Like a box of chocolates

Savannah, GA – You never know what you’re going to get when you set out on a road trip, but most of the time, it’s pretty interesting stuff! Today I got to sit next to Forrest Gump on a Georgia park bench with a beautiful backdrop of a southern city square – courtesy of the Georgia State Welcome Center. It was clear he had many seat partners throughout the day, as at least two other groups swooped in right behind me for their photo op! I didn’t manage to figure out how to open that beribboned box of chocolates during my sitting.

Our route was very straightforward today, due south on the I-95 all the way from Fayetteville to Savannah. We shared the road with lots of traffic, which is understandable as the March break beckons winter-worn people to the warm places – but, surprisingly, there was quite a bit of traffic heading north as well.

By the time we stepped outside to have lunch, the temperature had already hit 73F, and it climbed another ten degrees before day’s end, to Val’s delight. I must say it was nice to feel the humidity in the air after spending the winter in a forced-air, dry environment at home.

As we drove southward through North Carolina, we came to a series of roadside signs heralding Pedro’s South of the Border. They had cornball messages like the one, illustrated by an enormous hot dog, that said “You never SAUSAGE a place! You’re a WIENER at South of the Border!” Soon enough, just over the South Carolina state line, we glimpsed an enormous sombrero atop a giant tower visible for miles, and there it was. Ole.

As we were boarding our RV after the Forrest Gump encounter, a woman came over saying “’Scuse me, scuse me!” Carol and her husband Robin were dying to see our RV and ask what we thought of it. We gave them a tour and had a lovely chat. They came from Selma NC,  had recently retired and wanted to do more traveling. Just one of the neat things that happen when you hit the road.

The highlight of our day was a visit to historic downtown Savannah, where we drove after dropping our luggage off at our hotel. Our destination was West Jones Street where there’s a house built in 1851 by my great-great grandfather, John Nevitt. His grandson, Richard Barrington Nevitt, was bundled off with his younger sister and brother at age 14 to Canada to escape the Civil War. RBN married my grandmother’s mother and the rest, as they say, is history. The house is privately owned, so we could only look at the outside, but it was wonderful to see a place where some of my family roots began.