Me driving the RV. Terrifying. Jolting and fish-tailing down 95 south, we made it to the Williamsburg campground without incident. Unless you count m pressing the gas pedal while Jeff was only half on-board, almost amputating his left leg. Well, almost doesn’t count.

After dinner at Cracker Barrel, where Justin exclaimed, “This mac and cheese is from Heaven,” we made camp under a clear, star-filled Virginia sky and sang with the cicadas.

Tomorrow we take in some colonial American history.