Tonight, the heat is nearly unbearable. Now in Kentucky, I've entered the South. Nothing makes this more apparent than the mullet to not-mullet ratio, which, even with every other haircut grouped together, is something like 5:1. Also, No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service seems not to apply.
My reception here has been mixed. Almost no one address me when I pass, some have even been rude. Though, one friendly South Virginian biked past and admired Pam. There have been many long looks at my VW girl, most with whispers of amazement. The VW Van became scarce somewhere around Wyoming, and judging by my reception in camp, the VW diaspora hasn't settled south of the Mason-Dixion at all.
The biking Virginian and I also spoke of the "locusts," which I would call cicadas. They are everywhere, constantly filling the sweltering air with a wall of buzzing noise. So loud, in fact, they drown out highway noise.
The campsite is busy, the accents thick and the mullets long. Across the camp, a family has stretched out a white bed sheet, on which they have projected the recent Dukes of Hazzard movie. Honestly, not seeing a whole lot of stereotype busters here. On the way to the camp, on the narrow country road, there were indeed two different sightings of the native pants-less beer-drinker in his natural habitat — the front porch.
First impressions are the important ones, so they say. As I venture south, I'll let you know if my first impression is broken or not.
“The campsite is busy, the accents thick and the mullets long.”
Hahahaha…
I’m glad your seeing more drunk, naked people on the porch. Makes you miss the boarding house, huh?
Andrew, It looks like you are having a great trip!
Send me an e-mail when you have a chance to talk about Florida.
See you soon