Alabama’s Highway 52
I have made no secret of my insatiable desire to travel every nook and cranny of the Southeast looking for the perfect fried chicken and interesting places.
A weekend road trip through the back roads of the Florida panhandle or southeast Alabama is powerful medicine for a weary soul. Plus, I love Southerners. I am one after all, and it doesn’t take much to amuse me.
Two of our favorite traveling partners are my brother-in-law and sister. Last week, they hosted a trip down Route 52, the southern most east-west highway along the Alabama-Florida line.
When I heard the itinerary, I knew it would be tough to top. We can be a bit competitive and it would be up to me to plan the next trip. Their plan would take us through Chipley (at the Wal-mart, of course), Bonifay, Geneva, Samson, Florala, Paxton, and culminating in Ponce De Leon for lunch.
Our first stop was a hardware store in Geneva, Alabama. We were looking for Case pocket knives. Some people are real particular about their knives and my brother-in-law is one of them. The knife must be a Case and it must be carbon steel, not stainless.
He claims that you are supposed to take the new knife and place the carbon blades in a potato and leave it for several days or at least until the steel changes color. Sounds silly to me too, but, none the less, he has always done it that way. I have learned through the years not to question his wisdom because he is smarter than me and is normally right about things like that.
He was right about the hardware store in Geneva… this was a great store to explore. Upon entering, we were met by a young clerk.
“Hey, uh, y’all watch out for the birds. Can I help y’all find something?”
I looked up in the rafters and sure enough, there were parakeets flying around.
“You mean look out for the bird crap, right?”
“Yeah, it can get messy but the customers like the birds.”
Who am I to question the wisdom of the Geneva, Alabama, clientèle?
“He is looking for knives and I am just looking,” I explained.
“Hey man, I got something to show you.”
The sales boy led me to a non-descript side room, took out his keys, and opened the door. I walked in behind him to find an array of low end acoustic and electric guitars and an assortment of collectable knives.
“My, my,” I said. “How did you know I love guitars?”
He looked at me a bit funny and I realized that he was showing me the knives, not the guitars. But the guitars had my attention. I took them off the rack one by one to try them out.
I didn’t quite understand why the owners would lock up the guitars because they were not that expensive. Then it occurred to me that the lock was not for burglars but rather the birds. I am sure the sound holes in the guitars would have made tempting nests for the parakeets.
I meandered a bit longer while my brother-in-law paid for the knives. I found wood burning stoves, beer making supplies, and all sorts of non-typical merchandise.
Continuing west on Highway 52, we stopped at Dukes Meat Market a few miles outside of Samson, Alabama. This is one of my favorite places to buy sausage and bacon. They still make it the old fashioned way with heavy hickory smoke flavoring.
The Dukes don’t get in a hurry while you wait for your order to be wrapped, but it is worth the wait. I always buy a whole slab of bacon and 5 to 10 pounds of their link sausage. They also make homemade beef jerky, hickory smoked, or course.
I am addicted to pork. I am not supposed to eat it. I know it will kill me. I can’t help it. I just sleep better at night knowing that I have sausage and bacon from Duke’s in my freezer. Truth is, I never met a piece of pork I didn’t like and nobody does it better than Duke’s.
After Duke’s, we headed west on Highway 54 to Florala, Alabama, then turned south to Paxton, Florida. My brother-in-law was saving the best for last. We arrived at an old agriculture building to a medley of barnyard noise. It was the Paxton farmer’s auction.
We rendezvoused with my brother-in-law’s cousin who owns a farm outside of Florala. He had told us about the auction and knew it was right up our alley. It was south Alabama culture in its purest form and I mean that it the most respectful way. I love farming and farmers.
Housed in two large covered buildings were hundreds of chickens, roosters, ducks, geese, pigs, rabbits, goats, and turkeys. We walked over to see what all the fuss was about and heard this incredible chorus of barnyard opera amid the distinct aroma of barnyard dung. The geese were honking, the roosters crowing, the chickens clucking.
I was tempted to record the crowing and clucking for a cell phone ring tone but feared my phone might ring at an important corporate meeting or some other place a chicken cantata would not be appreciated.
A Rhode Island Red rooster eyed me suspiciously and stopped crowing as I approached his cage. I was convinced he knew of my reputation as a fried chicken connoisseur and he was sizing me up… in case he had to defend himself. The hens and fryers, however, clucked frantically as I approached their cages. So much so, I fled the building for fear I would overly stress the chickens and anger the farmers. My reputation apparently precedes me.
I was insulted and felt incredibly unwelcome among the fowl. With the scent of Duke’s still clinging to my clothes, I dared not visit the swine.
Outside, an auctioneer was chanting at the patrons as he auctioned off a wide assortment of tools, swings, bird houses, and anything else piled in the back of pickup trucks and trailers. It was a feast for the eyes and ears. I could have bought a lamp for one dollar, a garbage barrel for four, or a bungee cord for a quarter. I didn’t need any of it but a bargain is a bargain.
Merchandise was flying. I couldn’t quite figure out how everyone was keeping up with the bidding and buying. It was unfolding very quickly.
“Don’t raise your hand or make any sudden gestures.” I told my granddaughter who was standing beside me.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because the auctioneer will think you are bidding on what ever it is he is selling and I don’t want to go home with a goat.”
Luckily, we left before the meat, I mean animal, auction started.
We drove through DeFuniak Springs for hot dogs at H&M but the Chautauqua was well underway and the town was a bit crowded. So, we drove Highway 90 east to Ponce De Leon. There was a restaurant we have never tried on Highway 81 south of town.
Normally, I would have ordered fried chicken but after inhaling a poultry bouquet earlier, I settled for a handmade, homemade hamburger. We all had hamburgers. It took an hour and there were only two other tables with customers. The burgers were good but the long wait spoiled the lunch. I will not go back.
So, this would be my advantage for the next trip.
It was a great road trip. I will have to do better when I take my turn as host. I will keep you posted.
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About Me
The life of any News Director is stressful most days... so, when the weekend rolls around I find myself on the back roads of our bountiful and beautiful part of the state looking for bluegrass music, interesting things to do, and, of course, fried chicken. I will try to share some of these "finds" with you. There are a thousand stories left to be told or simply remembered. Don't expect to find them all here; maybe just a little stroll down memory lane or maybe a little skewed insight into topical issues.
Larche Hardy,
News Director
All My Entries:
- Nashville Bluegrass at IBMA
- Marty Raybon and Georgia Bluegrass
- Curse of the Acoustic Guitar
- A Millville Hero
- Bluegrass at BAMA JAM a hit!
- Bird watching not a bore
- No Poet Laureate
- Let the Bluegrass begin
- Hurry Spring
- Alabama’s Highway 52
- Cell Phone Interuptus
- Bellying up to the bar
- Resolutions are Doomed to Failure
- Bah-dad-gum-Humbug
- A hunting we will go!
- Hot Stuff!
- My new camo hat… A bargain at $34
- The Road Trip
- “If you don’t want to make the news, just don’t do it.”
- Hostage
- Not a Cat Person
- Hollywood - Here I don’t come…
- Found: a cure for the blues…
- It won’t be long…
- Not Enough Historical Markers, I say…
- Evolution takes many forms
- Revisiting Vernon
- All I know is that it’s hot…
- I Love Slocomb
- The Not-So-Casual Traveler
- The Casual Historian
Other News13 Blogs:
- The Casual Historian - Larche Hardy
- Derby Girl - Enocha Van Lierop
- The Newby - Jessi Chapin
- Gainesville, Georgia's All American Girl - Tuquyen Mach
