Heading through Kentucky

 Well it's about 1:30 on God knows what day it's the 14th I think but I'm not sure. I'm in Kentucky at Cumberland waterfalls resort, an obtuse Beacon of boozgeois entitlement, I'm it's miles and miles and miles of back curly Switchback Road where houses are falling apart at the seams and motorcycles and tractors sit on front porches. I stopped at a gas station– the only one on the way oh, and of course there was an Indian running it -East Indian. The gas was under $3 a gallon, 2.99 I think, and the scruffy old boys of town were hanging out around a feed bin being told by some jalopious truck. 

   The Bell dinged when I went inside the door, begrudgingly touching handles that had been handled by 8000 people who probably hadn't washed their hands in a year. When I inquired about using the restroom, the Indian guy told me that they had to have a key now. 

    It says 'Out of Order" on the door because so many locals are coming messing it up because they don't have bathrooms in their houses. I looked at him. 

 "How can they have bathrooms," he said, " if they don't have any water?  

Okay, I've been sitting here in this RV park at a picnic table out in the open, surrounded by 60' RVs that have like six pull-out sides on them: a house, trying to figure out how to transfer my photos from my phone to my laptop- for like THREE hours. 

     Some 60-footer two doors down is cranking the music inside; that, or they have some chickens.

    So yesterday, after four hours of driving backroads yesterday (in Kentucky), I finally found a diner.  Quite an adorable diner, with two portly women lunching right in front of me.  So I took pictures, without them knowing, throughout my whole catfish meal (catfish on a hot dog bun.)

      

     

    Ohio River

I took a wrong turn, looking for a "Mountain Craft Store," which I found over an hour down a 25 mph switch-back road later.