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That weed in the middle is a palmetto tree. There’s a story behind it. If I’ve counted correctly, this is Part 8 of the Wolseley Across America saga. It only took me this long to figure out that I’d better number these things or it is hard to figure out which ones to read in which order. Sorry for the brain fade.  And while we’re on administrative matters, I need to apologize for any spelling and grammar errors that creep into the articles. They are all my own doing and not the responsibility of our host. They’re just printing what I send them. I do go over them several times before pressing the “send” button – and immediately seeing at least one error I missed. (I don’t know why it is so hard to proofread on screen!)  One more item and then on with the show. For those of you outside of the U.S., I apologize for some of the references that might be a bit obscure. I tried to figure out an easy way of writing the articles so everyone could understand. Unfortunately, that either makes them way too long (some are already saying they’re too long!) or it makes them too boring. If you have any questions, email me and I’ll fill you in as best I can. The same concept applies for references that will show up from time to time involving measurements. Temperature will be listed in degrees Fahrenheit, distance in miles and gasoline in US gallons. The conversions aren’t hard. I will, however, usually fall into Mini-speak when referring to car parts (boot, not trunk, for example), but other than that American English it is. Comprenez-vous?!  SAVANNAH TO CHARLESTON When we left off, it was early Monday afternoon on the 14th and I was leaving Savannah and Georgia behind, and in a good deal better shape than General Sherman did. (Next time I’ll spend more time. Savannah deserves it.)  The map was clear about the route. Go up here, turn left and then turn right onto Highway 17 -- a much better way than I-95. Nope. I’m down here and that road going above me to the bridge over the Savannah River is where I need to be. It was almost one of those “you can’t get there from here” situations. Eventually, I got it sorted with only a couple “Tourist Moves” and away I went. (Tourist moves are things like U-turns and driving in the center lane of the freeway so you are prepared to exit either direction. In England there is also the “go around the roundabout, again” move.)  Just across the bridge was a very polite sign welcoming me into South Carolina, and it was placed where (with only two Tourist Moves) I was able to park the Mini and get a photograph.  A new State. In order to drive from Savannah to Charleston you have to enter and cross a good deal of South Carolina, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Every State has its good and bad characteristics and all are interesting. OK, some can make an argument against New Jersey or North Dakota, but trust me, look and you’ll find beauty and places of interest everywhere.  Time for the mini geography and history lesson. If this bores you, skip ahead. I’ll warn you, however, that the actual Mini content in this and the next couple of articles is minimal. Because of my unknown departure time from Miami, the late posting of what was happening, and my route (especially in N.C.), I didn’t manage to hook up with any of the many Mini owners in Georgia, South Carolina or North Carolina (the first time through). They are out there!  South Carolina being the 40th ranked State in size is quite a bit smaller than Florida and Georgia. Its 31,000 square miles puts it about 53% the size of the other two. And with a population of about 3,760,000 it has only 25% of that of Florida. Population density is similar, if maybe a little less than Georgia and less than one half of Florida’s, as would be expected. (If you want an interesting exercise for another Southern State, run the numbers for Mississippi.)  If you’re following along in your song books, I took 17 north out of Savannah to 170 then followed that toward Beaufort (that’s Bu’-frt, in case you’re wondering), but turned off a little early onto 280. That runs into 21, which runs into 17, which runs smack dab into Charleston. Most of the earlier parts of the route are interesting (but it wouldn’t hurt to turn down the heat and humidity a bit!), and worth the little extra time it might take. Once onto 17 near Charleston, it becomes just another road into a big town. I did find the following on one of the back roads and thought I’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in Wisconsin!  EG saw elephants in South Africa smaller than this!  I drove on through Charleston over the Ashley and Cooper Rivers (nope, another Cooper – one named Ashley Cooper, as a matter of fact. A relative perhaps?), and found a place to stay in Mt. Pleasant. The motels are cheaper!  