Route 17

THE FRUGAL TRAVELER suggests that if going on a trip from Winchester, Va, to Savannah skip the McDonalds-laden I-95 and take your time with the gastric-scenic Rte 17, which happens to go straight through my hometown of Tappahannock. For extra sight-seeing in my old stomping grounds, might I suggest the river where I had my first threesome, or Sunnyside, where the Makeout-King once reigned supreme?  To watch old people eat, be sure to hit Lowery's, and for the pizza of my youth...Roma's!

Or, of course, go off-road to my neighborhood of Kino:

THE HUTSONS: old-time farming family, had a girl a few years younger than me who was always trying to get me to make out with her. I, being a young man of taste and deeply involved with such things as Star Wars and wondering if I would ever reach 4 feet in height, was not interested. Was ugly anyways. Charlize Theron, wherever you are, hope you found a dude to make out with.

THE BURTONS: great, old-school hunting/fishing family who had about 20 kids, all much older than us. Learned how to shoot hoops on their outdoor court that had a rim that was twelve-feet high instead of the standard ten, which explains how I’m so comfortable telling girls my dick is 9 inches.

THE SWANNS: next door to us. Younger and seemingly much more, oh, ‘swinging” than my own folks. I can recall several times walking outside on a weekend morning and saying “Gee, Mr. Swann gets to sleep outside on the front lawn without a sleeping bag, Why can’t I?!??!”

THE BALDWINS: nice family, two kids younger than us. Took over the vacant lot next door and turned it into a garden. Spent many an hour singing along to the Grass Roots greatest hits 8-track with their oldest daughter while the mother made the exact same meal for the father: salt fish. To this day, I don’t even know what that is. Favorite memory: over there in the living room while the father was trying to watch a NASCAR race, and I wouldn’t shut my mouth to such an extent that he finally grabbed some duct tape and taped my mouth shut so he can listen to the tv. So I sat there, mouth taped shut for about two hours watching the race. The whole time wondering of course why he even needed to hear the tv; it was the same sound the whole time VVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Was an early lesson: some people would rather hear the sound of deafening, droning car engines than my voice. And if a kid comes over to your house, it’s okay to duct tape him up in whatever way it takes to make you happy.

THE BRENZOVICH’S: sucked.

THE ZAMBELLAS: had older, high school kids who were complete losers. And a 9000-lb Doberman whose sole purpose in life was to try to give me a heart attack whenever I’d hafta walk down to the store to get the evening paper. Thing would be waiting for me to cross into his property alongside the road. I’d start sprinting to get to the other end of the yard and he’d be running with me, separated by the ditch. He’d explode into a fury, spitting blood and sending the voice of hell down through my spine. “I’m just getting a newspaper for my dad!!” I’d holler at him, which would only infuriate him more. The second I crossed the property line into the next yard BAM! his body instantly would go limp and he’d have his “So, cicadas every 17 years, how bout that?” bored look on his face. Asshole.

THE SHACKLEFORDS: older lady, I think hers was the family that opened the original store next door.

THE COUNTRY STORE: was called Shackleford’s when we moved there. Was a kid’s wet dream; penny candy as far as the eye could see. Do kid’s have wet dreams? I never did, I was never that lucky. I had to work for everything I’ve gotten in this life. Also they had KISS and Elvis bubblegum cards. Then there was a big fire, and it changed hands and became known as “Greys.” Not much really changed, though the new owners for some reason had an obsession with the comic strip “Herman” and had them plastered everywhere, just like the Bible pages stuck everywhere in the dead priest’s room in The Omen. I guess like the priest trying to ward off the devil with the Bible, the owner was trying to ward off laughter by having such a lame comic strip around everywhere. Then eventually it became “Sunnyside.” I will hold my Sunnyside tales for later, though I will mention that after 9-11 the county tried to boycott the place cause a guy who “looked like a terrorist” was working there. Must be a nice moment at the terrorist meeting, right? Assignments being handed out, your buddies get the World trade Center, the Pentagon etc and you get Sunnyside Grocery in Kino, VA. Killing the infidels one “Kino Dog” at a time, I guess. “This sucks; I should’ve gone to tv repair school like Mom said.”

Or get outta the car and do a walking tour, since you're probably fat as fuck anyways.