Sunday drivers

This has been a most lovely day. 

I was up at 5:30 and in the hotel's Lakefront Restaurant at 6:30 when it opened.  Sat by a window overlooking the lake (hence the name) and watched detail surrounding the hotel materialize in the rising light.  By the time the sun flooded the room I was into my second cup of coffee and a sumptuous meal -- scrambled eggs, bacon, biscuit, fried potatoes, fruit.  So good. And, really bad for me, I realize.  I sat there for over an hour just being, with plenty of time left for checking out before the final session (Jim Zuckerman on "Travel Photography").

The drive home, a drive without a schedule, through the country rather than on the interstate, was less tense than the one to York on Wednesday, I'm grateful to say.  In fact, I like the Chester to Whitmire to Newberry to Saluda route.  Even the Sunday drivers I sort of enjoyed. 

Come to the end of a driveway or road.  Look both ways, up and down the highway.  See a car -- me --coming.  Pause.  Pause a little while longer.  Pull out, slowly, swinging wide.  Accelerate even more slowly.  Drift over the center line.  Slow and jerk right when meeting an oncoming vehicle.

That must have happened four times.  Traffic was such that it took a bit for me to get around.  It took me almost the whole way home before I realized that I was a Sunday driver, too.  My style's different.  But, we were all out on a very fine day enjoying the road, the scenery, and in my case fond thought of my destination.

Speaking of that, my destination ...  As I pulled the car into the garage, the kitchen door opened.  Two dogs flung themselves down the steps and to the open car door.  Tal was more sedate but no less pleased to have me home at the end of my lovely Sunday drive.