Oyster fix

Reading this post over at Acidmans abode got me thinking about oysters, which immediately led to road trips.
It was back in ’85 or ’86, when I was at my utmost unemployable, irresponsible (I was 17-18). One of my good buddies had a dad who was a VP of sales for IBM. Me and a couple of other guys lived at their house. No jobs (maybe occasionally, if we were really cash-strapped). Didn’t need them since Mr and Mrs C took care of the food thing, as well as gas. Chicks took care of the rest.
It was mid to late November, about 4pm on a shitty winter afternoon, and we all decided that we needed raw oysters. Not to fuck around with that frozen shit in Atlanta, but real raw oysters. So we made the drive to the redneck riviera (Panama City Beach). The Oysters were ok, but it was the TRIP that was so fucking cool.
I travelled the eastern seaboard and southeast several times during a four year period before I settled down. Roadtrips were a hell of a lot more fun in my teens than they are now, that’s for damn sure.
Gut Rumbles