October 5, 2022

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 5, 2021, 18 fillings.
Five years ago today: October 5, 2017, a 2-step process.
Nine years ago today: October 5, 2013, that Motel 6 database.
Random years ago today: October 5, 2005, some ideals cost money.

           Ha, the van radio on the way to Red Boiling Springs said Biden made an ass of himself again by saying the Florida hurricane ends all arguments against client change. He’s grandstanding by trying to fake concern for victims, while Kamela says Whites can get to the back of the line. What’s this with Red Boiling Springs? You can find in on the map, I think. The Reb can’t shake that seasonal cold, so a day off as me and the boys head into the Tennessee wilds. If you see a nice photo of downtown abandoned buildings, then I got the snapshot feature working on this ancient computer.

           We headed east at mid-morning, taking the scenic route mostly along Highway 70, I believe that’s what Lebanon Pike turns into. The A/C off, windows open, this was motorcycle weather, my friend. We stopped regularly along the way but Sam, the small white doggie, knows how to find the memory foam. Something about dogs and memory foam in that van, I think it’s instinct. They won’t walk five minutes without tugging the leash to get back inside.

           It was the trip that was most fun. We did not see a anything red or boiling, but once again the GPS took us up mountain trails that by most standards would be rate dangerous. Two gravelly ruts for the tires and 400 foot drops down the side. What guard rail? It was, to GPS think, the shortest route, but my guess is those who specify that parameter also want it to be (barring traffic), the quickest route. Not through Turkey Hollow. The average speed on this backwoods trail average less than 10 mph. I have no footage of the worst stretches as I dared not stop nor take my hands off the wheel. Around noon, we emerged on some highway bypass. This took us within 7 miles of Red Boiling Springs, where a sign said there was a library. Was means maybe ten years back.

           We toured the town by van, checking a couple mountain roads that went nowhere. The entire area is like a picture book portrayal of little farms and rolling hills. We passed several small town with architecture dating maybe 1920s. Impressively solid old brick houses and office, unaffordable today. Many were abandoned. This is true backwoods country, deep in the foothills.

           The roads were single lane, often by necessity. There was simply no wide enough spaces. The lack of any directions once you get off the single street sign at the entrance. GPS for once was a must. One clue you are lost otherwise is when the mailboxes disappear. And the amount of wildlife as in any clearing. Birds as well, we surprised an unusually large group (what’s the quantifier? I’m so lazy, I’d rather type the question than deal with the Google AOLs.) I’m informed it is a rafter of turkeys. No photo, again for the same reason. These roads must be suicide in the winter.

Picture of the day.
PPP
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           Here’s your quick tour of Main Street, Red Boiling Springs, Tennessee. Pay attention, it may be the only time you get to see the place. Don’t want you to miss out or anything. The town has a lot of parks but if there are any springs nearby, there’s little evidence. A mean, anything touristy would help that town out. There is little flat land so maybe the winding roads make the place a lot bigger than what I saw. Kiddie parks, I mean, with swings and the modern “safe” versions of merry-go-rounds and jungle bars. That sort of crap because kids these days are all wimps except where noted.

           On the return leg, we arrived at a highway intersection that looked like the road petered out. GPS said it was a numbered route, so after this morning, we took a chance. These are real trails, I leave it as an exercise for you time find them if you doubt. They go for miles through those steep hills that used to be mountains. It was another trip through the wilds and an unusual siting. A black deer with white near the neck and rump. We were 300 yards away and spooked it, but it was an adult with no antlers.

           The trip home was uneventful, I followed my old motorcycle habit of a high speed dash back. This time on I-40, stopping at Wal*mart for groceries, and the computer parts that enabled what you see here. Not every computer can handle this blog, and that crappy Google thing I bought last week is going to be gifted somewhere. No word processory, but of course, what was I thinking. Why would a millennial consider being able to write be of any importance to their offspring? As long as you can sell your votes, why bother?