Sunday dawned chill and clear, and I won't bore you with how lost I got by following stranger's directions instead of listening to my GPS. Tom-Tom and I have trust issues that we must resolve in counseling. Suffice to say, I visited Greenville, Tennessee twice in one day and from different routes. By noon, it was HOT. I had the top back and my temper was a little frayed by the time I reached Pigeon Forge, a place I hadn't planned to visit.

For reference, Dollywood is in Pigeon Forge along with unlimited entertainment attractions. I happened upon the best attraction the little town has to offer. The Pigeon River runs through Pigeon Forge (imagine that!). The Pigeon River isn't very wide or deep. It gurgles and whispers over rocks. It is enchanting. As a kid, my parents took me to Cherokee, North Carolina and my Dad and I fished in such a river. I actually use that memory in my vampire novel, Cardinal Desires.

Back on track and on the road again: I knew the way to Deals Gap at last. I stayed in a hotel overlooking the Pigeon River, could hear it when I left the balcony door open, which I did to a crisp mountain night, and (drumroll) the room had a Jacuzzi tub.

Next morning I saddled up Z3PO and it's off to Deals Gap we go. Stopped for a Hardee's country ham biscuit (not available everywhere—not in TX) and off I go to Tapoco, North Carolina. I was in high spirits and in love, of course, with Z3PO when I stopped at one of those fake but lovely mountain stores selling expensive, unique gifts. The sign that turned me around was "Moonshine," and I thought that would make a nice present for my Ex. They didn't sell moonshine, silly me, but they directed me to heaven. And I bought a beautiful candle with an extraordinary smell (reminiscent of sandalwood).

The enchanted forest: A winding road by a gurgling river (served on the rocks), the air filled with yellow and black butterflies. Like manna from heaven, dogwoods dropped pink and white blossoms, into the open top of my car. The sunlight filtering through leaves. Fresh, crispy mountain morning breeze. And threaded through this natural beauty the musical purr of the Z3's exhausts. The total sensory input was like music—made visual as well as auditory.

Along the way, I stopped by a waterfall and across the rushing water was a man with a pad and paper, without a shirt, writing away. Trust me this Waterfall Ernest Hemingway should have been wearing his shirt!
The winding river road led to Cage's Cove, a nature preserve. I saw deer and bear, crossed shallow streams in the car. I stopped to visit the past in log cabins and to say a prayer in an old wooden church. This slow 10 miles behind mini-vans and sedans braking every five seconds was still a serene part of a magical journey.

I ran Deals Gap—both ways—to and fro. At the motorcycle resort, I flirted with a gorgeous young man who looked Native American, bought my Tail of the Dragon sticker, a tee for me and for my son, and returned to the Pigeon River and the Jacuzzi for my final night as a free spirit in the mountains.

The trip to home was a bit grueling, as I'd played too long and was due back at work on Thursday. On Tuesday, I set cruise control at 85 and zippy-Z'd along the interstates. Eight hours of intense driving later, I stayed the night at a something hotel, ate something. On Wednesday, ditto on the cruise control and at 3:30 PM, I rolled into Houston and had the bugs washed off my new car.

Time was to be, as it always is, too short. I left part of me in the mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina.

At the beginning of May, I took a Road Trip. It is capitalized because I drove over 2,000 miles. The impetus for this Magnificent Journey was a car.

Not just any car but the one I'd been searching for a long time. I ran a wild-card, shotgun blast search on Google and the 2002 Sterling Gray, 3.0i, manual transmission, Z3 popped up in Pennsylvania. I live in Houston. After a month of numerous phone calls with the owner, who I was surprised believed that I was a serious prospect since I'd answered a free ad on Craigslist, we made a deal and I bought an airplane ticket.

Friday I flew to Philadelphia, PA to look at the car and have it checked by a mechanic (Fat lot of good it did me in the end. Two weeks after my return, I had to have a new clutch). I was looking forward to my train trip to Harrisburg, through the Mennonite country, BUT

I have a touch of neuropathy in my feet, am OUT OF SHAPE and avoid stairs at all costs. Guess what? Going to the train that took me from the airport to Amtrak, I had to haul my bags down a flight of steep stairs. At the Amtrak station, ditto. Needless to say, I made it, fearing that I'd crash and burn on the descent.

For weeks, I had talked with Dan more than I'd talked with my family. In the train station, I heard, "Linda," and turned around. Dan looked nothing like I'd imagined. He was in a word handsome—and it turned out very witty. I mention that here only for texture for my tale as this is a romance blog. He was also married to a very nice woman with three lovely children.

At gone five, we completed our transaction. I'd forgotten my thyroid meds, phoned my doctor and had another few minutes to wait. By six, I decided to leave Harrisburg and drive as far as I could, though I was exhausted. My son, every mindful of my welfare, had dropped me at the airport at 6 AM for an 8:30 flight.

My destination, at all times, was Deals Gap, North Carolina, Highway 129, 11 miles with 318 hairpin curves that attracts motorcyclists and sports car enthusiasts alike. I was bound and determined to get a sticker for my new car after I'd mastered the Tail of the Dragon (web site advert: Ride me if you dare.) http://www.tailofthedragon.com/

First night, I only made it 50 miles before I crashed at a Hampton Inn. Next morning, I popped out of bed, gobbled a free continental breakfast (you know how good they are) and grabbed Z for the next leg of our journey. Since I was flying solo, anthropomorphism rapidly occurred, and the car became Z3PO. I'd been told that when they first hit the market they were called "land shark" because of the long, sloping nose.

On my trip through the beautiful Shenandoah Valley, I'd intended to see our PFS Beth, but I'd left her telephone number at home. I did a short side trip to Staunton, took a top back drive to the scene of one of my great adventures—an English Civil War Reenactment of the Battle of Worcester where my stallion Alegre and I joined the King's Calvary. Another story, another road trip.

Sundown Saturday, we made beautiful downtown Fancy Gap, Virginia—a dot on the map, but I was too tired to drive farther in the dark, in the mountains. My accommodation was one of those one-story L-shaped motels that you once saw so much in the Blue Ridge and Smokey Mountains. Z3PO was incensed at the potholed parking lot. But the motel had a restaurant attached, or the other way around, not quite sure. I had a REAL hamburger, genuine beef, lettuce and a tomato with flavor. Two guys from Canada were unpacking next door to my very sparse (not even a phone) room and we started talking. They were antique enthusiasts returning from a show in New Orleans. They offered me a rum and coke and I accepted. We sat in plastic chairs, sipping our drinks, from very different climes geographically and personally. I have a folder of memories. This one was filed under how nice people can be.

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW.