It is shortly after seven as I write at the Whitten Inn, in a place called Santee, South Carolina. I had hoped to make Savannah, Georgia, but that would have been another hundred miles down the road. This drive is much further than I thought- comparing the regular 800 miles to the Little Village By the Bay in Michigan and the slightly longer 1150 south didn’t seem like much until I was behind the wheel and on my bete noire highway, I-95, and then it got interesting from a technical perspective.

Roads were dry, and the threat of wintry mix was on my tail heading south through Richmond. There were a lot of utility trucks in the right lane, slow-moving with flashers- heading home after augmenting the NE during the recent storms. They may be turning around- the radio tells me the wintry mix is going to sweep in across the Southland tomorrow, so it behooves me to get ahead of it. The Winter will not quite let me be. The new storm is supposed to hit Georgia, again, so there is a certain urgency to getting my act in order. One tank of gas should get the winter of 2014 behind the Panzer’s formidable bumper. But I feel the urgency and imperative of the forecast.

As I mentioned last night, the light died approaching the municipality of Santee, in South Carolina. The Interstate 95 bridge over Lake Marion, man-made in the 1930s on the farmlands and marshes of the Santee River is picturesque, and apparently famous for trophy-quality game fish, notably small and large mouth bass. The bi-passed old road is now used as a fishing pier.

I must have been here before, or at least passed through it when we lived in the Bold New City of the South. The Cameo Bar, conveniently located off the reception lobby, offered a complementary drink with the purchase of one, so I got a chop salad from the Subway next to the Whitten Inn and then stopped by to cash in the freebie.

Debbie was the bar-tender. Lucky and Loretta were next to me at the bar, and a couple had fed the juke box with an eclectic mix of classic country- Patsy Cline- and Derek and the Dominoes rock. I had four drinks, total, for $15 before retiring to watch the Winter Games and sleep through the night.

Nice place. The median income here is right around the poverty level, but everyone seems polite and friendly. I am looking at places with a completely different view these days.

Gotta shower and see if the car was broken into over night, when such things can happen.

The pool is open, though I am not going to get in. Room 108 is just to the left on this promotional picture of the Inn.

This is my go-to place in South Carolina. $61 bucks for the night, with taxes, of course.

Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303