Another trip to seven acres of rusty automotive heaven tucked away in northern Georgia. Please click on photos for gallery views.
A shout-out to my faithful companion, Kemo Sabe, for getting us to this out-of-the-way destination using a primitive tool called a “paper map.” Zelda, long-suffering voice of Tom Tom, the magical GPS machine, could get us ANYWHERE but here, since the junkyard and the town it is located in do not exist in the world of GPS.
Kemo and Zelda were quite the pair for the entire 1,600 mile trip, sniping at each other, ignoring instructions and road signs and each generally trying to best the other in an on-going game of one-upmanship. Zelda would indicate a split in the highway (“In 500 yards, keep left.”)
Kemo would stubbornly remain in the right hand lane.
Wabi Sabi: “Stay in the left lane, Kemo.”
Kemo Sabe: “That’s not right. We don’t take this road.”
Wabi Sabi: “But, she SAYS…”
Moments later, Zelda: “Proceed 300 yards and make a U-turn…”
KS: “Trust me.”
Zelda: “At Cloverleaf Road, take a left and then another left and return to the freeway.”
KS: “She’s wrong.”
Zelda: “For the love of God, Montresor!”
WS: “Do you hear banjo music?”
This reminds me of the time my eldest son travelled to Mississippi to pick up a standup bass and, on his way home, decided that he wanted to see the crossroads where Robert Johnson made his Faustian deal with the devil to become the greatest blues musician in the world. He found the tiny rural community where Johnson had lived and went in search of the crossroads, but it was late in the day and road markers were a little vague and eventually, the road sort of petered out and he found himself in total darkness and sitting in a field all by himself.
In rural Mississippi.
In the middle of nowhere.
And not a light to be seen but his own headlights.
And where was his GPS in all of this? She (Zelda’s sister, Mavis) was quite sure that wherever he’d landed didn’t actually exist and refused to help, the tight-lipped satellite wife version of a cold shoulder: “You got yourself into this, mister. Now you figure it out.”
Which he did, eventually, though he has not spoken with Mavis since.
