Now you can have an image of a place before you see it. Somehow I imagined Warm Springs in Georgia to be a sweet little spa town - something like a miniature Bath, perhaps. It is, after all, the site of President Franklin Roosevelt's Little White House, where he went for treatments for polio and he surely had enough dosh to be discriminating. Well, either the quality of the waters made up for everything else, or it's changed out of all recognition. There is still a spa but it's part of a rehabilitation centre and you can't get to it. Which, I suppose is fair enough.
And it did start quite promisingly with a Victorian tea room ...
...and some gift shoppes, housed in olde buildings.
All very cutesy. All very samey and all very pricey. I liked this sign, though.
Then I went for a little wander, upon which things went rapidly downhill.
Further along, I came upon the remains of an old, rusty train.
Which turned out to be another shoppe. A closed one. In fact the entire place was deserted and a cold, rainy wind added to the atmosphere.
Then I got a clue as to what this was all about.
Warm Springs is now Motorbike Heaven.
And this dingy courtyard is apparently where the bikers congregate when they're in town. But they weren't in town. No one was in town but us.
I'm not sure what the bunny's for but some of the wackanalia would have been amusing if it wasn't all so damp and gloomy.