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