There was no need to set google maps to avoid highways. The most direct route was on winding roads. We passed through a lot of small towns with one memorable stop. I was low on groceries, so I picked up supplies at a small IGA. Careful not to get parked in, I sprawled across several spots in the back of the parking lot.
When I came back with the groceries, I could see that a dilapidated pickup truck was parked in front of my truck. A semi truck was behind my Scamp, leaving no way to get out. Callie was barking furiously at two mountain men inspecting my Brew Hut.
“Nice camper,” the old, fat one drawled, as I came up.
“It’s an old one,” the skinny one without many teeth said.
I made small talk about Scamps, where they are made, how old mine was, and the benefits of fiberglass campers.
“Can we see inside?”
“It’s got everything you need,” the skinny one said. “Have a good trip.”
After a long drive, I’m camped at Roan Mountain State Park, tucked in against a bubbling creek.
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