There were three things going for me as I traveled about. I was living out of a Tear Drop trailer (intriguingly cute), I had corgi companionship (super cute) and I am an outdoor rugged painter (OK, not so cute). Having these three observable traits opened a path to engagement with so many awesome people of all ages, races, political (and musical) persuasions: an off the grid, nose to nose experience.
I traveled along side a Grey Wolf, Arctic Fox, American Eagle and a Big Horn (names of RVs) and camped next to a Burro (tiny travel trailer from Maine). I gassed up at WAWA's and dined on WaHo. Some of my nights were comically, illuminated by green facsimile fireflies swirling in, on and around my trailer by a neighbor's motion pattern LED laser light show. In Carolinas, I was passed by a tractor trailer rig with the company name of TRIBE Transportation. The only trucking company owned by an Native American woman. Her name is Joy Cain Handte and she is of Cherokee descent. Her great grandmother survived the forced removal migration known as the Trail Of Tears of 1830's.
While in the Virginia Beach area, I visited the Mackay National Wildlife Refuge. A lovely blue sky day, tripping past Confederate flags, trailer parks and wildlife refuge signs rendered unreadable by buckshot. Along the highway, I spied in the distance a gigantic, white marble statue in a expansive farm field. I made a U-turn to investigate.
I played old time fiddle at a jamming' session at Jekyll Island campground. Once a week on a Thursday evening, the winter residents gather together in a circle to play, sing, tell stories and just have a good time. I was invited to join them. When I expressed my shyness and explained I never played in front of an audience, Brian told me the story of a fellow who joined the group one evening and just held his instrument in his lap. OK. I'll be there... when my turn came I played... in front of 60 people... and they clapped... In that evening's jammin' circle there were two accordions, a banjo, lots of guitars, percussion, tambourines and the first fiddler (me) the group ever had. I was enthralled and empowered.
At the beginning of my trip. I stopped at a rest area on the New Jersey Turnpike and was walking to the building when I heard a voice repeating, "oh Miss, Oh Miss" from behind. A black gentleman had rolled down his car window and motioned me to him. I approached. I observed the interior of his car looked like Fibber McGee's closet. He said, "You know your trailer tag is hanging by one bolt?" "Really?" I told him my son-in-law had attached an artsy designed frame around my trailer tag (Christmas gift from my friend Terry) I'm guessing not tight enough. So he reached into his back seat and handed me an electrical tie and then on second thought he gave me two just in case the other bolt falls away. I said, "God Bless you!" I thought of that kind man at the close of my trip when I looked around the interior of my car and thought... another Fibber McGee's closet. Safe travels, my friend/s.