Closing the flight plan ~

The A/Bus landed back at Greystone at 2200 tonite, 7days7hours and 1,530 miles after leaving. Landing sites included Kingsport TN (twice), Knoxville (twice), Brentwood/Nashville, and DC. Other than the occasional leak from the rear a/c in heavy rain, it turned in a squawk-free performance in conditions ranging from 70F down to 12F and plowed sun, rain, and 35-40mph headwinds and crosswinds on the outbound leg. Even the dolly and magnetic tow'd lights worked throughout.

This was the first trip towing our Chevy Venture van as a tow'd and the only time you could tell any difference compared to the sprightly but now-departed 'Rolla was on the long downhills, where the extra 1500lbs could be felt. The dolly's hold-down straps kept jumping off its front tyres and need to be adjusted, but otherwise the A/Bus just hauled it along. I used an extra-heavy dosage of DieselKleen winter formula on this trip and was rewarded with 10+ MPG overall even with headwinds, mountains,and the heavier tow'd.

The only blemish on the trip was the 40+mph tailwind gust that snatched the entry door outta my hand at Dr Brado's and re-bent the entry-door restraining bracket when the door was slammed wide open by the lusty zephyrs. That goes on the Red Bay list for the next factory visit (along with a new a/c roof gasket).

It squeaks, rattles and wanders in the wind, but the venerable A/Bus has now passed 68k and is running like a grandfather clock. A guy at the Flying J this afternoon stood there and regarded it while fueling his Ford pickup dualie. "Nice," he finally said to me. "Very nice."

After leaving Brentwood, we stopped in Knoxville to drop off Rew & Corelyn at her dad and stepmom's house for another visit. Cameron Coates was smoking some chicken BBQ and he didn't have to twist MY arm to get us to stay for dinner, which was really, REALLY good. We also got to see Corelyn's sibs for the first time since the wedding and have some nice extended-family time. I presented the Coates clan with the home-made pecan pie I'd picked up from Dotson's Restaurant earlier that day and it was a large hit.

M&I rolled on to Kingsport where we spent the nite in the same WalMart parking lot where the RewCor and I had braved the 12F temps the week before. Saturday morn we rolled on 35 miles to lovely Abingdon, VA, home of Virginia's famous Barter Theatre and the gorgeous old Martha Washington Inn. We tried to have breakfast there but had just missed it, so we walked on down the street to the LJ Cafe where the proprietress had been holding forth for over 30 years. Our tab was about 60% of what each of the hotel breakfasts would have cost.

From there we walked about two miles of the Virginia Creeper Trail, an old railroad bed now a hiker/biker trail of amazing beauty. The temps were pushing 70F and a warm southern wind was blowing; many joggers and bikers had turned out to enjoy it.

Back to the town, M took up a position on the commodious old-timey front porch of the Inn while I held down the A/Bus and we waited for the RewCor to rejoin us in the van. Once they arrived we showed them around, loaded up the van, and headed for DC.

Along the way we stopped in Radford VA and after a 'Net search supplemented by GPS, found the cemetary where M's maternal grandparents and Rew's great-grandparent Ranson namesake kinfolk (Andrew Ranson Allen, after all) are interred. The last and only time we'd visited before was with the late Nancy Love probably 20+ years ago. This time I got the GPS co-ordinates of the gravesites loaded into my Garmin.

With our roots thus reestablished, we had some Hardees Thickburgers and rolled on to Alexandria where at about midnite we dropped off Rew and Corelyn with some kind friends who were not only willing to put them up, but to drive them to DCA at 0400 for their 0600 flight to ATL and on to LAX today. M&I retreated to Pohick Bay Regional Park, where at 0100 we snared Site 150, where oft betimes the humble Viking pop-up was pitched for family camping/boating/horsey outtings back in The Day. It was so warm I fired up the rooftop a/c's and with their sonorous throbbing we slept like newborns.

We luxuriated in sleeping in this morn, and then headed downtown after leaving the A/Bus parked at a shopping center to see Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night," which we were to see next Saturday but this saved us a trip. Afterwards we went to La Porta, one of our old restaurant haunts in Alexandria, for dinner.

A "light jazz" trio was performing and soon I noted to my surprise that the guitarist was playing what appeared to be a four-string tenor guitar, as favored by Nick Reynolds of the Kingston Trio, something one rarely sees otehrwise. Like brother Dwight, I'd taught myself to play guitar on one in the early '60s, D's old black-n-gold Stella which I later loaned to my buddy next door and never got back. [D by then had moved on to his Martin tenor guitar, but was still miffed that I let the old Stella slip away.]

As we were leaving, I chatted up the band and esp'ly the guitarist re the tenor guitar. Squinting at the headstock to make out the brand name and noting the black and gold hue of the body, I could scarcely believe my eyes.

"Is that a Stella??" I asked incredulously as the lettering swam into focus. "Sure is," he said. "Great little guitar." It looked just like the Stella of my youth, albeit with a pick guard and slightly higher-toned embellishments.

I pondered the likelihood of encountering this memento of Days Past as we drove home. The restaurant we'd planned to go to was closed and this was our fallback. The group began to play maybe ten minutes before we left. How many jazz groups use tenor guitars? (Maybe many, for all I know.) And of those, how many are Stellas, a brand I'd never seen another example of after my brother's?

Ahhh well, interesting ponderings as the A/Bus rumbled down the highway, finishing out its assigned duties and closing the books on a wonderful Christmas trip.