Pulling out of Arkansas, the scenery started feeling like home. Windy roads with lots of tree cover and, finally, water!
The highway is getting more urban, with towns turning into small cities and big box stores replacing the quaint city squares. I am looking forward to todayís detour off of the highway onto some real back roads, but the routes across the Mississippi River are limited, so I will stick with highway 82 for a little longer.
The first difference in drivers that I notice is the use of turn signals. In Texas, most drivers will throw on a turn signal a half a mile before they turn. In Mississippi, people act like their driveway has changed locations yet again
or maybe they just reckon everybody know where they live anyways.
On the way I see a sign to Clarksdale, where ADV inmate dwg-Donnie calls home. I have talked with him for the last couple of months about my plans for a trip and he has been an invaluable source of information. He has several trip reports covering Mexico and Central America and I have poured over them for ideas. I would hand a left and stop by and see him, but he is south of the border having fun. I hope to catch up with him this winter and pick his brain.
Once I covered a few miles on the highway I swung south towards Philadelphia, where my wifeís son and family live. He coaches and has a home further south in Decatur, but on my last call he through that they would be at the family home by the time I got through there. It sounds stupid, but I have driven to their house a ton of times form Alabama and only once from Philadelphia proper (they live about 20 minutes outside Philadelphia) and I go turned around in Philadelphia and couldnít find the right highway out of there. I tried 6 of them and was actually on the right road early on, but didnít recognize it as it was getting dark.
So I stop and call and no answer, so I ride some more. Finally Brian calls me and they are in Decatur!
Guess I should have called last night, but this trip isnít exactly been about planning. So I head down to Decatur, about 45 minutes, and it is getting a little nippy by the time I arrive. I visit with Brian, Leeann and Brady (the oldest son), while Eli (the youngest son) finally wrestles a loose tooth in his mouth into submission
. Both of the boys are avid hunters and we watched Dale Earnhart kill a few deer on the tube while we shot the bull.
I donít want to keep the boys up too late, so I head to Newton for some Mexican food and a motel.