03/26/06
I just got back from Charleston. The drive there is a seemingly goofy, down-and-up, path to Interstate 95 via Interstate 16. I went to see the old town though I couldn't buy a whole lot due to my slimline budget. I also have this darned cap on my tooth that precludes me from having sticky or hard candies.

Vacation started on my off day of Wednesday. I slept late like an idiot and woke up in time to take Sam, our newest acquistion to the feline fleet, in to the vet. He gave him a leukemia and rabies shot, prescribed antibiotics for a puncture wound to the ear, and told us to hustle back with him in three weeks for a leukemia shot and a test. Then he would be glad to have him neutered.

I packed and decided to do the darned rail for the hallway late at night. Mom encouraged me to go to bed. I woke up at 10 AM that Thursday and had lunch with Mom and Dad. At 1:00 I left for Charleston. I packed my rucksack for an overnight camping trip in case I went to the park in Aiken. I figured on returning that Sunday.

I drove along Interstate 16. At the old Nike site (missile base) in Jeffersonville I saw a water tower rise up. Its rusty, dark shell looked so much like a relic of the Cold War days. Yet I knew towers and ships made of steel look like a woman without makeup. The radar stands were gone and so was everything else but the metal ground-mounted water tank and generator building left from the Cold War. I regret having the base ripped down but historic preservation won't butter the bread that an industrial park will.

I drove on and made a wee-wee call in the woods near Dudley. I almost fell asleep several times until I got to Metter. I had the strongest stimulant you can get from outside a drugstore- Waffle House Coffee. I got gas and kept going. I turned north at Interstate 95 and went up 17 then back up 95 in a miscue at Hardeeville.

I made it to Charleston at 7 PM or so. I went to Blassinger's (or whatever) the barbecue place is on the Savannah Highway. I drove to the Days Inn off Johnnie Dodds Boulevard in Mount Pleasant. This was after I cursed the remaining skeleton of the old Ashley River bridge and said, "They finally tore the son of a XX down". I hated that bridge and Dad hated it even more; it was designed for Model T's and we had no such vehicle when we went to Patriot's Point in 1980 and 1988.

Next day: Market Street and the cold
Saturday; Yorktown, Laffey, Clamagore, and the cutter Ingham.