Wednesday 24th February 2010 - South of the Deep South

          So it's off again; in rather wet weather.  Dulcie, to my surprise, takes me off the interstate at the first opportunity.  In fact, she dragged me past the place where the aged rockers were playing the other night: perhaps they caught her eye.

          Again, the 'emptiness' of the place catches my attention.  But, as usual, the scenery can't hold my attention: I've discovered that the engine management computer will display what it considers to be the instantaneous MPG, and, since I get to use the cruise control quite a bit, I'm happily distracted by its confessions of inadequacy.

          There is also the usual variety of place names: "Andalusia" and "McKenzie" on the same sign; Geneva and Elba; and the surprising "Ponce de Leon" (I just had to find out where this last one came from.  The, eh , 'Ponce', was a Spanish Explorer, first Governor of Puerta Rico, who, it is said, came to Florida to look for the fountain of youth.).  Just before PdeL, south of Samson, just before we left Alabama, I saw a small cotton field

          Then Dulcie drags me back onto I-10, where a big Mack (that's a truck) tries to run me off it.  With a bit better planning, I could have used US-90.  As we cross the Appalachicola River, it's now Georgia to the north, and a sign reminds me we're back in eastern Time.

          Then it's into Tallahassee, and Dulcie finds my hotel.  I chose it because it was cheap, but is has studio flats with whirlpool baths.

 

          Later that night, I find a drawback with the hotel: it's right across he road from a Texas steakhouse which not only has Sam Adams on draft, it also has the wonderful Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and it serves them in Imperial pints: a Lenten test for me to pass.