Road Trip: Riding Those Blue Skies Away
It’s Memorial Day.
Thanks to all those soldiers out there. 🇺🇸👍 I really appreciate it.
But that’s not the story I’m telling—at least not this morning.
I’ve been checking the weather and staring out the window for hours, trying to decide what to do. It looks like it could rain at any moment. I’ve been scrolling nonsense on my phone way too long.
Good lord, Stu—it’s a holiday. Go do something! Anything.
I grab the keys and set the cruise to 66.
And just like that, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. I smile and roll down the windows.
First stop
About thirty minutes in, construction kicks me off the beaten path.
I cross this old steel bridge—and I can’t believe what I see.
(👆Only in the South. Truck parked in the river, tunes blaring, rod in hand. I’m in love.)
A truck. In the middle of the river. Literally parked in the middle.
And not just a truck—there’s a pretty girl in a bathing suit. She’s got a boom box blaring, a cooler at her feet, and a fishing rod in her hand.
You can’t make this shit up.
That’s the coolest thing I’ve seen in a while. I’m in love. I smile, snap a picture, and wave.
(If you zoom in on the picture she’s not next to the truck, look to the right. 😁)
Second stop
I hit the Georgia state line and stop again at the Chatooga River, right at that popular welcome center on the South Carolina side.
This is the home of the infamous Bull Sluice—a Class IV+ rapid.
(👆The water was higher. The current stronger. And somehow we all made it home safe.)
Almost twenty years ago, me and three friends went down that waterfall. It was wild.
The water back then was so much higher than today—maybe three or four feet more. I remember it being a mix of fun, fear, and full-body exhaustion.
I love river tubing, but never again here. This river doesn’t play.
Back then, my girlfriend Amy got tossed and had to be rescued by some bystanders. God bless those folks—they’re known to hang out at that rapid just to help out when things go south.
And things did go south.
After she was rescued, we couldn’t land the boat. The current was too strong. Amy had to cross the river to get back, but it swept her downstream and stranded her on a tiny rock—just big enough for her two feet.
She was crying, scared, exhausted. I couldn’t go get her—the current would’ve taken me down too. Somehow, we convinced her to just go for it. And she did. And luckily—somehow—we scooped her up as she went flying by.
It was wild.
Everyone made it home safe. But that was the last time I ran Bull Sluice.
Today, the river looks much calmer. A few kayakers flip over and roll back up with ease. But don’t be fooled—this river has a temper.
I drive
I keep driving. The sky’s mostly gray, but the ride is perfect. Wind in my face, hands on ten and two. That feeling of freedom.
I remember back in the ’80s and ’90s, this is what we did.
No plans. No hotel. Just gas and the open road.
No hurries, no worries.
Where did that little boy go?
How’d he get so lost?
Then again… maybe he’s not lost. Not today.
Right now, I’m on a two-lane road somewhere in Georgia. GPS off. Music on. And I’m smiling.
Third stop
I pull into the Universal Joint in Clayton for a beer. Sweet spot! It’s my go-to.
If you’re in the area, check it out.
I chat with a fun, friendly guy named Bruce who lives nearby.
As I head back to the car, the sky opens up. I run, laughing, but honestly? I don’t even care.
The back roads take me through Sarah’s Creek, to Walhalla, to Seneca, then Clemson—and finally to my sister’s in Pendleton.
I end the day eating Mexican with my sweet sister Sara. (Sara—we forgot the picture.)
It was a good day.
