GAYS MILLS - I was pleasantly surprised last week to get a letter from our old friends the Tuttles, Tim and Tillie, from Tomahawk, Wisconsin. We call them the Traveling Tuttles because they always seem to be on a trip of some sort. They indicated that I could share their letter with you.
Well, we’re on our fall trip and all is going well. We stopped at a little place in lower Indiana called Moot Point. It’s a small town without much to recommend it, although it is located on a point-like prominence jutting into a charming little body of water called Venous Lake.
We spent one night in Tennessee horse country. Found an affordable motel (no mints on the pillow there, bring your own!) on Horse Shoe Road on the outskirts of town. We recommend the Horse Shoe Road Inn if you ever get down this way.
There was a mom and pop café next to the motel. It was called the North Star Café, but the sign proclaimed: No. Star Café. Trying to set a low bar, I suppose, so they can exceed expectations. Tim and I split a humongous Nothingburger, their specialty. The name comes from the fact that they don’t leave anything off of it. It was all the two of us could do to finish such a thing. The place deserves at least one star on portion size alone.
I’ve been taking a language class at night school and brought along some tapes to play as we travel along. The class is Beginning Finnish and my sentences are starting to lilt a bit.
We didn’t make very good time yesterday. We stopped at a convenience store about 10 o’clock for snacks and when we got back in the car we noticed we were parked right in front of a sign that said ‘one Hour Parking.’ We hadn’t planned on staying that long, but we did.
People here are real friendly. I was in a grocery store picking up a few items. A woman came up and asked me if she could borrow my shopping list; she had forgotten hers at home.
We had a flat tire in the mountains! Those don’t seem to happen much anymore do they? We called for help and the tow truck wanted to know where we were. I told him, “At Donut Pass on Route 12.” He didn’t seem to know where that was, but we talked some more and he showed up a few minutes later, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He explained that the sign we were parked near read: Do Not Pass. Glad we don’t live around here. The locals will be telling that story for weeks.
We stopped at a large park-like wayside one fine day for a picnic. We were all set to enjoy a nice lunch, when a man walked his dog quite near us. Then another dog and its owner showed up. Turned out we were smack dab in the middle of the Pet Exercise area.
Anyway, it’s nice to come south this time of year. It shortens the winter up a bit. See you when we get back.