Day One-Hundred-Sixty-Four, Samsung Sucks (10x Fast)

I woke again to rifle fire. It was still dark outside. Technically they are supposed to wait until the sun comes up. But when a big buck's sticking his tongue out at you it is awfully hard to wait.

I camp in the woods. Deer live in the woods. The hunters are out in force. Most, no doubt, are serious men who more or less know what they're doing. But all it will take is one idiot. Back and to the left.

It is not as if I am back country. I stick pretty close to the highway. "People know better," I asked a hunter, "than to shoot across the road?"

"Well..." was all he could say. I was not reassured.

He moon was very bright last night. You could all but read in my tent. Even in amongst the trees. I woke up several times. In order to see if I had to throw up. It turned out I did not. Not just yet, at any rate. The feeling has not yet passed.

I shot down a side road to Medina, Tennessee, another very small town. I thought I'd be dining on Pop-Tarts this morning but they did have a fine cafe. I had one of my biggest breakfasts. It was delightfully cheap. But I did not leave there wholly pleased. I'm having problems with my computer.

It sometimes refuses to charge itself, or to hold that charge when it does. I'm bleeding power from somewhere or other. It is driving me nuts. I spent two or three hours plugged in today when I would have preferred to be walking. I've got eleven hours of daylight to work with these days. It's getting harder to meet my quota.

Which is twenty miles, should it interest you. Any less and I feel ashamed. If I still had eighteen hours of sun, I'd be doing thirty I'm sure. I am stronger than ever, despite my complaints. Today I walked twenty-two. But it could and should have been twenty-five. Hey, Samsung, you suck.

Out of Medina I headed south, along the back roads for a while. The highways are rather nice around here, but this was the shorter route. There was no shoulder and some dump truck traffic. I worry about country dogs. A black lab puppy snuck behind me and barked. I almost pooped myself.

He had a big bark for a little dog. I gave him a piece of my mind. I hope I didn't hurt his wee puppy feelings. I think he was just having fun.

My battery being what it is, I did not dare check my map. Too much of that and I would not be able to type up my daily report. So I pointed myself to what I thought was the south and sullenly walked on.

There are plenty of towns around here. I really can't get lost. I've got my Pop-Tarts and I've got my tent. I am good for two or three days. Once when I got lost in Montana I thought I was going to die. Or kill the weasels at Google Maps who had sent me so far astray.

Not kill. I exaggerate. I do it for comic effect. I doubt I'd do more than glare at them or make fun of them until they cried.

It was my chief ambition to make it through Jackson. It is a proper city. I had conflicting reports about how far away it was. Turned out I discovered a shortcut. It took me right there. Just about when I thought I was lost I hit the city limits.

Which don't exactly put you downtown. They extend their limits as far as they can. That way they can collect more taxes and sell more building permits. I was still in the countryside, but at least I was on the right track.

Eventually I got to some new houses. Big ol' suburban places. With twin master bedrooms and three car garages. I can't imagine who's buying them. For the same price half a mile up the road you can get thirty or forty acres. You might have to live in a shack for a while, but it would be money well spent.

Onward and up and into town my little road narrowed some. And traffic got much heavier. There was no sidewalk at all. It was a little hairy but the weather was nice. It was in the high seventies today. Seventy-nine, said a bank clock, but they inflate their figures.

I walked the whole length of Jackson, Tennessee, population 65,000. On smaller streets, through neighborhoods. It is rather a jumble. Most of the houses I saw were quite old. A lot of them were fairly grand. But others among them are crumblng. They are all mixed together. There will be a series of mansions with circular driveways across from a check-cashing place. Or a muffler shop or a liquor store that closed ten years ago.

There are hills and trees and a whole lot of cars. There's a county and a federal courthouse. At length I reached the far edge of town. I walked on without stopping. I was on my wide highway again. I walked through two miles of countryside. Then the city of Jackson started all over again.

It was that same street you see in every reasonably sized city in America. A four-lane road with a turn lane or two, lined on both sides by junk. Carpet discounters and fast food shops. Strip malls and Walmarts and such. Car dealers and insurance offices and one or two Mexican restaurants. It went on and on and on for miles. At least there was a sidewalk.

I eventually stopped at a McDonald's. Hey, McDonald's, you suck. Your food, I mean. It was indeed a fairly good place to sit. I could refill my Coke. I don't know if it's allowed, but thet don't pay their people enough to yell at me. And I plugged my computer in to recharge. That charge did not take.

It is causing me all manner of stress. Really. It gnaws at me. One hates to grow repetitive but Samsung really really sucks. Sucks. Sucks sucks sucks. Sucks, I tell you. They suck. Or maybe it is those Droid weasels. I've got a power bleed somewhere. It is really making me angry, and anger doesn't become me at all.

Sweetness and light suit me beautifully. Always have.

I must have had some other adventures. I'm sure I gleaned an insight or two. But they are forever lost to the world. Because Samsung sucks. Find me now camped south of town on the very edge of a ravine. There is evidence that a hunter perched here not so very long ago. So long as they are shooting down and not up, I should be just fine.

I SAW my first cotton fields today. Fluffy. Even after the harvest. There is too a great deal of cotton along the edge of the road. Blown off trucks, I imagine, or maybe just loose in the wind. In either case, it's exotic to me, being a Yankee and all.

THE LADY at the register at a gas station refused to let me pay for my CocaCola. No discussion, no questions asked. Either I was the millionth customer, or she thought I was a hobo.

FORGIVE ME, I sent my Bible home. It was bulky in my pack. I already have a Bible but this one's inscribed my the Reverend Robert Waddle. I'll read it, I promise. When I get glasses. Or longer arms.

YOU'LL BE HAPPY to know I did learn something from my brush with this man of God. Fried baloney is good. Seriously. Try it and see if I'm wrong.

SAMSUNG sucks.

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