Those of you that know me well already know this fact. Those of you that don’t – you’re gonna get to know lots of things about me through this blog. But the fact I want you to know today is that when I’m travelng I always take as much interstate as I can. Mainly because I love to drive fast, really fast. I have a rule – if you’re passing me, on an interstate, you’re a danger to yourselves and others!! Shhh. Don’t tell the police. Anyway . . . I left my home Thursday morning. It was a beautiful day in Middle TN. I had the sun roof open, the sixties on the radio and, as I likto say, I was fat, dumb and happy. I was headed to Prestonsburg KY. I did the first 30 miles on the interstate then asked that bitch on the GPS for a scenic route. She humbly, although with a tone in her voice, obliged. Y’all, I saw some beautiful stuff on that scenic route. First thing was a boiled peanut stand. You don’t find them on the side of I-40! I drove through quaint towns with beautiful old timey town squares. I drove through miles of beautiful federally protected forests. I saw large cattle ranches and old horse farms. Old, like money old, not falling-down old. Don’t get me wrong – I saw the pits of poverty too. Hard to believe folks have to live like that. But what caught my eye was several times I saw cemeteries in folk’s backyards. Seriously. In their backyards. I was somewhere in southeastern KY, I had already passed several of these “at home” graveyards, what I presumed to be familial,backyard cemeteries. Anyway I came along one and there was a man walking around this particular cemetery. Well, I’ve always been inquisitive (my sisters would say nosy) and my best friend in the whole wide world, Jackie, has taught me “you don’t know until you ask”. So. . . I turned my big ass around and went back. I met the nicest man, y’all. His name was William. That farm – wasn’t big by a lot of standards, but it was 40 acres. More land than I’ll ever own anyway. That land had been in his family for like 5 generations. All the men in the family had worked in the coal mines in the area too. All of them were buried in the backyard cemetery. I questioned him about the creepiness of it. He said no. He was comforted that so much of his kin were so close. Some of the headstones were newer, but with old dates. He and his son (who is a senior in high school) are re-doing the headstones so that people can read them better. Some of the earlier ones had been made of wood and had rotted. Some of them were marked by just a rock. I thought it very cool that this man and his son were going to do something so wonderful for their relatives. Both dead and alive. Then I put it back in the street. Still had to get to Prestonsburg to do a show. My point to all of this is . . . take a “scenic” tour every once in a while. You just never know what you might see, who you might meet. Plus – you could miss some awesome boiled peanuts.