To finish off the day, a BBQ place was recommended to me within walking distance so I chanced it. On the way to Miami we stopped several times trying to find good, Southern BBQ. The best was the first one (The Rendezvous downstairs off an alley in the middle of Memphis) and none had measured up since. This one didn’t, either. And what is with this Sweet Tea? This part of the country assumes that if you ask for iced tea you want it so sweet you can’t taste anything but slightly funny tasting sugar water. It is much like what the English do to hot tea. If you dump enough milk into it you can’t taste the tea but you get a cup of hot milk that doesn’t taste quite right. Anyway, the BBQ may have been better than I gave it credit for, but the sweet tea I was served put me off!  Thus ended Monday night the 14th, not counting the planning for the next day. (Based on what I had read I had decided to stay a full day in Charleston, a decision I don’t regret at all.)  I arranged for a taxi to meet me at 8:30 Tuesday morning for a ride to the tour boat docks. The ride was only about $10 and I figured that would save me having to navigate my own way through a strange city (and I mean that in the nicest way) and pay for a day’s worth of parking. The tour went out to Fort Sumter where most people think the first shots of the Civil War were fired (they weren’t) and where the inspiration for the national anthem came about. What was this guy thinking? Eventually, one takes a bad poem celebrating war and mixes it with an even worse English drinking song and, voila, you have a national anthem that no one can sing. There is no accounting for history, or taste. But I rant…The tour is worth the ride and helps put some perspective on this early battleground. And it was a pleasant boat ride as well, looking at all the beautiful houses along the waterfront and watching the pelicans dive for fish. That has to hurt! Photographs? I’d love to oblige, but someone forgot to check the camera batteries before leaving and they managed one photo at the dock and none at the fort. Fire that someone.  Once back on land I bought batteries (two sets of good, fully charged batteries in the motel room and I’m spending money on throw-aways!), and then caught an old looking trolley to the Visitor’s Center. (The trolley turned out to be an old bus in disguise.) The V.C. was nice, had some good displays and an informative, if somewhat “artsy” slide show about Charleston.  Charleston, or Charles Towne as it was known then (named for King Charles the Mk II version), wasn’t started where it is today. (Careful, now. I’m sneaking in a bit more history.) The Charlestonians cheat about 10 years and say it started in 1670, but it really was built a short distance away and relocated. We’ll forgive them the 10 years. We’ll also forgive them for thinking that the Atlantic Ocean is formed where the two rivers (Ashley and Cooper) come together.  Charles Towne ended up in the Revolutionary War whether it wanted to or not, and fought off the nasty British until about 1780. In 1782, the British left the former colonies, licking their wounds and a year or so later, the new city of Charleston was incorporated. And here’s where the palmetto tree shows up (remember WAY back at the beginning of this article – the flag?). During one of the battles at Fort Moultrie (just one of a bunch of forts in the area), the fort was fortified using logs from palmetto trees (along with sand and probably anything else that was handy – “Say, Sam, would you mind laying down right over there for a while?”). The trees did a good job of absorbing the bombardment from the English ships, so, in the memory of their great sacrifice, they ended up on the State flag. An orange on Florida’s. A peach on Georgia’s. Why not a palmetto tree on South Carolina’s?  By Civil War time, South Carolina became a Southern leader and at the end of 1860 when Lincoln was elected (but not yet sworn into office) it was the first State to decide it was better off not being part of the Union. Oh, and it was in this harbor where the Confederate submarine the Hunley sunk. It is the one you’ve probably read about just recently being raised.  The rest of the afternoon I spent on a couple of self-guided walking tours of the many interesting and beautiful houses and buildings before I taxied back to the hotel. I swear I walked enough that I was two inches shorter by the time I finished. I’ll not bore you with the details (I will attempt to bore you with a couple of photos), but I can’t stress enough that you make an effort to see Charleston’s beauty. And friendly! Southern hospitality is alive and well in Charleston  I’m not too fond of the color, but it fits and looks right in this city. This is a type of style known as the Single House. It looks like it has been turned sideways and the main entry is on one side of the house. Many of these beautiful places had partially hidden, but beautiful small gardens. Just one small section of the houses along the waterfront.  Tuesday the 15th ended with me trying to figure out my schedule so that I could stay another day, but it wasn’t to be. The 16th I was to continue north into North Carolina and head for the Outer Banks. The encounter with a Marine tank wasn’t part of the plan!