Hey! Nice day, yeah? We class B RVs are keen on blue skies and crisp fall air. We put on airs. Except Sprinter Vans, they’ve got airs built in so they can’t put them on or take them off. Mercedes. Oooh la la.
I’m a blue collar Ford, except I have an Ecoboost 350 engine and all wheel drive. Right now I’m at Vanture Customs (https://vanturecustoms.com/) getting an up-do – some tweaks and some bling, sorta like getting some Botox and filler and having nails done. Classic Cherry Red.
So you wonder how I got here to the East Coast? The gang of two (Paula and Scott) took me from San Antonio to the Atchafalaya to Kosciusko (Mississippi) to Marietta, Tybee Island, Southport, Kure Island, Buckanan (Virginia), Bethesda, Thurmont, and finally here. Basically Philadelphia. 2600 miles so far this trip. A few more to go.
A couple of weeks ago I took my first ferry ride, from Southport across the Intracoastal Waterway to Kure Island. A thunderstorm chased us, but it was a frisky, playful thunderhead that just wanted to say hello. I could hardly understand the accent. I was surprised, sine I’ve pretty much mastered the Texas twang, but yanks like me sometimes just nod and pretend they know what a Carolinian is explaining.
Here is the poem of the day. Percy Bysshe Shelley. Funny thing – I hear so many people these days reciting some of this. The whole is greater than the sum of the parts.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Scott D. McLean, MD 