Turns out my trusty steed wasn't so trusty after all.
On the morning of the big road trip, my beautiful blue baby car was having a bit of a rough day, and all at once the radio, the tape deck (yes, the tape deck) and the cigarette-lighter-cum-ipod-and-gps-charger thingy stopped working.
Ten hours on the road. No music. No GPS. No way.
So I took my mother's Twingo instead, the nice one with leather seats and air conditioning and an engine that lets me hit 130 and a sound system I can shake my bootie to! (don't try this at home, kids)
So thanks mom!
Anyways, I made it. It was a gorgeous drive, and the south is as beautiful as ever. Although colder than I expected. But I'm supposed to be writing, not tanning, so it's all for the best, I suppose.
And writing I am. Or trying to anyways. Chapter 14 is done and dusted (turned out better than I feared) and Chapter 15 - well, chapter 15 is tricky. Because when you're telling a love story, eventually, you get to that point when you have to decide whether you're going to go down the pan-out-to-the-fireplace route, or the other one. Or somewhere in between. And those kinds of chapters always get writers in trouble. Like I said. Tricky.
Maybe in Chapter 16 I could write about Wagnerian opera or the proper way to cook brussels sprouts or something.