Marsh monsters - Mim memory

Back in 1969, there were still unfinished stretches of I-95, which meant Mim & I saw parts of South Carolina & Georgia that motorists just zoom past today.  

It was on just such a stretch of road that we started looking for a place to have lunch.  I remember pointing out a place to Mim, which she gaboshed - to the best of my memory, there was a blue light on it, which (per Mim) meant "blacks only."  

We went past a sign for Mossy Oaks, which Mim suggested but I gave a thumbs down - had seen a sign for a place called Speck's that seemed even more promising.

Come on - the name should have tipped me off.  Not very Southern.  But I figured, in my fevered teen brain, that Mossy Oaks was probably a tourist trap & Speck's was a place favored by locals.

Forever after, "Speck's" would be a code word for a disappointing experience.  It was awful.  Over twenty years later, when John & I had a spectacularly awful meal at the now defunct East Amwell Diner, I described it as "worthy of Speck's."  

Of course, when we drove past Mossy Oaks, ten minutes down the road, it looked like everything we had hoped for!  

The hands-down WORST section of the drive, to & from the launch, was the portion of Rt. 17 that took us through Brunswick, Georgia.  To this day, I have never smelled anything so bad as driving through that town.  No idea idea at the time why it smelled so gosh awful (combination fabric mills & marshland), but am wincing just remembering the odors.  Driving through the foul stench seemed compounded by it being night time.  And we were already a tad unnerved.


As mentioned, there were still long stretches where we had to get off of & back on I-95.  There were also long stretches of I-95 just opened but still unlit.  No street lamps.  

That was one weird experience - driving on a newly opened super highway without any lights.  Oh, and there was no moon.  We drove through what felt like endless stretches of Georgia with an invisible road ahead of us & what felt like vast swaths of marshland stretching out on either side of us.  

It felt that way because there were.  It creeped us out in a strangely satisfying way.  We knew the spine-tingling experience was only possible for the short time between the interstate opening & the new lights installed, so we savored it as a historic happening that couldn't be replicated within just a few months.  We swapped stories about marsh monsters, having a grand time.  A camp fire experience in Dad's van, heading down to an Apollo launch.

Life was very good.