Day 12 included travel
from Winston-Salem to our Sevierville, Tennessee cabin in The Smokies, but
first, one of our new found Southern friends, we shall call her D-nice,
suggested we make a quick pit stop on the way out of town.
Miss D-nice pointed us
in the direction of Dewey’s Moravian Bakery in Winston-Salem. “They have some
delicious pastries and cinnamon rolls,” she wrote on the FB. Cinnamon rolls?
You don’t have to tell this Yankee twice! Thus, Dewey’s was an immediately-added
side attraction. So we left the farm-side hotel en route to the bakery and arrived
to find this tray of ridiculously sweet and cinnamony joy:
Insert Frank Barone’s “Holy
Crap” here once more. Seeing that Elmer’s Glue-like frosting, asking for milk
was an absolute necessity. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in my
four decades of earthly existence, I encountered a cinnamon roll that I could not
tame. I simply could not finish it. I quit. I was, and still am, ashamed. Like that bridge
over the Chicago River I conquered the second time during Bike the Drive, I
hope to dominant a Dewey’s cinnamon roll the next time we enter the Winston-Salem
city limits. Like LL Cool J, I’m gonna knock it out!
While waiting for some
of the cinnamon roll to settle before attempting to consume more, I consulted
The Google to find that another Edward McKay bookstore was located less than
half a mile from Dewey’s. After failing to finish the roll of the god of all
things sweetened, we headed across the road to peruse the sports books section.
I grabbed a few and the visit was over in a flash and we were again on our
merry way. Great Smoky Mountains National Park, here we come!
After a few hours of
road tripping and potty breaking, it was time for lunching. Thus, the search
for a Bojangles began. Any other time, there was a Bojangles at virtually every
exit. Not so today. Mile after Bojanglesless mile we drove. “Wendy’s?” No.
Subway? No. Hardee’s? No. There would be no compromise and no substitutes. My
Monday morning Hope Mills Bojangles breakfast would not be my last visit to the
real Southern Comfort. I would have none of it. So lunch was put off a bit
longer until, lo and behold, the red and yellow logo of supreme awesomeness
appeared on the food locator highway sign. God bless America. And, thus, we
broke biscuit.
With the midday feeding
out of the way, we continued onward to our Smokies living place for the next three
days. Like my brother-in-law, Marky, we took a different way than what Karen
suggested in exchange for a more scenic route than what I-40 had to offer. This roundabout
way actually became familiar when we rolled up onto Gatlinburg
from the back way. We took the left fork once we hit downtown G-burg and headed
into Pigeon Forge and, finally, to Sevierville to check in. A right turn at the
G-burg fork would have taken us through the "Vegas of the Smokies" and the 15
t-shirt stores and other assorted touristy crap along the route. Unfortunately,
we wouldn’t be able to avoid the G-burg strip for the entire trip as one of the
entrances to the GSMNP lies just on the other
side. It hurts my soul to drive that strip, but it’s worth it once you pass.
Since we rolled into town in late afternoon, almost early evening, we decided to simply chill for the evening at the cabin. So I began catching up with some blogging… Apparently, I’m still in catch up mode. I promise I’ll finish before the 2014 Road Trip!
You know the drill. Click HERE for the photos.
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