Angie and I went for a hike that turned into more of a drive than a hike. We hiked a bit. We drove much more. The Honda hasn't been out for a romp like this in a year. It was time. After we got back, the fingerprints of black fuel residue on the back of the car reminded me that the car needs to go. And the car goes. It can handle the mountain roads better than the motorcycles it seems. It was fun, but it seems more dangerous than the airplane. I am not complacent on either one. I fret about safety. From the top of the highest mountain in Georgia I took the picture of Blairsville Airport. I have flown in there previously. Instinctual, I knew where it was.

I got the chance to visit the overlook at Tallulah Gorge. The last time I was there was 35 years ago. I stopped there when I rode my motorcycle from Ohio to Florida when I was in School in Columbus Ohio. It took me three days, rain, camping out, experience building and all that. I said I would be back, and guess what? I got back. It is the same place. The gorge is still deep. It was great to regenerate the memory. The hot dog (with cole slaw) tasted just as good as it did 35 years ago, actually better. I didn't care what it cost this time.


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