The travel bug grabbed hold of me when I was a kid growing up in the South. Every chance we could, my parents and I set off in the family’s 1967 Cadillac Coup DeVille and explored back roads, big cities, and long stretches of sandy beaches. Being the youngest, with both my brother and sister away at college, I had the huge gold Caddie’s backseat to myself and watched the miles blur past in between Dairy Queen stops, on our quest to see which one made the biggest chocolate dipped cone (outside of Decatur, Alabama).  We were transplants from “Up North”—Oregon to be exact—and the segregated South was like a foreign country to us, with their “Yes, Sir’s, No Mam’s, Y’alls,” said with an accent as thick as fried chicken’s crunchy crust. For more, click download button above!


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