If I’d more energy I’d have stopped in Wilmington to browse the galleries. I just found out about Skip Morrow’s Gallery of Humor. Man, that would’ve been a fun stop. Next time, next time. There are a few other interesting joints, including Gallery Wright which reps regional talent. After gallery-izing, lunch at Dot’s, a great diner-esque joint, would’ve been in order.For a hamlet of 2,000 (more or less) souls, they seem to have some cool shit going on.
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| peanut butter, vanilla and maple walnut...I think. |
No, I don’t imagine the gift shops fudge will bring TAB back to me but, while I nibble, I’ll think of him and dream.

From there I made my way, (without even getting lost!) south to Massachusetts. Just before Erving and my inevitable stop at Freight House Antiques, I passed The French King Motel which is, as one could guess, next door to the French King Bridge (named for a big rock. huh). The view from the bridge is tremendous. I keep thinking that, on some clear, crisp autumn day, I’ll drive out, go all snap happy and then spend the night at this modest little inn. Something about roadside hotels really appeals to me. They feel anonymous, hidden, transitory. It’s as though I’m between dimensions – neither here nor there but floating in some limbo-ish, resting place. Yup, feels all sci fi creepy/cool/cozy/safe.
Why didn’t I? Apart from not wanting to spend the bucks, I couldn’t imagine where I’d put them. TAB always said We’re full up. You bring home anything new and something’s got to go. Smart man. So I asked myself, Do I really need my couch or those tome-laden bookshelves? Ummmm, yes?
| I think I really gotta have this! |

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