Paving Over Memory Lane; Chico’s Monkey Farm; Nowhere to Go and No Hurry to get There; More Motorcycle Adventures on Back Roads Georgia Highways 17 and 341; Wooden Nickels.

I’ve never had a great memory. That’s why I write things down. Old photos of family and friends, and places I’ve been help me somewhat, but actually seeing the old things helps me the most. Highway 17 used to be the main conduit between Florida and Maine and was filled with fascinating, and sometimes troubling, roadside entertainment. When I-95 was completed, the roadside services, motor lodges and entertainments began to dry up. Highway 17 is still an important road linking communities but it’s become a four lane. That came at a further expense as when they widened the road they knocked down many of the old facilities. The rest were left derelict.

So here I am driving down the highway and trying to remember where things were. Where was  Chico’s Monkey Farm and the Dixie Jungle. Once you could see their bright pink advertising signs with garish colors and wacky designs every half mile down the road: “See the Monkeys!”, “Pet the Alligators”, “Pecan Logs” and “Souvenirs”. Men were boiling peanuts by the side of the road and there was scent of barbecue from Mammy’ Kitchen and Howdy’s Restaurant where they had the wild pink flamingos. And there was Archie’s Seafood Restaurant in Darien.

Leaving Darien this morning I decided to head north and took Highway 341, which I took all the way up to Griffin, Georgia from where I’m now writing. Got in moments before a thunderstorm hit.

Here’s just a list of observations for my memory lane:

Homes: Shotgun cottages, clapboard houses; small brick homes, some fancy, single and double wide trailers.

Trees: Pine, willow, maple, magnolias, mimosas, cypress trees in blackwater swamps.

Farms, pecan trees, peanut farms, peach groves, the scent of newly cut pine trees on a logging truck.

Peach ice cream at Dicky’s Peach Farm.

I just enjoyed the ride. I had nowhere to go and there was no hurry to get there. I daydreamed, meditated, prayed and gave thanks. Aren’t all our journeys, whether down memory lane or the four lanes of new adventures, ultimately about love? Remembering it, discovering it, preaching it?

Oh, and I passed lots of signs for Vacation Bible Schools. If they don’t teach those kids to love everyone, regardless of what roads they’ve taken to get here, then those classes aren’t worth a wooden nickel.

I remember wooden nickels.

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Long Roads-Long Memories; 1790 Inn; Reunions

What can one say about Savannah That hasn’t already been said? Probably nothing. Maybe one thing: If you go in the summer you had better be prepared. One day it was 95 degrees (35 Celsius). Today, with the humidity added in, it’s supposed to be 104 (40 Celsius). Fortunately, I was staying downtown at the beautiful 1790 Inn (which was partially built by my great grandfather). It allowed me to park the Harley and walk everywhere. Scouting out locations for scenes for my next novel. For example, if I want the character to die here, then where would the shot come from? Any trees blocking the view? How would the shooter have escaped? Not that way, it’s a one way road. Not that way, too many cameras. You get the idea. I’m looking at trees and bushes, what’s on the ground, tree roots forcing up the brick sidewalk. It’s actually fun. I also figured out where the closing scene will take place (Factor’s Walk), snapped plenty of photos and took loads of notes.

I also visited old haunts, walked through the amazing squires with the live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, and memories. There’s always a melancholy beauty about Savannah.

The highlight of my trip was a impromptu reunion with many of my cousins who knew about or could make it. We ate in the room where my great uncle Harry used to live. (Photo below)

Today, I’m heading another backroads direction, Highway 341 heading north. We’ll see what we encounter as we ride. Safe travels.

 

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