By the time I had reached Atlanta it was very obvious that I wasn't going to make it home at a reasonable time tomorrow. Between the normal holiday traffic, the pain in my back and hip, and a few traffic accidents, I was far behind schedule at that point.
I decided to stop by and see my old friend George Jones. No, not THAT George Jones. He's a retired trucker from the old school. When he retired he opened a bar/restaurant in Conley, GA which is just South of Atlanta. He's a good old guy. Any trucker stuck out on the road on Thanksgiving or Christmas can count on a good meal free of charge at George's place called Southern Comfort. All George asks in return is that you listen to his country/bluegrass band play on stage.
I used to know a driver we all knew as "Country Bob". He was a trucker who also owned a bar in Binghamton, NY that was named "Country Bob's". It was a trucking landmark for years. Bob was killed in a trucking accident on 9/11/01. Same day the WTC was hit. It was George who told me Bob died that day. We shed a few tears together.
Thanks to my car accident I hadn't been in the Southern Comfort in a couple of years. When I walked in I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer. I didn't recognize anyone there. About my third beer george walked by and, as is his habit, he stopped and asked me how I was doing. It took him a moment to recognize me and then he was all hugs and pats on the back.
As I hadn't been there in so long he assumed I had been killed out on the road somewhere. We spent some time catching up on stuff.
He treated me to a nice steak dinner and we caught up on old times while drinking a few beers together. It was quite nice actually.
Then it was time for his band to play. I never did have the heart to tell the old guy that he can't sing worth a damn.