August 14th we packed the new car and headed South. We, were June, Mary Lou, Sean and David, and myself. The trip was to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I had never visited the place. June had camped there with her gang on several occasions some 20 years ago.
Michael Golden had been there the last two years and we decided to join him this August. The reservation in the Firebird Motel had been made back at the end of 1991.
The day was dreary. Thursday night we had to put the car roof-baggage carrier on in intermittent rain. We were off early, around 7:30 a.m. and anticipated arriving at our overnight stay in St. Petersburg, VA around 3:00 p.m. The rain come off and one as we sailed down Rt. I-95. The twins, like Pop-pop, had never been to Myrtle Beach. They enjoyed their Aunt Mary Lou showing them the new state signs. Now we are in Delaware! Now we are in Maryland!, etc. The weather really wasn’t bad for driving, it was just that we kept hoping the sun would come out the further south we went. The stopover was picked with a pool so the young guys and their aunt could begin the vacation right on the route. But it never happened – we made excellent time but the cause was lost.
We arrived outside St. Petersburg at 1:30 p.m. We debated whether to go on or stop, but the weather was wearing, so it seemed prudent to stop.
There we were in the rain in Virginia. What better excuse for a short nap. But first a walk. The rain came and went and we managed to get a period of 55 minutes that was dry. We walked away from the motel into the countryside. The motel was at an intersection of two interstate highways. Three or four motels were clustered around the intersection. I noticed the names on the mailboxes as we went down “Cleary Road” to a dead end – or an entrance to what was once the “Cleary Estate.” The names were “Abernathy,” “Fischer.” Somehow as I remember now they “seemed” southern.
Part of the motel complex had a restaurant called “Steven Kent’s.” It had several rooms. We had a corner table up on a bit of a raised platform and very cheerful waiter, who advised with great glee that David should not try squash! Despite Pop-pop’s suggestion that he might never know until he tried it – whether he liked it. He got a good deal of advice from Grandmom and Aunt Mary Lou that he definitely would not like it. David passed the squash. We had a toast – to the “finest people” I know – one I seemed to have cultivated on a trip some 20 years ago with some of the other finest people I know.
We also toasted our 11th anniverary eve. Tomorrow, the 15th of August, we would celebrate by driving the remaining 300 miles to Myrtle Beach.
Our anniversary eve repast reminded me of a meal with June and Sister Eleanore, Ann, Sr. Rosemary and Sr. Mary shortly after we began dating. As Sister Eleanore walked with June to visit the lady’s room, Sister politely inquired if she, June, was a friend of Katherine or a neighbor perhaps!
We awoke to more clouds. We roused everyone around 7:00 a.m. and were going to breakfast at the motel restaurant. But this Saturday morning in August, it was doing a booming business. We decided to move on down the road. We went about 12 miles to a truck stop. Good hearty ham and eggs place. All enjoyed the big start. Our schedule called for us to be just over the South Caroline border around 12:30 p.m. We were to meet Mike and Cindy there for lunch. They had started at 2:00 a.m. that morning and were driving straight through. “Ah youth!” As George Bernard Shaw said, “It’s a shame it’s wasted on the young.”
We again made excellent time. The guys played games with Aunt Mary Lou and she began about halfway across North Carolina to read the signs welcoming everyone to “South of the Border” – some very bad puns. “South of the Border” is a complex of souvenir shops, amusements, fast and slow food places, all done in Mexican motif. It is one mile inside the South Carolina state line.
The highlights of Myrtle Beach: The walk to find the lost “Angelo’s”; the dip in the warm Atlantic after a run on the beach; the ride into the sun rise to find a golf course – just a state away; floating down the “Lazy River” on an innertube with June right behind; Mike and I on the Eagle’s Nest Golf club with two natives; the joy of watching the twins and Kelly, and all their new friends go all day; “Dixie Stampede,” a grand finale with a great show and enjoying the food eaten with our hands.
The lost Restaurant episode occurred August 17th. We had decided to go out to dinner. All of us together, Mike, Cindy, Kelly & Matthew and our gang. Mary Lou had been working her way through the large discount book, the several flyers we had accumulated in advance and others picked up here in Myrtle Beach. They found an Italian restaurant called “Angelo’s” with a buffet all you can eat motif – just what mother ordered (or grandmother). June had an ad with a map that had a little block marking Angelo’s and it appeared to be on Kings Highway (Route 17) just where it converged with Ocean Avenue (Route 17B) at the south end of Myrtle Beach. June and I had walked down there the day or so before. So, for our walk we decided we would go find Angelo’s and check it out. We left around 2:00p.m . . . . It was hot and humid. The point where the highways converge is about 20 city blocks from our motel. The last numbered street was 29th and we were at 21st, but then there was a long curved open highway. On both sides were amusement parks, driving ranges, batting range, car racing tracks, etc. We got to the convergent point in 23 minutes, thoroughly soaked through, dripping since there was no breeze. We had not found the restaurant! We returned in about the same time, satisfied that at least we had a good walk, and went to look at the ad. Lo and behold the address was 2100 King’s Highway, i.e., one block west, up 21st Street. Admittedly, the badly scaled map made it appear that the restaurant was down near the south end of Myrtle Beach, but in its very small space it covered some 30 miles of coastline.
The dinner was great after we got Matthew to understand that his father wasn’t leaving him every time he went into the next room to get food.