Day Twenty-nine - Durham to Bethlehem

Like the three wise guys, we traveled a long way to get to Bethlehem.  Experience told us that Interstate 95 through Richmond and Washington, DC, was a good way to be found by future archaeologists, mummified in one's car, waiting for traffic jams to break.  That route would take seven hours if those hazards were imaginary, but they're not.  An alternative was to take a somewhat different route, west of I-95 through the back roads of North Carolina and Virginia, before accessing the highways of West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania.  That route, according to Michelle, our GPS guide (from whom I am estranged, by the way) would take about an hour longer.  Small price to pay.

This is no straight line, but it made straight sense.

It was one of our smarter decisions.  The routes north through North Carolina and Virginia, west of I-95, are beautiful and pleasant to drive.  Whether we saved time or not, well worth the drive.

Wherever there are utility lines along the roadsides in North Carolina
and Virginia, the trees are trimmed to form a wall--and they're taller than
the ones we're used to.

Typical of the pleasant, mostly empty roads that take you northward at 55 miles
per hour instead of leaving you parked in a 65 mph zone on I-90.

We didn't plan an intermediate stop on this leg of our adventure.  But we did need some lunch, and I noticed a roadside sign on Route 81 in Maryland for The Tilted Kilt, Pub and Grill.  A burger and a beer are just what the old boy needed, so after navigating the mall parking lot, we found it.  It's a bit like Hooters, but a tad quieter, with nicer costumes (kilts 10-1/4" high--just a guess, honestly--and little tartan teacup brassiere tops, and I'd better stop here.)  The food was great, featuring Big Arse Burgers in several varieties.  Best of all, it's the only pub I've been in that has Dos Equis Amber on tap.

Some old guy going into The Tilted Kilt in Hagerstown, Maryland.  (Actually,
coming out--that's why the smile.)

 

Back on the road, the corn at several large farms is about two feet high.
Yesterday, in eastern Tennessee or Western North Carolina, we had seen
some four or five feet high, and the day before that in Arkansas, some
six feet high that was tassled.

 

Once we had left the charm of North Carolina and Virginia back roads, this
is the kind of scene we saw most.  If the amount of freight being shipped
coast to coast is an indicator of how healthy business is--and I believe that
it is--our country is in pretty good shape.

This license plate would appeal to our son Arthur, whose nickname (a gift
from his siblings) is Barf.

This is the umpty-umpth oversize load we passed on this adventure.  We
have no idea what this object is, but the truck is covered with radiation tags.

OK, this is our last night on the road.  With luck, we'll arrive home tomorrow afternoon and complete this adventure.  What better way to spend our last night on the road than wasting cash in our fourth Casino:

We had been to the Sands in Bethlehem once before, but it has improved,
and we came away not nearly as poor as we might have expected.

This has been a wonderful trip.  Most of that is due to the Job-like patience of my bride and companion, and the fact that she brought her iPad to earn three stars at Mahjong whenever the scenery or I, or both, became too boring.

Tomorrow, home.  Wow.  From our perspective, going home is an adventure.