That's the sound I seemed to be making a lot this past week, as I was on vacation with my beloved Jim. If I haven't mentioned, we went to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. That's a good ten hour drive if you start out early, but we left at about eleven on Friday night, so we ended up not getting down there until one the next day. Hey, we had to sleep at re-fuel and such, you know?
Day one was dominated by the drive. I tell you, I have almost never spent so long in a car. Jim and I switched off for driving, and it was really not a particularly exciting drive. The directions are simple, one takes I-295 to I-95 and one drives. And drives. And when one thinks surely one should be in Mexico by now, one continues to drive. About six hours after that, one drives a little more. After so many hours on the same road, one finally gives up, and then, that is when one gets onto S.C. route 501. Once again, one drives on the same road for, oh, eternity. This isn't to say that the drive down on 95 is hopeless. No, no, there's entertainment. Take, for instance, the traffic jam around Washington, D.C. at two thirty a.m. Or, (my personal favorite) the signs that are scattered about saying, "speed limit enforced by aircraft." There is, of course, lots of scenery. I have never seen more chunks of ruined tires and cars on a road. Ever. And let's not forget the lovely truck pulled over onto the shoulder, merrily alight. Thank goodness the man driving it got out before it caught. But even so, you know he's not having a good day.
And I leave you with that. It's late, I'm tired, and it is time for me to get some (more) rest. I will tell you the rest of my wonderful stories tomorrow, when there's been time to unpack and relax and settle in.