Chris was ready for me and he took over driving for an immediate turnaround. We returned (well, I did) to St. Augustine (which was on our most direct route) late and slept in my room, hoping to get an early start.

And so, in the morning, we got into my Valiant and headed north. In 1969, the southeastern seacoast was largely undeveloped; so we drove for hours without seeing any sign of man other than the pavement, with only the occasional town for punctuation.

The trip from St. Augustine to Jacksonville was old hat to me by now, of course. Then we crossed the swampy stretches between north Florida and southern Georgia. Now we were in terra incognita, unknown lands! We frequently had to exit a completed stretch of I-95 and shuttle off to its older sibling, US 1, which slowed us down but didn't diminish the joy of being 18 and On The Road.

Georgia, South Carolina

The number of miles between Florida and South Carolina along eastern Georgia is relatively small. By evening we had reached Hardeeville, South Carolina. It had been our intention to camp out every night to keep expenses down. But by now, between the two of us, we had driven almost from the southern tip of Florida to South Carolina and we were both too tired to try to find a campground, much less wrestle with the tent. We had passed many little Mom-and-Pop motels and motor lodges along the way; now that we had made our way through Georgia, we determined to stop at one.

The place we chose consisted of charming little cottages, complete with garage! It cost us around $12 for the night. Inside were two double beds. We dragged our gear inside, cooked a can of Dinty Moore stew on my new electric frying pan (purchased from Sears for the trip), and collapsed into our respective beds.