June 19, 2007
Time of departure: 7:00 A.M.
Temperature: 71 degrees
Elevation: 100 feet
Total Mileage: 186
“How exactly did you find us?”, was the question from our waitress. I gave a chuckle and tried to decide how to tell her. Apparently, most people don’t just pass through Kentuck, Virginia. I sat and reflected on where we had been and how we arrived at the Corner Cafe.
Our route from Roanoke Rapids, N.C. took us northwest. Soon, we were driving along the pine covered banks of Lake Gaston, a lake that seemed to stretch for miles.
Soon, after leaving Roanoke Rapids, the land started to show signs of becoming undulating. In no time at all, we came to our first real hill since leaving the coast. Open fields separated by hardwood forests became the norm.
In those fields, the overwhelming favorite crop was tobacco. The land was hilly enough to not allow any field to be very large. So, most crops were only a few acres in size. We’d drop 
into and out of a gully and come to another couple of acres of tobacco. This pattern would carry on for 100 miles.
It became obvious these fields had been growing this crop for generations. Every field, it seemed, contained several buildings, most looking to be a century old, that were used to dry the tobacco once it had been harvested.
Our route took us west along the Virginia-North Carolina border, at one point dropping us back into North Carolina for a few miles. By 11:00 A.M. we were ready for lunch. The next crossroads we came to was marked as Kentuck. As luck would have it, there was a cafe there.
Motorcycles, for better or worse, are like magnets. Having not been in the cafe more than five minutes, a fellow came in the cafe and began asking us about the bikes and what we were doing. We talked for a bit. He finally satisfied his curiosity and left. Not until much later in the day did I realize the man had stopped and come in the cafe specifically to ask us questions! That’s curiosity.
In doing so, he alerted our waitress to the fact that we weren’t normal people. I don’t think she had noticed anything about us particularly until that point. Although, I don’t really know how not. We have enough equipment hanging off us for an expedition to Everest.
She then asked us what we were doing and how we found Kentuck. After I gave my story, she had us sign here guestbook(yea, a guestbook in a cafe) and place a pushpin in a map of the U.S. where we were from. When we left, she gave us two free bottles of water. I guess she thought we needed all the help we can get! And, we do.
Oh, also while there, we tried Brown Sugar Pie. It was delicious. Imagine melted caramels with a crust, except much better.
After lunch we rode our last fifty miles to our destination of Martinsville, VA. The town seems fairly non-descript, except for the NASCAR race that happens once a year.
Once again the south is proving that they love their religion. Although, the signs telling me about my soul’s welfare aren’t nearly as numerous as Tennessee. But, we did see something interesting. At some point in the day we past a church titled Small Town Progressive Primitive Baptist Church.
Now, I can understand being Small Town. I can understand being Baptist Church. I can understand being Primitive. I can even understand being Progressive. But we’re not seeing how it’s possible to be both Progressive and Primitive. It seems a bit oxymoronic. Doesn’t one negate the other?
I think I’m gonna start my own denomination. From now on I’m a conservative liberal atheist Christian Devil worshiper. Meredith is undecided.
See y’all down the trail.
Ron and Meredith
