I was about 7-8 miles from the nearest house when the narrow road dead-ended. As I was trying to turn around, the Prius got stuck rear down a sandy embankment. Of course I had no cell service, and couldn’t call anyone for help. So I blocked the rear wheel with a big rock to keep myself from rolling down any further, took everything out of the back of the car, and kept putting rocks, sticks, and greenery under the front wheels for better traction. The Prius inched forward at a painfully slow pace, as I kept replacing stuff under the front wheel, trying to rock and push the car forward using the driver’s door frame, with one foot on the gas and one foot on the ground. It took about 45 minutes to get unstuck.

Annoyed, dripping wet from such exertion in 95-degree heat, and coated with dirt–all was made better when I saw this waterfall on my drive back to civilization. Five minutes in nature’s ice-cold shower washed away more than just dirt and sweat.

This is something I’ve always found curious about the South. Strip clubs, sex shops, and other “immoral” pursuits don’t seem as prevalent above the Mason-Dixon line. But they proliferate across the Bible Belt, most always accompanied by an overt display of religiosity–like this scene off I-75 an hour north of Knoxville, Tennessee.

As I was getting ready to go after talking with them for a couple of hours, Deb asked me where I was staying that night. I told her about couchsurfing.com, and how I’d lined up my first host family in Bowling Green, KY.  Her response: “I don’t know if I like the idea of you staying with strangers. Maybe you should just spend the night here.”