On our first full day at Grandma and Grandpa's, Jed was going a bit bonkers by the afternoon so I suggested a car ride. It had been a long time since I'd driven out in the country, and Jed rarely sees a truly open space, so we set out on a two-hour tour.
At one point, I followed a tractor for about 6 minutes before I found a place I felt safe passing. Six minutes! Weak salsa, Sarah! What had downtown living and driving done to me??
But soon I had my country driving wheels under me again and I thoroughly enjoyed a fast-paced slalom on N.C. 89, north of
Danbury. Second to N.C. Highway/VA State Route 8 between
Danbury and
Christiansburg, VA, N.C. 89 is one of the best curvy roads I've driven, without actually going to the "real" mountains. So far as I know, Jed did not suffer whiplash, and I did manage to snap some pictures in between
straighenin' the curves and
flattenin' the hills.
trailers surrounded by the Sauratown Mountains
and that dust, that's from a four-wheeler
Hanging Rock, straight ahead
Cook's Wall
smoke 'em if you got 'em
Hanging Rock
on the way back down, however, this guy
and his three bovine companions harshed my buzz
And what did Jed think of all this?
Well, not much.
Less than 5 minutes in to our trip, he was sound asleep. When we pulled in Grandma and Grandpa's driveway, he woke up in confusion and said
"Where we been?"
breakfast out back the next morning
And we're off to the children's museum in downtown Winston-Salem.
Jed had a great time in the "grocery store," where he
loaded up on fruits and vegetables.
assisted by his bevvy of beauties, Jed learns the ropes at the cash register
ringing up Grandma's purchases
To get Jed to leave, I had to play my trump card and tell him we could have lunch at a caboose. No kidding.
The Red Caboose was one of my favorite childhood restaurants, and I can tell you that almost nothing about it has changed in 30 years. They've added the awing across the front so it looks a little less like a caboose from the front, and they've painted the exterior of the boxcar dining room, which was still its original boxcar brown when I was a kid . . .
. . . but inside, I don't think one single thing differed.
And the hot dogs still rocked. I rarely eat hot dogs, so I'm no connoisseur, but I think they serve the best dog in Winston-Salem and, arguably, one of the best in North Carolina.
So what makes it, you ask?
In my opinion, it's the bun. It's just a cheap
ol' plain white bun, but they toast it on the griddle. With butter. Plenty of butter. Yes, folks, the hot dog needs a little extra fat to really make it sing.
Later that afternoon, we struck out for the river, specifically, the Dan River at
Moratock Park in
Danbury. Most of my memorable time at or in the Dan was downstream in Madison with my grandpa, but I visited
Moratock Park plenty of times, and I was very excited about Jed's baptism in the Nile of Stokes.
On the way, he fell asleep and Grandpa and I debated driving around longer, but I'd been hyping the river for days, so I woke him up.
He started out pretty groggy . . .
but my gaul-darn-rock-thrower quickly figured out the primary joy of the river . . .
(Betsy, did I spell gaul-darn right?)
. . . and we spent nearly 2 hours trying to get all the rocks from the beach back in the river.
Surprisingly, my city boy voluntarily and eagerly dipped his toes in,
but not surprisingly, he changed his mind in short order.
Grandpa in the wilderness. A rare sight, indeed.
And on our last morning, we paid a final visit to Grandma and Grandpa's park where we saw a lizard, small water snake, and minnows in the park's creek.
Thanks for a great visit!
