Clowning Around.

"Don't be one, drink one."

Savannah, GA – As we set out for the day, the sun beat down on the Blue Ridge mountains, which lay before us like crumpled green paper.

Such is the ever-changing origami of a road trip, which unfolds into new shapes and designs before your eyes – unlike the map, which lay twisted and torn beside the seat.

Abandoned, wood-planked houses stood in the valleys, missing the teeth that have since allowed years of stories to escape. Vines grew in strands over their roofs like a long-overdue haircut.

They stood, in most cases, proud, but saddened.

In the distance, cows dotted the hills like pepper.

Billboards and signs provided a break from the repetition of trees and hills. One truck stop offered "Tattoos and Department of Transportation Express Approvals." No thanks.

Others recommended we "Buckle up...for the next million miles," or advertised "Guns & Ammo & Wedding Supplies." Talk about a shotgun wedding.

Our arrival at a North Carolina visitors centre offered a pamphlet and the intrigue of a small detour. After a glance at the North Carolina Brewers Guild’s offerings, how could we not stop at a craft brewery called Ass Clown Brewing Company? Really.

While the company with a possessed-looking Ronald McDonald logo may be located in a non-descript business park, a sample flight did all the necessary talking: dark chocolate sea salt stout, Amarillo hemp IPA, bacon oyster imperial stout and a cinnamon hazelnut sour that was unlike anything I’ve ever had.

It smells like a cookie, but really hits you with the sour.

The mad clown obviously hides an alchemist’s kitchen.

Vitals:

• Time: 10 hours
• Distance: 881.5 kms
• Weather: Hazy, and sunny
• States: Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia
• Wildlife: None

La Florida.

Flagler Beach, FL – “What does that indicator light mean?” A tug on the steering wheel while pulling through an intersection in Savannah, Georgia provided the answer: power steering failure.

Thankfully, turning the car off in a strip mall parking lot allowed the car to reset and we were able to continue toward the coast – with an ever-wary eye cast at the dashboard. Approaching Florida, a significant increase in traffic flow punctuated the point that not all snowbirds had yet begun to migrate north.

Upon entering the state, we were greeted by anti-abortion billboards that lined the highway every mile or so, and cars that were adorned with “Choose Life” license plates sporting drawings of children. Even more disturbing was the billboard displaying a large automatic weapon and the tagline, “Relieve Yourself.”

Welcome to the south.

Vitals:

• Time: 12 hours
• Distance: 780.8 kms
• Weather: Sunny and warm
• States: South Carolina, Georgia, Florida
• Wildlife: None
  

A Caricature.

Spartanburg, SC – Weaving through hilly switchback cicatrices and past the French Broad River in the back country of North and South Carolina, we finally had our first deviation from the Interstate on this trip. 

Naturally, the day had begun to yawn.

A rock slide in Newport, Tennessee had caused us to detour an hour out of our way, which not only provided fun driving in the hills, but the most eye-opening experience of the journey thus far. It was a prime and timely opportunity to reflect on our good fortune, even in the face of current adversity in our lives.

Like a sad caricature, a young pregnant woman stood smoking on the rickety porch of a fallen-down trailer nestled in the trees. A half-dozen baby carriages in various states of disrepair sat perfectly aligned, much like the weathered, parted-out pick-up trucks to the side. 

I almost expected the moment to carry a New Yorker-type quip underneath.

Throughout the area, decrepit trailers and clapboard homes shrugged like depressed shoulders. Perching on the edge of the riverbank, they lacked doors and sported window frames that slouched into diamonds. A pauper’s garden of refuse dotted the lawn.

It really made us think, even as we careened through the fun-to-drive hills and curves – extreme poverty exists everywhere. Though unexpected, it was the day’s highlight.

From the time we entered Tennessee, however, we could tell from the spicy, humid aroma of the air and the red and white flowering trees that blossomed like small puffs of smoke that the onset of spring was already here. With budding trees comes a budding season and budding promise for the journey ahead.

And Carolina barbeque for dinner wasn't a bad way to end a day, either.

