Woody & My IBF

In the morning, I had to deal with the iPhone problem. The girls at AT&T were very nice and since all my photos are on my phone, not my SIM card, they suggested I email them to myself. Fab! I know own my third iPhone 4 (one lost at jury duty, one broken). And a new two year service agreement. This is what Woodie looked like after my errand:

I now know that Elizabethtown is commonly known as E-Town, possibly because no town should be saddled with five syllables. I know this because I have asked for many directions today.

I decided to go to the Coca Cola Memorabilia Museum. It is directly next door to the Holiday Inn Express. It wasn't there when I left the hotel this morning. I swear. While I write in depth in another post, suffice it to say that recommendation from the museum to go to Visitor's Center was, well, misguided.

I was planning to go to Bardstown, the center of the Bourbon Trail. It's supposed to be a cute town, with nice restaurants and B&B's. It's pretty easy to get to from E-Town. 26 miles to the east on Route 62. I wanted to see if I could get a room at a B&B, so I asked the Visitor's Center lady how to get there and if there was a Visitor's Center there. She pulled out a map of E-Town. Nooooooo! No more E-Town. I explained I wanted to go to Bardstown. So she reluctantly pulled out a map of Bardstown's center. It showed Route 62 going right into the center of it. But, no. She said the road was too hilly and windy. I should take the West Kentucky Turnpike, but really the easiest thing is to go on I-whatever. There will be an exit right there. Okay, I like small roads, and I don't care about hills. She brushed her hand across the desk saying Route 62 is right there. You can just take it that way. Okay. I set off. Remember, this is 26 miles.

These are things I saw:

• A sign for a propane store with a face made out of the bottom of one of the bottles
• Exhaust 'n' Hair (one sign, two services)
• Forrest's Calling Cards (what a nice tradition here is the outback; only later did I figure out that it was telephone cards, not social cards)
• Roof for Sale (once I could read the details, I understood that it was a roofing company for sale)
• A general store (wish I had popped in; guaranteed to have lots of gossip)
• Sally's Restaurant

The latter had the red and while cursive lettering on one of those white plastic used-to-be-illuminated hanging signs. I really wanted to stop there, but the sleet was insane. I also began to notice a lot of signs for a lot of places with Coca Cola on them. See what visiting the Coca Cola Memorabilia Museum will do to you?

True to my tractor test, there was a lot of agricultural machinery. Unfortunately for them, a lot was rusted from disuse. I saw tractors under carports. I saw tractors in front yards. I saw tractors driving on the road. I saw tractors in the ditch. I even saw tractors for sale. This has to be a really tiny town.

About an hour and a half after leaving E-Town, I no longer saw the Route 62 signs. I think I missed a turn. I went into a convenience store. Had to wait for the other girl because she is better at directions than the first one. Nowhere near 62. I turned back. Stopped at a BP (there are lots of them here). This one did not have a convenience store. It had an actual garage, you know, the place where they fix your car and don't charge you the dealer price. Three guys looked through the grubby window. After awhile, a huge one with Carthartt overalls came out. He looked exactly like Hagrid. Anyhow, I needed to go back by the Wal-mart. I still didn't quite get it. All the directions were taking me the wrong way. I finally stopped at a medical care place and there were three very nice, very literate women to help me. I brought in my map. I had to go back to E-Town. The bitch at the Visitors Center sent me the wrong way on Route 62. There were six inches of slush on the ground and snowplows out.

