Several months ago, I was celebrating a weekend in Charleston with my cousins and sister, pigging out and drinking far more than my parents would like to be aware of. The occasion has since become much less celebratory, since my enlistment into the U.S. Army didn't actually happen, but a lot of memories were created on the trip. One of which is the distinct moment at The Noisy Oyster, when I was thoroughly enjoying a plate of Seafood Au Gratin, and happily informing my family that all it would take for a guy to steal my heart would be scallops... And, as a Cinderella-style carriage clopped by donned in a million tiny Christmas baubles - twinkly lights.
Both are symbols to me, with a much deeper sentimental meaning to them... but hell, I love scallops. And twinkly lights are just so freakin' pretty.
So, with this in mind, I was informed several weeks ago by the sole person I tend to mention in every post (mostly because he's probably the only person who actually reads the damn thing) that we were going to see Fantasy in Lights. Since donning the presidential crown of his car club, he turned the ordeal into a club event, and scheduled it for last Saturday, Dec 1st.
Fantasy in Lights is a mountain resort, decorated with Christmas lights, outfitted with festive music, complete with a little santa-hat-sprinkled village... and it runs year round. Don't ask me why.
With a short pit stop at a restaurant Matt enjoyed when he was stationed at Fort Benning last year to break up the 3 1/2 hours cooped up in a series of super hot muscle cars, we embarked. And got lost. And embarked again. And got lost again. Needless to say, directions and signage left something to be desired. Like an electric shock to somebody's cranial cavity. WHY would you construct such a nationally famed event, and not put up directions? Or a charming wee elf, clinging to a "drive here so you don't lose your mind" arrow. WHY? Ask me if it was worth it. Go ahead.
Here's an indication: We were half-way through and I had taken 172 photos. So, uh, yea. You're freakin' right it was.
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| Located in Pine Mountain, GA, Fantasy in Lights sports over 8 million lights, including 15 festive scenes. |
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| The Christmas Village dons a new theme of Main Street this year, half of it being a forest of pines decorated with Christmas ornaments for sale, varying from sports parafenalia to the Nutcracker. |
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| A tiered table displayed nutcrackers built for a variety of hobbies. This one made me think of my dad and his snow-skiing obsession. |
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| I told you he grins when he's driving. I finally caught it! |
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| In addition to the twinkly lights, Carraway Gardens washed their natural habitat in colorful lights for extra effect. |
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| Several scenes for animated with rocking horses, flying balloons, marching soldiers, and even a santa-hat frog hopping into a pond. |
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| This scene featured strings of color-changing lights, fairies and tulips, that then changed to gnomes/wizards and snowflakes. It was beyond me how it was Christmas-y but hey, it runs year round, so I'm not going to judge. |
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| Again, not sure how this is festive, but the wings of the dragonfly are made from glass, with incandescent lights shining into the cracks of the glass. How genius is that to create the glass effect of a dragonfly's wings? |
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| Another scene illustrated Santa's workshop, with elves testing and wrapping toys. |
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| My favorite scene began with this view, a large tree light up with tiny white lights. |
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| With a view over a lake, lights of snowflakes reflecting in the still water. |
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| Then moved into a sea of tiny lights hanging from the tree branches above. |
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| Literally thousands of lights made up the winter wonderland. |
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| I know what you're thinking. Heather, where is your flash? Well, there were dozens of cars zipping by us, and I thought perhaps my ridiculously bright flash might cause a car accident. And quite frankly, I'm fairly certain if I caused something tragic to any of these cars, I would probably be lettered and scaffolded. |
With everyone awed and speechless at all the pretties, we lined up the cars and I did my best to take a few extremely high ISO photos. A short stop to fill up and we hit the road to make the long trip from Pine Mountain back to Augusta. It was a quiet ride, the radio not bleeping it's way through the clubs odd commentaries at - well, anything - as usual. Matt and I chatted about something I can't recall, Mr. President leading the pack with his beloved Challenger, Irene. We were taking it a little slower than usual - actually going the speed limit for once, down I-20. Matt and the rest of Augusta Mopar were coasting behind a sedan in the left lane. Finally tiring of the sedan's disdain for the gas pedal, Matt changed lanes. Straight into a busted tire taking up residence in the middle of the three-lane interstate. Shanking off of Irene's driver's side bumper, the blasted rubber flipped back into a friend's black and silver Challenger behind us. Ensue a couple seconds of expletives and panic, we assessed that we were all ok, and pulled over to pray there was no damage.
No such luck. Our friend, Mark's car was chewed up, the front bumper, mid-stripe, had been shredded just below the grill. The sub-grill (I think that's what it was called) was cracked on the passenger side, and the passenger side fog light had been popped out of place. Irene's damage seemed to be minimal. Her sub-grill had been ripped from the driver's side corner, but we were informed it would be an inexpensive fix. Surprisingly, Matt remained calm.
Until we took Irene into the doctor yesterday morning. As should be done with any accident, we took Irene in for a check-up, just to be sure she was ok under the hood. As it turns out, Irene had some "internal bleeding" that we couldn't see before. The compressor was damaged, a fuel line had a slight scratch, and some other stuff had sustained damage that was totaling to over $1,000 in repairs. Oi.
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| Took this one with my phone at the mechanic when we dropped Irene off for her treatment. |
I'm going to be super nice to Matt until Irene gets a clean bill of health. His baby is sick and she's having to stay at the doctor's until insurance pulls through and she can get patched up. No car lover would wish that on him. And even though I'm not a car lover, I know how much he adores Irene. I'm pretty sure I'm one of the few things that outranks her in his life... and even that's pushing it.
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