Vitals:

• Time: 14 hours
• Distance: 1,323.3 kms
• Weather: Predominantly grey, warming up in the afternoon; rain in major cities in the north
• Province/States: Ontario, Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, North Carolina, South Carolina
• Wildlife: None
  

Vote for Pedro.

Aberdeen, NC – Passing each other like old acquaintances, the sun set with a tip of its cap to the fog that rose over crops of corn, cotton and tobacco as we drove along highway 501 in North Carolina this evening. Deer glanced casually at the road before continuing to pillage the farmer’s field.

It was my favourite part of the drive on our trip so far.

Earlier in the day, large colourful billboards broke up the endless green of pine trees for a couple hundred miles leading to the North-South Carolina border. Containing bad puns, offers for the biggest fireworks store in the world and a Mexican caricature named Pedro, the signs were rendered all the more hilarious by the giddiness of having sat in the car so long through storms and otherwise unchanging scenery.

The billboards for South of the Border, SC are remin- iscent of those that guide you through the barren landscape to Wall Drug in South Dakota, albeit with a distinct Mexican flavour. The latter, however, bears the slogan “Where the heck is Wall Drug?” South of the Border, advertising an amusement park, arcades, restaurants (“You never sausage a place”) and hotels makes you ask “What the heck is it?” Not to mention, “Is that what it’s really called?”

Finally running out of signs, we approached South of the Border and were greeted by enough neon per capita to make Nevada blush and a giant sombrero tower. Of course we were.

Somehow (and perhaps unfortunately), we didn’t stay.

The Beauty of History.

Charleston, SC – Right down to the Battery, the quiet of Charleston's historic district is punctuated only by the occasional sharp strike of horseshoes against the stone streets. These are, after all, just people's homes.

In the carriages that follow, tour guides provide historical anecdotes in a slow, welcoming drawl as effortlessly as if they are telling you about a family member while sitting on one of the city's many verandas, sipping a cool sweet tea. You get the sense even the horse would even be dignified in carrying-out its business.

Palmetto- lined roads frame colourfully painted homes that boast the impressive gardens and ornate ironwork for which Charleston is known. Outside each, it seems, is a placard describing how the centuries-old edifice was once a market, then a school, a government building, a hotel and how it is now a single-family home. It's rare to find such untainted, uncommercialized beauty in today's cities.

In some ways, it is also hard to imagine this city absorbed the blows of the revolutionary war for three years and that the civil war started here. It is also the birthplace of the submarine.

What a gorgeous city, wrapped in a history text.

Nags Head to Charleston.

Charleston, SC – Signs warning of bears lined the road along Alligator river as we took a gorgeous drive south from North Carolina’s coast this morning. Alas, we didn’t see any, though the area is apparently one of the last remaining strongholds on the eastern seaboard for black bears.

Their hiding may have something to do with wearing a fur coat in this humidity.

Cutting inland toward South Carolina after making our way through Roanoke Island, we threaded through a series of long bridges – including a draw bridge that stood at full mast to let a pair of sailboats through – that stitch the many islands to the mainland.

We stopped in the former Swiss settlement of New Bern, NC, which is most notable for being the birthplace of Pepsi Cola. The unassuming pharmacy in which Caleb Bradham concocted the fizzy drink during the 1890s exists as a Pepsi shop today and even serves fountain pop.

Reaching South Carolina, we hoped to see some of the old plantation houses, but had our hopes dashed every time we saw the word ‘plantation’ on a sign – it seems the term is used for everything down here: golf courses, communities, shopping malls, hotels and gas stations. Nothing like embracing your history.

We also had our first stretch of poor weather tonight as we appr- oached Charles- ton. Severe storms are flexing their muscles along the coast north of here, but we experienced some torrential downpours along the way, including one that caused the temperature to drop 12 degrees in the span of just five minutes.

Making it into the city later in the evening after some 700 kilometres on the road, some locals recommended Jim ‘N Nick’s Bar-B-Q and we were very pleasantly surprised by the southern chain restaurant’s offerings. The little cheddar corn muffins they brought out are among the most delectable things ever. It also afforded me the opportunity to finally have some pulled pork on this trip after several days of seafood.

Both of those options, my friends, make me very, very, happy.