Monck’s Corner, May 13

Riding through this part of the country numbs the mind—mile after mile of pine trees marching to the horizon in military fashion. Turn a corner and you’re looking down a ruler-straight corridor of pines for miles ahead.

A sign announces “Hollow Magnolia Plantation.” Ah, a sign of civilization. You think you hear the rustle of crinolines and the muffled laughs of delicate Southern ladies.  As you reach the gated entrance you look down the long driveway hoping to see some elegant mansion but all that’s visible is yet more marching pines.  And then you notice a small sign: ‘MeadWestvaco Tree Farm.” Damn. They even name their tree farms down here.

The monotony is broken by the occasional vast open acreage of timbered land. Everything that once stood tall has been removed and what remains are scattered mounds of timber trash that I’ve been told provides excellent dwelling for some wildlife.

Dogs also break the monotony. You don’t generally encounter them in urban settings; I guess they’re too preoccupied with more interesting things than a passing bicyclist. However, when a country dog sees something moving slower than 60 mph past their property and is smaller than a semi, that’s something to chase.  So far, what has chased me has been silly, even laughable. Today it was a dachshund and several other short-legged canines that looked like those foo-foo cock-a-poo  creations some people think are precious. What strikes fear in my heart are the mongrels we encountered in Missouri, Kentucky and Virginia on our ride across the country in 2010. Those were some to-be-taken-very-seriously dogs, snarling, slavering, hair-up-on-their-backs canines that had good lungs, long legs and ran alongside for a long time, darting in and out at us. That got you pedaling as fast as your fearful heart allowed.

I haven’t mentioned the rain simply because it is a constant. To this point in my journey there have been two days without it. Today was not one of them. However, in the great scheme of things I’m beginning to see some benefit in the daily dumpings.

I peddled like mad into Ridgeville as the clouds darkened and thunder rolled. Ah, relief just in time under a store’s overhang. Several minutes later having situated myself, I looked in the store’s window. What a hodge-podge of stuff. In I went. What I found was the most general of general stores I’ve ever experienced.

Vaughan’s General store has been around since 1933. “We take pride in selling a wide variety of products for almost anything you need,” said Scott Vaughan, the store’s general manager.

In the 18,000 square-foot store they sell groceries, fresh meats and produce. Across the way you’ll find drug store items next to cookers and aluminum pots,  Mason jars, cast iron cookware, cooking utensils and BBQs. Walk into another room and you’re in hardware—everything you can imagine. Also air conditioners. Then there’s the plumbing supplies, roofing materials and lumber toward the rear of the building.

Lawn and garden supplies, planting seed, fertilizer, and horse, goat, chicken, and rabbit feed are over there. Almost forgot about dog and cat supplies. Fence wire and posts are in another back room.  Heaters and farm supplies are in the next room over.  Fishing and hunting supplies are up front. The building next door is chock-a-block with furniture, appliances and flooring.
For those customers interested in the "good ole days", there are meat grinders, wax and charred wooden kegs, cast iron wood burning stoves, wash boards, wash tubs, animal traps, plow handles, mule collars, butter molds and, I’m tired of listing things, but you get the idea. 

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