Returning to E-Town, I hit the I-whatever and went to find the Bardstown exit. I really need that bourbon now. Nothing. I finally could see practically nothing. My windshield wipers are weak, and with the ice, they are now completely stopped. It is so cold out and I am breathing, so the windshield is also foggy.  The Rain-X is helping. The real problem is the trucks. I have been continually irked by cars who pass me and then do the exact same speed I am but in front of me. This seems to happen with one car passing another car passing another car until they are all in one big clump doing the same speed. With truck in snow, this is a nightmare. When a truck goes by, I am covered with slush, like a frosty in one of those car washes that scare the shit out of your kid when the black flapper things beat the roof. They drive about 15 feet in front of me, on my left, putting me in the perpetual 7-11 swirlie/icee/frosty/slushieBardstown tonight, but maybe I can have a nice breakfast there in the morning. I vowed to get off at the next place I could find lodging. The next exit has a Holiday Inn Express! I followed the signs the one mile to the hotel. And I kept on driving and driving and driving. The road was truly scary at that point, the winding through some kind of forest with NO shoulder at all. I couldn't pull over, never mind turn around. It turns out the Holiday Inn Express was not 1 mile away, but 10 miles (damn snow on the sign). I gave up and vowed to turn around the next place I could. There was an intersection with a traffic light and a MacDonalds. I was in Ft. Knox, home of the Patton Museum and it was 7:30 p.m. No museum for me. Guess what? You can't get to Bardstown from there. You have to go back to I-whatever.

I stopped in Micky D's parking lot. Guy pulled up. You lost? Uh, no. I'm never lost because I'm never going anywhere. He said he had pulled up to me before to take a picture. He couldn't believe that I was driving that thing (Woody gets no respect) in the snow. He has a 1948 Chrysler Town and Country in a garage just up the road. This is a very nice car.  It looks like this===>

I couldn't bear to go back to the Holiday Inn Express that disappointed me so much last night, so I tried the Ramada. My family always used to go there on car trips when we were little and it was swanky. Gary was a vision.

He put me on the first floor and gave me a 10% off coupon for Indian food (!).  Namaste delivers right to your room. Woody is in sight and I have curry-scented hair. Sure beats eau de petroleum. Here is the handsome delivery guy. He beats his uncle who did the delivery before mine. I saw him in the lobby.

I had a delightful Tikka Masala. They actually asked me if I wanted it mild, medium or hot. I've never had that choice before. Very cool because the hot goes with the hot bath theme. The basmati had actual cloves and cardamom that you can see. The mango lassi is a milkshake, if you ask me, but if it counts as a normal beverage, I feel better. I am still pretending I didn't eat that Quarter Pounder with cheese a half an hour ago. Anyhow, that was lunch.

There is a bathtub. There are no bathtubs at the Holiday Inn Express. I was so  happy to soak in steaming water that I felt obligated to clean the tub afterwards. Hey, I told you I have a hygiene thing. They also had the shower curtain looped through the soap dish so you could sit in your little cabana and not have the nasty thing in the tub with you.

On the downside, there is no special germ-free remote. And the phone is one of those tan lightweight plastic jobs that turns kinda green over time. It sometimes doesn't have a dial tone. I know this because I had to call Gary for a knife and fork. They do have a cable lineup on the TV. Would have been useful when I couldn't find the Super Bowl channel. The sink isn't cracked and the countertop is granite. It is still impossible to open the soap. I think the motels have some incentive plan based on how little soap the guests use. As I said, it is never possible to have too many scissors.

Verdict: When in Elizabethtown, you must stay at the Ramada. Sorry, my Holiday Inn Express.

But check it out! As I came dashing in looking like something the cat drug in, a kind of cute twenty-something said I like your car. Do you like younger men? Before I could think, I said as a matter of fact I do. He asked me for drinks or dinner. I am such a slut (no, I didn't go, he was heartbroken). Note to self: don't brush hair.

• My way to Bardstown
• My way back to E-Town
• My way to Bardstown
• My way back from Ft. Knox and the Patton Museum
• My mind

Found:

• A new bruise. Old one is yellow-green one next to it. I think I know where these are coming from. I have been very close to actually being stuck in the car. I mean panicking being stuck. One way to get stuck is to twist around in the front seat to get into the back seat. If you are in the driver's side, you will get stuck under the steering wheel kinda sideways.  You really have to yank to get out. War is hell.
• Ramada Inns