Fall Creek Falls - Day Five

Saturday, October 20, 2012 - Homeward Bound

I woke up at 7 a.m., ready to go home.  We'd packed away the food, the dishes, and the cookware before bed last night.  I started the coffee perking while we yanked the linens off the bed and hauled the suitcases and coolers to the truck.  We drank a cup of coffee, then battened down the camper hatches before going to the inn for the breakfast buffet.

A little after 10 a.m., we hitched up the camper and pulled out.  Our plan was to go home a different way than we'd come, so we used the back exit to leave the park.  A few miles later, the road grew curvy and steep.  The camper brakes clicked and groaned, the truck down-shifted and roared as we eased around u-shaped curves.  It took us about an hour to get to flatter, straighter pavement, and when we did, we realized that we were actually on the same road we'd used to get there (the name of the "Bent Beetle" car lot gave it away, as we both remembered having seen it on the way in).

We drove through Murfreesboro and Franklin.  At Franklin, we pulled the camper straight through the middle of the old downtown section, where yuppies were drinking expensive coffee at tables outside hip cafes and strolling their babies down tree-lined sidewalks.  We waved and drove on.  We got on the interstate west of Franklin - enough of these backroads!  It was almost 6 p.m. by the time we backed the camper into our driveway.

Cousin Stephen next door was having a birthday party for himself.  Cousin Stephen is a drummer.  He'd hauled his drum set out in the yard and was testing them out.  His buddies were standing by with their electric guitars.  Together, they comprise a heavy metal band.  Clearly, they were planning to serenade the neighborhood.  Once we'd unloaded the truck, I stepped out in the yard and hollered, "Stephen?"  One of the buddies yelled back that Stephen had gone inside the house for a minute.  I hollered, "Tell him Cousin Joel said he'd bring his banjo over if y'all need him."  We heard muted laughter, but they said they'd tell him, for sure.

A minute later, Stephen came out and gave the drums a good pounding.  One of the other boys played a warm-up riff on his electric guitar.  Suddenly, from across the road, we heard Stephen's Uncle Roger yell from the front porch of his trailer, "Stephen, y'all cut that sh*t out!  Don't nobody want to hear that #*@(! racket!  I'm trying to watch a ballgame over here and can't even hear the #(@)! TV!"  Stephen gave his drum set another pounding in response. 

Joel and I chuckled and went in the house.  We were hungry, and decided we'd go out to eat instead of trying to scare up something to cook at home.  When we came back out to get in the truck, there were two po-lice cars parked in Stephen's yard, blue lights just a-flashin'.  Apparently, Uncle Roger meant business.

When we returned home, Cousin Stephen and the boys had moved the concert inside the house;  the neighborhood was relatively quiet.  I put on my favorite old nightgown and went to bed with a book, not one bit bothered by the soft thumping coming from next door.  I hadn't reached the end of the first page when I conked out.

It's good to be home!