thoughts on driving through Kentucky

So, instead of my usual route from Newark to Nashville I drove through Kentucky, to stay with friends in Lexington on the way down South. And then, also, on the way back up, a last minute offer to stay at another friend's home sent us back through Woodford Reserve country.

I have never before seen such hospitality--and I grew up in the South, y'all. But when we arrived in Midway we found that the caretaker of the house had not only gone to the store and stocked the fridge--with everything from toddler friendly snacks to Heineken--but had brought over toys from her house for Z, and a training potty.

A training potty. For people she'd never seen before or ever heard of. I'm still overwhelmed by it all.

After sleeping well and late, we got back in the car, now stocked with snacks for the road courtesy of our hostess, and got underway. A couple hours later, after gassing up, we were in a left turn lane waiting for a green light onto the entry ramp to the highway when a large, old diesel truck roared up behind us and camped out on our bumper revving its engines. Figuring they were in a hurry I accelerated to 80 on the entry ramp while merging but they zoomed past and I got the most baleful stare of my life from the dude in the passenger seat. I don't know if it was the NJ plates, the Obama sticker or just that I was driving a Prius. I've heard that some people have a manhood issue with that.

And that was Kentucky. Beautiful, hospitable, warm, lovely--but maybe not so universally friendly to Obama-loving Prius drivers from Jersey...