They say that Virginia is for lovers, but I say Virginia is for suicidal people, besides I never saw one French Poodle in the entire state. Those winding mountain roads all seem to drop down from crazy heights like a rock with a curved bridge at the bottom that is not so wide, no, no, not so wide at all. I kept my eyes closed the whole time he was driving, I think he did too because he kept screaming about morons who design roads like this. What the heck did he expect driving a 14 ton vehicle, it would handle like a Ferrari?
Anyway, at least one place we stayed knew how to treat someone as important as I am. They even put out a welcome sign for me, trying to get on my good side no doubt.
I was ever so glad to get to North Carolina and flat ground again so that if he drifted off the road I might survive. The rain stopped in the morning so I was able to go and poop in peace, but you think that was the end of it, think again. Instead of staying in North Carolina where there are bathrooms aplenty for me, he drives into South Carolina. He is so lame.
Now my eyes were clouding and turning yellow, I really had to go. So he pulls over after I complained and guess what? They had more signs in this place that were totally pet unfriendly. No pets, here, no pets there, until finally he finds a place I can go and it is between the noisy trucks and the more noisy highway. You ever tried to have a relaxing poop when trucks are whizzing by and making so much noise? You think its easy being me. I'll give him this, South Carolina is where it began to get really warm We drove with the windows open like it was summer and I was low riding looking for a foxy English Sheepdog.
No luck on that though, but now came the tricky part. We drove into Hilton Head Island and they have no signs, none, zero, nada, no puppy no. You have to guess where everything is. Even McDonald's is not allowed to have those golden arches, plus everything is hidden behind trees so forget about me finding a Pet Smart store to get some good exotic biscuits. Somehow he found a store that sold stuff he said we needed and cut off more cars to make a last second turn into a driveway. A last second turn into a driveway in this motor home is like a last minute turn on an air craft carrier. You might make it, but it won't be pretty. The “we” of stuff we need was not exactly true either. He came back with all kinds of stuff, none of it was for me..."we"...sure won't fall for that one again.
So anyway back out onto the road and something called rush hour. Before long his little annoying GPS machine is screaming we have to make a U-Turn and he is in the wrong lane. Guess he figured that we were bigger than everyone cause he just cut across two lanes of cars who were so happy with him they leaned on the horns a lot. I suppose that is like cheering, but I didn't understand all the hand signals they made. You know, the ones with one finger extended. I winked at them from my window just to be polite.