Patt loves working with children and occasionally substitutes at local schools. She had an assignment on Wednesday morning, so she and Mike were up early. I was already up and getting a few things done of my own when they pulled out at 7:15. About the time Mike was 
getting back from dropping Patt off, I joined Helene for the tail end of breakfast, and we sat and gabbed the morning away, exchanging stories from our past and ferreting out family history facts, some I’ve long forgotten and some I’ve never heard before. Helene made us lunch and I took that time to copy some names and dates out of a huge old family Bible that Patt had produced the night before. This family record she got from her (and my) great aunt Myra Deane (my namesake) that belonged to her parents, Grace and Hobart (my father’s and my namesake) in Montana in the late 1800s. Lunch was delicious and we yakked some more. Now I hope my Number One Aunt won’t be offended if I tell you she is 88, and by mid afternoon I think I had about worn her out. I love her dearly, so I offered her a break and I returned to DD to give her a drink (she carries 90 gallons of fresh water) and start preparations for departure.
Mike picked up Patt after school and shortly after they returned, I was ready with Essie hitched and DD pointed up the street. After some pictures, hugs, and kisses, I was on my way by about 5 PM. I’ll leave it to you to figure out who’s who in the picture.
My first stop was for propane, which was conveniently located on the boulevard I took to get back on I-85 out of Greenville. It was actually a stand-alone feed and hardware store, and as I turned onto the side street from which to access the parking lot, I realized the street looked like a dead end and I was pretty sure if I went in the parking lot in front of the store, I would be committed to an unhitch/re-hitch. But cold weather was behind me, my propane was down to ¼ or ⅓, and I figured a fill would carry us well into our western adventure. So I went in anyway. I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a bumpy, but passable driving path around the building. “Sure, 18-wheelers go around there all the time.”
getting back from dropping Patt off, I joined Helene for the tail end of breakfast, and we sat and gabbed the morning away, exchanging stories from our past and ferreting out family history facts, some I’ve long forgotten and some I’ve never heard before. Helene made us lunch and I took that time to copy some names and dates out of a huge old family Bible that Patt had produced the night before. This family record she got from her (and my) great aunt Myra Deane (my namesake) that belonged to her parents, Grace and Hobart (my father’s and my namesake) in Montana in the late 1800s. Lunch was delicious and we yakked some more. Now I hope my Number One Aunt won’t be offended if I tell you she is 88, and by mid afternoon I think I had about worn her out. I love her dearly, so I offered her a break and I returned to DD to give her a drink (she carries 90 gallons of fresh water) and start preparations for departure.
Mike picked up Patt after school and shortly after they returned, I was ready with Essie hitched and DD pointed up the street. After some pictures, hugs, and kisses, I was on my way by about 5 PM. I’ll leave it to you to figure out who’s who in the picture.
My first stop was for propane, which was conveniently located on the boulevard I took to get back on I-85 out of Greenville. It was actually a stand-alone feed and hardware store, and as I turned onto the side street from which to access the parking lot, I realized the street looked like a dead end and I was pretty sure if I went in the parking lot in front of the store, I would be committed to an unhitch/re-hitch. But cold weather was behind me, my propane was down to ¼ or ⅓, and I figured a fill would carry us well into our western adventure. So I went in anyway. I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a bumpy, but passable driving path around the building. “Sure, 18-wheelers go around there all the time.”
My plan for the day is to put a hundred or so miles behind me before stopping for the night. This will put me on the east side of Atlanta, where I will soon transition to I-20. But by then I’ve barely settled in, as far as driving goes. So without hesitation, I decide to put ATL behind me and that will put me outbound on the west side when the morning traffic starts inbound. So I call it a night in Douglasville, GA, a little ahead of plan.
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