The radio became my friend during the days as I’d completed
all my book tapes far earlier than expected. I liked the idea of being local
hearing what is jiving in this neck of the woods. Preachers, the more the
merrier, man they were alive for God, or at least to sell you a book, CD,
encourage you to rush to the nearest church. Not a woman voice in 2 weeks hit
the airway on country stations, on biblical waves, and politically they stood
behind or to the right side of their husbands.
Rain prevailed as Cyndi’s voice said, “Feel free to turn
around and come back if the winds, tornados get too strong for you to drive through,
there common here.”
What a comforting thought as I left their happy nest with the
camera in the passenger seat ready to use. Sudden gusts would shift the car
into the next lane as locals glared at my inability to control the beast. Double
wipers were useless in the deluge as my speed diminished to a crawl while others
were whipping by me. All of a sudden the car lifted like hydrofoil ships, the
difference being they were in control, I was not. Seconds past then the tires
gripped the road spitting me further into the next lane. Honking supervened and
that recess voice that my tires needed to be changed slapped me in the face.
The news didn’t assist my nerves any, they spoke of Hurricane
winds coming off the Atlantic all day and staying off the road was recommended.
Hovering behind semi might have shielded the wind, yet their cargo swayed
uncontrollably. Two lanes chocked full of semi’s was formidable for the savviest
drivers. Others dashed by semis while I fretfully waited to feel safe, which
was a rarity today, then I would pull out in hopes that their spray, power, and
gusts wouldn’t house me in the median.
Franklin couldn’t have come soon enough. Rain subsided just
long enough for me to meet the only Tennessean not attending church.
“Man every day there is another pamphlet in my mail box
asking me to join and INEVITABLY, give some of my hard earned money to the
church. Oh, and by the way, you overshot your friend’s house by 5 miles. I’ll
get you there the back way.”
Franklin proper was a one street town with a 5 point
intersection, homes of real people existed far from town, how silly of me to
have thought they lived within a community. They do along with everyone else,
on ranch like developments. Homes exist about a mile off the main road each
little sector housing 20 homes with large backyards. As I pulled up to Wayne’s
large 4800 sq/f brick home I was looking for horses in the back 40 that he
called his backyard.
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