I decided to take a ridiculously long way home from Knoxville so as to spend as much time on top of the Cumberland Plateau as possible.
So I’m driving down the country roads, diggin’ on some bluegrass and comparing the heights of cornfields. It’s blissful with one small problem.
The farm truck I’m following has had its right blinker on for 20 miles now. If anyone knows the owner of a primer-colored piece of crap Ford pickup truck, license#AVP665, please call him on his CB and ask him to cut it off. It’s busting on my buzz! (Natural high, of course. I’m driving.)
Come to think of it, I reckon the guy riding behind me is probably complaing about the erratic driving of the guy in front of him who’s typing on his Treo with one hand. Fuggem and feed ’em fish, I say.
I consider this little jaunt to be uniquely American, like drag races and tractor pulls, because it’s loud, senseless and consumes fossil fuels.
Next stop, Gruetli-Laager.
Sent from my Treo