South Carolina. The distant backroads. I am driving in the deep forest, stuck behind an asthmatic pickup.
The truck is a ‘78 Ford. F-100. Two-tone. Brown and vanilla. Five liter engine. Probably a three-speed manual. I know this because my old man drove the same truck.
The Ford travels 49 mph. The driver is in no hurry. His arm is hanging out the window. And I’m transfixed by his license plate.
The South Carolina license tag has a motto printed on it. The motto is located at the top, in white text. Just beside the $640 registration sticker.
“While I breathe, I hope,” says the adage.
I’ve never known a more beautifully optimistic state motto. Especially when you consider some of the other state mottos.
Such as North Carolina’s motto: “Esse quam videri,” which means, literally, “To be, rather than to seem.” Which sounds like the Walmart version of a Bill Shakespeare quote.
California’s motto is one word: “Eureka!” Idaho’s is, “Let it be perpetual.” Florida’s state motto is: “Ask about our grandkids.”
But I like the Carolina
license plate slogan. Namely, because not long ago, the doctor thought I had cancer.
I went through a long miniseries of misery, only to find out that I’m okay.
Still, the year itself was double, double toil and trouble. Within that year, I lost six friends to the C-word. And one to suicide. I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown.
But here I am, 12 months later, driving South Carolinian backroads. My dog is in the passenger seat. The sun is blaring through the windshield. Kris Kristofferson is singing on a staticky AM station.
I am still alive. And the Eighth State couldn’t look any nicer.
It’s funny. I've always heard South Carolina is an arrestingly gorgeous place. But until today, I’ve only visited the touristy destinations. I’m like any other American Joe Six-Pack. I’ve only seen the usual…