Given this is a trip through the South and I live in the suburbs, I'm getting a bit of blow back from neighbors and friends about trip safety. Scratch the surface and perhaps behind the hand-wringing is the age-old fear of the dreaded "Deliverance"-type experience ("Hey Bubba, that one's got a pretty mouth..."). Other than hounding Richard to get the brakes checked out before the Blue Ridge mountains, I'm whistling Dixie and not too worried.
My teammates courageously refuse to fly under the gay-dar. Richard is working to get the Vegginator decked out with window decals that broadcast the purpose of our trip, and Pam is busy designing the official Vegginator tee shirt (hand lettered and signed, only $350 on Ebay, proceeds go to the EJS College Fund). The bumper sticker on the back is in synch with nativist attitudes so shouldn't get us into trouble (This car powered by foreign oil, with the "foreign" crossed out and replaced with "vegetable.") A bit more dicey is the yellow ribbon magnet decal on the trunk ("Support our Vacuous Slogans"). Oy. Might want to stick that one in the back pocket before pulling into the Dixie Truck Stop.
Fight the fear and may the Greasers turn our red and blue country purple. Meanwhile, time to shop for some of that bullet resistant lace-up underwear...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Adam forgets that I did my time in the real south, volunteer fire department, rednecks, feral pigs and all. As in the late night phone call- "Tucker Deeter's house is on fire!!" Good thing Bumper Thompson was a volunteer, so he could help put it out.
These names are real, and I ain't worried.
OK, if we have to trot out our southern bona fides, I grew up in Hill Country Village, TX, where the law was Marshall Majors and his paint truck, and our back yard host ed big old snakes, armadillos, road runners, wild peacocks, scorpions and tarantulas (warning - they always travel in pairs). Good thing Pam isn't going with us -- when in Austin she'd give Jersey hand signals to the bad drivers, even the ones with gun racks in the pickups...
Austin doesn't count, but let's not air greasy laundry in public.
I have absolutely no claim on having spent time in the South (unless stopping to pick up a bag of Biff Burgers on the way to Florida from Ohio counts.)
I try to relate but the only thing that comes to mind is a a line from a song I remember hearing sung (by Jonathan Edwards I believe) that went something like "I want to live with my feet in Dixie and my head in the cool, cool North."
I can relate to the cool cool North part, but when I imagine my feet in Dixie all that comes up is an image of fire ants biting my feet.
Post a Comment