Sweet Home Alabama

Today was Day 3 of the Great Alabama Days!
Day one. Michael spent hours fixing the cascade of electrical things that were konking out on the truck. I picked up garbage.
Day 2. The truck battery gave a final kerplunk and he had to walk a mile to purchase a new one in order for us to ever again leave the sushi bar grease dumpster where we were parked on the edge of marvelously draping kudu (hiding the garbage.)
Day 3. While everything seemed to be looking up, with amazing surprise resurrections of both the horn and cruise control, we went by a nuclear power plant, with the quaint sign that said, “Farley Nuclear Plant- Certified Wildlife Habitat” so I asked Michael to back up so I could get a picture of it. Crunch. We backed into an employee who was about to turn into the facility.
Luckily, we must have a very benign ambiance, despite our canisters of greasy material for and aft, because not US nor Canadian customs nor sheriffs today asked us what the heck we are carrying. Here we were, creating a scene at the gates of a nuclear power facility and nada other than the usual embarrassments and regrets to show for it.
We sit here now at dusk at the Chatahoochee State Park, at the corner borders of Alabama, Georgia and Florida, discussing our next move over chips and dip. Home Sweet Swamp.
Stay safe.