Tsali - Part 2

I arrived at the campsite around 6pm or so, after a hellish drive through Atlanta. I'd left in the morning about the time the rest of the family hit the door for work, maybe 7:45 or so, and didn't arrive at the Tsali campground until nearly 2 hours after my expected arrival time. Apparently the thing to do in Atlanta is to buy an old crappy American sedan, preferably one with questionable government fleet maintenance lineage, then jack the thing up to the stratosphere like Grave Digger, paint the POS with rattle cans stuffed with a tasty shade of pea green - metallic please - and then careen around on Interstate 75 until the 28 inch wheels fall off. Which they did.
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5 lanes of northbound traffic, all a vital component of the Interstate system and one of two major commercial arteries for moving goods north into the central Mississippi basin from marine shipping facilities in Florida, all drawn to a complete stop because nobody in the south, ANY state in the south, wants a safety inspection process for private vehicles. 2 other cars were involved in the accident, all of normal altitude and all having appropriately sized wheels and tires. Luckily, it looked as if there were no injuries. And nobody plugged into the back of my EWR laden truck in the resulting stop-and-go traffic...a fear all cyclists have when their bikes are hanging off the back of their vehicles. Unless I'm stopping by Matt's house on my way through, I won't be taking the Atlanta route again. That place is just plain foolish.
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When I arrived I found a nice healthy group of the usual suspects all waiting with grins on their faces and beers in their hands.
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Chris
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Caroline

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Paul

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Of course I was there...

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and Morgan

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and lastly...Matt!

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or maybe Matt!...Who can tell?!