Day 3, 6:45 am:  Poor Barbara pulls into my driveway at 6:45.  (Thank goodness for the Fall Back time change, or we might not have made this).  We hit the road.  Arrive at the Cracker Barrel in Rocky Mount right on time…..

8:00 am, Cracker Barrel:  John and Sophie, our newest BFFs, have been there since 7 am.  A little mixup about the time change.  But they are steadfast.  I have the “Mama’s Pancakes” breakfast:  coffee, two eggs, two sausage patties, and three big pancakes with maple syrup.  “Mama” must have diabetes.  A great talk with John, and we learn a lot about Sophie’s two horses, Cinnamon and Curly.  Sophie is a cute 11 year old, and John is a farm machinery importer.  And John is mad as hell, an ex-Republican who is going to be an important part of the future of NC’s LP.

10:30 am:  Princeville and Tarboro:  No particular place to stop.  Tarboro is a very cool little city, with lots of well-preserved ante-Bellum charm.  Beautiful.  Princeville, on the other side of the Tar River, is an almost all-black community founded by escaped and freed slaves.  The grinding poverty, and the aftermath of the catastrophic flooding from Hurricane Floyd, are all the meet the eye.  A useful comparison, since Princeville reminds us why the Bellum was necessary in the first place, lest Tarboro makes me a little too misty-eyed about the Lost Cause.

11:30:  Williamston:  We stop at the Shamrock Cafe, on US 64 Alternate.  Very friendly wait staff, and they let us have a table for quite a while.  I get hot tea (this cold is killing me….) and peach cobbler; Barbara gets coffee and cheesecake.  They are setting up the (as we say in these parts) BUFF-ay for lunch.  Fried things of many shapes.  A good crowd, mostly the after church crowd.  Fine folks.

12:30:  Plymouth:  The Golden Skillet.  An absolute archetype.  If you want to get in touch with eastern NC, drop by the Golden Skillet at 12:30 on a Sunday morning.  Dress nice.  Get the BUFF-ay.  The fried chicken is fair-to-middling (I’ve had better, but not MUCH better), but the fried okra was first rate, and the other fixin’s were all well-executed.  The cool thing is the way that old men in dark suits, white shirts, and subdued ties move from table to table:  “How are y’all today?  You look GOOD, man.  I mean it.  Have you lost weight?  She must be keeping you straight.”  An ancient dance, affirming the eternal verities of small town life.”

Next:  Wet.  With a video.