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I'd rather walk the Appalachian Trail in flip-flops than sit behind the wheel of a car barreling down the interstate. At heart, I'll always be a back roads kind of gal.
Spark is my polar opposite. He's a driving machine. When we're on our way to Florida he wants to get there, stopping only for bathrooms, gas and fast food. I'm proud that our long history together has softened him. Miles of pouting may have won him over, or beaten him down - or perhaps he's succumbed to the charms of deviating a bit from the concrete speedways that cross our nation.
On our way home from Florida we spent the night in Valdosta, Ga., at a roadside hotel. That was just fine because I'd called ahead for a reservation, asking if the hotel was new - "No, but it's just been renovated." Those were the magic words I wanted to hear.
After unpacking our overnight bag, we headed for downtown. Though we've driven through the city numerous times, we've only been downtown once, in the dark, and had never seen all the beautiful old Southern homes draped with Spanish moss. Lucky us, we hit Valdosta on the first Friday of the month, a night when the downtown throws a party much like our Sunset on the Riverfront.
There were plenty of restaurants to select from - our Italian pick was in an old building with a beautiful wooden staircase leading to the bar. The food was yummy and our server informative when we complimented her on the dishes and inquired about what had originally been in the building, a women's dress shop. Unfortunately, the restaurant would be closing in a few weeks, she said. They just can't make it with the depressed economy or compete with the interstate chains.
We heard the same story a ways down the road when Spark stopped in Acworth, Ga., for gas. It's the kiss of death when I ask to see the map. I suggested taking a different route, going home through Lexington to visit Kentucky Horse Park. That was a stretch, but Spark appeased me by heading south off the interstate to a small town where we had a marvelous lunch at a mom-and-pop diner with pies sitting out to entice us.
As we sat enjoying our sandwiches on marbled bread that tasted homemade, the lady who owns the restaurant pulled up a chair near us and had lunch too. She's been in business for eight years and wanted to give the community an alternative to fast food. It's been a struggle this year, she said, naming off the downtown establishments that have closed. But she plans on staying open and riding out the storm.
That stop was the last we made, and Spark could have been crabby about losing time, but he wasn't. However, I did notice that he tucked the map away in the glove compartment pretty quick. After 40 years, he knows me all too well.Ê
