Yesterday I woke up in Cincinnati, at the house of a very cool woman named Annabel and her dog, Josie. Cincinnati was a surprise - much nicer than I'd imagined - but the snow I slogged through in PA and northern Ohio was not.
Scout and I tracked south and west through Kentucky, over the rolling hills and around the white split rail fences. We stopped for lunch in a small town called Bardsville, which called up memories of being a tiny child in Jackson, WY. Small buildings, pickup trucks, and a pharmacy with a lunch counter slept in the thin sunshine.
After lunch, we drove and drove and drove, accidentally crossing the Mississippi and then tracking back to a dirty motel in Memphis. So far, good radio, bad continental breakfast.
Today should be a better driving day, since I spent much of yesterday afternoon and evening easing off the gas to avoid getting pulled over. It took me about six hours and 450 miles to realize that I wasn't driving through a state full of speed traps, but was just unused to seeing American cars in my rear view mirror.
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