I’ve never been a fan of chicharrones. My dad loves ’em, and so does Kyle. But the thought of eating fried pig skin deterred me until they became the only snack left in truck.
Alright, they’re damned tasty.
After the spine-massaging roads of Georgia and the Carolinas, the well-maintained roads of Virginia were a treat. Until the highway went down to one lane because they were repainting the lines. And while good road signage is always appreciated, who needs 8 signs complete with diagrams telling us how to get to Washington?
Tonight we’re staying in a Days Inn in Colonial Heights, VA. If the company was going for town-to-town variety, they succeeded. Where the one in Georgia was clean and the staff friendly, the barley-English-speaking staff in the lobby and dubious surroundings here make me feel like I should get paid to stay the night, instead of the other way around. Pet friendly? This particular branch wanted a fee for the pleasure of our two kitties’ patronage.