A motel to avoid, if possible

The mint lemonade was one of my best ideas, ever. Wylie will agree. Ten minutes before I left I realized I had no pictures of Gainesville so I took this of Wylie sweeping his porch. Actually I thought it was a picture but it was a video, because I can't quite work the camera.



I ended my stay in Gainesville with a plate of huevos asheros from my favorite good-timey old family restaurant, The Top. But I didn't get on the road until 4 or so, and then I took some amazing backcountry roads instead of 75 (which might actually be worse than 95, only for the constant "DISNEY WORLD COUPONS...FREE OJ!!!" billboards. This is all to say that it got dark really quickly and I wasn't close to Macon, GA, my next planned stop.

But here is a beautiful road going through an idyllic small town.



The AAA camp book said there was a good camping site in Anderson, GA, near a Civil War memorial, but to get there, I'd have to take some lonely farm roads in the dark. Now listen. I never got lost, never. I always knew where I was.

But it all took longer than I thought, and by the time I reached the CLOSED camp site, I was almost out of gas. Well, all right. I kept on, hoping for either gas or lodging. I found lodging first at the Budget Inn in Montezuma, GA.

I won't say how much I actually paid, because it shames me, but I can say how much the room should have cost: $8. The sheets had some impressive cigarette holes, there was tape around the bathtub. And the trashcan said "Holiday Inn." I'd love to know the story behind that.

Here is a picture of a secret door that was in the closet, and by closet, I mean a large recess in the wall sectioned off with a curtain on a rope.



And here is a picture of the kitchenette. I didn't use it, but its existence was the only reason I valued my room at $8 and not $3. It was greasy and the stovetop had saucers on the burners. Is that a southern thing?



I did not sleep well, but it wasn't because my sleeping bag was way too hot or because I was worried about being attacked. It was because the motel was 20 feet away from the train tracks and a train went by at least twice an hour, throughout the night. And also everytime I heard a car start up I was convinced someone was stealing my car. In hindsight that was a silly worry, because there was NO ONE AROUND FOR MILES AND MILES.

The next morning the motel manager shook my hand when I checked out. I didn't have the heart to tell him I fantasized about burning his establishment to the ground.