A nickel and a dime could get you a
MoonPie and an ice-cold bottle of
Nehi Orange at Tucker's Store over on
Dry Valley Road. It was a special treat
provided by the good Lord above, and
those delicacies awaited us just a
slight stretch of walking distance away
from our houses back in the summer
of 1967. A winding half a mile jaunt
along one of the curviest roads in the
county. A journey made more exciting by
way of a shortcut through old man
Williamson's front yard and then pushing
through a thick cluster of honeysuckle
bushes. Past the bushes was a large
gathering of pines and oak trees that we
were sure stretched all the way to the sea.
Over the years, the trees seemed to have
conspired to create a dark trail that surely
sunlight nor any other humans had visited
since back in the Civil War, or so we imagined.
For an eight-year-old and his buddies, this was an adventure far better than any ride that
Lake Winnie, with its merry-go-rounds and roller coasters, had to offer. So, with fifteen cents in our
pocket and rambling fever in our bones, we would
set out like explorers of old seeking treasure in a
far-off land.