Saturday, November 6, 2010

Day 3 Kentucky. Tennessee


Birthplace of Old Abe Himself....
I must start out this days journal with an apology to Illinois. Sort of. Southern Illinois is beautiful. It's rolling hardwood covered forests do seem as if Abe could step out on the road at any time, axe in hand...having said that I'll qualify my remarks by saying Southern Illinois is a sort of reward for having to cross the rest if it, I think.

Crossing the Ohio into Kentucky
 Today's trip was a short one in comparison to most days, we were a little weary setting out, in retrospect considering the distance we covered and the "marginal" campground we ended up staying at, we would have been better off staying put at the lovely campground we stayed at the night before, (see day 2), for an extra day and resting up.

It seemed the further we went, the behinder we got, so finally, we decided to pull off the road and stay at the first campground I could locate, which turned out to be an old trailer park that had been converted into an RV park, only most of the people there had traded their tin trailers for smaller dilapidated fiberglass camper homes.

Mind you, I am not averse to trailer parks, or dilapidated RV parks, for that matter, most are quaint and filled with hard working people...this one was not one of those.

Blurry picture of Tennessee Border sign...sorry
I have lived in trailer parks at one time or another, they are great transitional places, but not anywhere you would want to try and raise kids or anything. This one had the smell of discouragement, this was the final destination for most of them.


This place had kids. Bored, rammy, in-your-business kind of kids. After conversing with them cordially while setting up, we retreated into our sanctuary and watched them circle us endlessly on their bikes for hours hoping we would re appear and resume the conversation.

Terri's Control Center Set-Up on the Road
There was the crabby Lady behind us, ritually yelling at the kids as they passed, words blurred by booze, (evidenced by the bottle she clutched and waved at their passing, punctuating every lap with curses).

Not that there wasn't a bright spot or two, the folks next to us had blundered in the half hour after we did and Doyle had a nice "Rig" chat with the owner.

There was also "Football Guy" next door who hailed Doyle as he incinerated a large chunk of meat on his gas grill and had a nice talk. You could tell he was on his way up and out by his optimistic attitude. We wish him well.

The night passed quickly and we stole away in the early morning light, reminding ourselves that we simply must put more thought into where we lay our heads at days end. It was the first RV Park we had to lock the door at, nuff said.

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