Abby is not a low-rider. And, unlike WAR's song, I definitely needed gas as I took an almost two-hour drive to work this morning. See, you can't get there from here down in this neck of the woods. I'm sure you can if you know the back roads but...I only know one way. So take a little trip, take a little trip with meeee.
Set off just a smidgeon earlier this morning...just a smidge...and was feeling pretty good about myself. Out onto 19, cruising along (teeth hurting but that's another tale), laughing at crazy Steve Harvey, and enjoying the fall morning. Pass through Nutbush, Tina Turner's home "town", slightly above the speed limit of 45 mph. Pick it up to 61 mph and the oncoming car flashes its headlights. Now, I haven't seen that done too much down here. Where I come from, it means slow down. OK...I'm doing 61; not my usual 70, although the speed limit is 55, so I start slowing. Well! He wasn't letting me know that the police were around but that an accident was ahead. Good grief! What the hell is that tractor trailer doing skewed across the road? THE road to Brownsville, where I just happen to work? And, needless to say, the ONLY WAY that I know!
Make the uie and head back from whence I came. Good googlie mooglie! I was 15 minutes away from my destination. How am I supposed to get to Wally? Whipped out the cell which, fortunately, was working and called the store to let them know of the dilemma. The assistant, from L.A., but living in Jackson, doesn't have a clue but helpful soul pulls up Mapquest. Hmmm...19 is the only direct route but you can go through Gates, through Maury City, and over to Brownsville...OR...you can go through Henning, through Covington, and over to Brownsville. Both are MILES away and out of the way. All options lead back to Ripley as the starting point.
Look in the rear view and there is no one behind me. WHERE DID THEY GO??? The perils of being a foreigner in a strange land. Coming up on Nutbush. Oh, the owner of a restaurant in Brownsville is in her Nutbush locale. She can tell me how to get to where I'm going. IF only she would open the door. N-O-T! So back to Ripley and stopped for gas. See...I'd planned on filling up when I got to the store. Not enough in the tank to take an unplanned detour.
Now, we're headed through Henning. Maybe I should stop at the police station? Surely they can head off some miles. NAW. You've seen the signs for Brownsville in Covington, somewhere. Keep on pushing.
Stop at a gas station, in Covington, to make sure that I'm in the vicinity of Rte. 54. "Don't start me to lying. The way I go is over the railroad tracks, make a right at the Charms factory and then a left at the 4-way light. It'll take you right into Brownsville." Sure enough. A VERY scenic and long drive through Covington, a little unincorporated town called GIFT, and finally into Haywood County. Still a long way from Wally. I don't see a damned thing that I know but I do know that 54 eventually intersects with 19. So just keep driving.
Well, isn't that the cutest little thing? A "family memorial garden" aka cemetery. Hmm, here's a gin bearing the same name. And warehouses and a farm. Gee, these folks got money. And, look, they're starting to harvest the cotton field. (The cotton, in my humble opinion, is mighty late this year. The fields still resemble a light dusting of snow or frost; not the fully-covered fields of snow I've seen for the past two years.) Finally hit my intersection and I'm still 10 minutes away.
Walk through the doors at 9:15 a.m. I started this odyssey at 7:20 a.m. As I relay my tale, everyone tells me that I could have turned here or there and come back on 19, ahead of the accident. And where was Maggie, you ask? On the dresser. After all, I KNOW the way to get to work!
Oh...the family with the money? It's not only big money but also OLD money. And I also learned that there are several kinds of gins. There's the cotton gins and there are the grain gins, both of which I pass daily. At least I knew they were GINS! :-)