Ah Tarheel, you need to tell them about the wonderful weather, the unbelievable mountains,shrouded in mist, marching on and on into tomorrow.

The pure mountain streams,spring fed and so cold it hurts your teeth as you drink. Wild trout dimpling the stllness of a pond just at dark,and the Whippoorwills singing his loneliness into the night.

Then you might hear the sound of a fiddle playing a tune from time out of mind. It sounds normal here.

By the way, I'm a Tarheel, too.

I'm an American by chance of birth, I am a Tarheel by the grace of God. Jeep