The Husband attended a seminar in South Carolina this week. I went along for the ride.
We usually avoid interstate highways but the map program said using them would cut two hours off of the drive, so we bit the bullet and took the interstates. The original plan was to drive halfway and stop somewhere for the night. We left home mid-morning and ended up driving for 8 or 9 hours without stopping except for bathroom breaks. By that time, we were only an hour from our eventual destination and considered driving on, but our hotel wouldn't give us a room a day early. We were hungry and our butts had had enough of the truck seat. We pulled off at the next exit that promised lodging and a margarita. I can't even tell you where we stopped. Didn't care at the time. Food was okay. Margaritas were pitiful.
We arrived at our eventual destination around noon Sunday. We stayed at a downtown hotel, with a "quaint" main street full of tourists and city-dwellers walking their dogs. There were a lot of restaurants nearby, all of which required a fairly long wait to get a table.
While The Husband was attending the seminar, I took the truck and did some sight-seeing on the outskirts of town. Nothing exciting to report there.
We started home fairly early yesterday (Thursday) morning. Having driven the interstates and gotten caught in major traffic jams, we decided to take the backroads home. Outside of Decatur, Alabama, we got stuck in yet another traffic jam. So much for the backroads, eh?
It was almost 9 p.m. when we rolled into our driveway last night. After nearly 12 hours in the truck, it sure was good to be home.
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