I heard the train - where are we?

Thursday, November 15.

 

Last night, as I was trying to get to sleep, I heard the train whistle.  Pretty close.  Not home yet, the train was too close, but I couldn't remember where we were.  I could hear Jody breathing in his sleep.  That helped.  I knew then that we were still in the car part of the trip back home, but couldn't remember which town, or even which state.  Not Charleston.  Ah, yes.  Asheville.  North Carolina.

 

We left there this morning.  Drove out of NC, across TN and into KY.  Stopped at the Museum of Appalachia - very interesting.  Late afternoon, we stopped at the Buffalo Trace Distillery, where we toured the facility, then sampled (and bought) bourbon.  Then on the Louisville, where we're spending the night.

 

We've been re-routing on the fly - Louisville, instead of Lexington.  One night, instead of two.  Home tomorrow instead of Saturday or Sunday.  Here's our journey so far:

 

All the way to Louisville KY.  Homeward bound.

 

Sock monkey at the Museum of Appalachia.

Hand-made toy tractor, at the Museum of Appalachia.

Bedpan banjo.  No kidding.

Commode seat guitar.  Still not kidding.

Ironing board guitar.

 

Tiny, tiny house.

Schoolchildren, at the Museum of Appalachia.

Lots of hand-written, folksy signs.

About half way through, I realized that the Museum was the private project of one man:

John Rice Irwin.

And he pretty much knew everyone he had acquired objects and stories from.

One of the outbuildings, Museum of Appalachia.

Tallest stills in the country, at Buffalo Trace Distillery.

Private water tower, at Buffalo Trace Distillery.

 

The buffalo isn't as dangerous as everyone makes him out to be. Statistics prove that in the United States more Americans are killed in automobile accidents than are killed by buffalo.
     ~Art Buchwald