Wayne Flynt, the noted Alabama historian, has it right. “Alabama,” his famous passage goes, “is like a disease. Once it infects a person, it is hard to cure the ailment.” So chalk me up as one who suffers from this malady, has sought relief, and has failed miserably to find a remedy.

As with baldness, I’m stuck with it.

Which isn’t a bad thing, of course.

Alabama’s low cost of living, wonderful weather — the danged drought notwithstanding — mostly pleasant people and sweaty love affair with college sports make it a pretty fair place to reside. If only we could stop making the same, senseless mistakes over and over and over — anyone who’s studied Alabama history knows what I’m talking about — it would be about perfect.

Makes visiting places a heap of fun.

I like college towns, so Tuscaloosa and Auburn usually are a gas.

I like — umm, love — most types of seafood, so any trip to the Alabama coast is worth suffering through that snore of a drive down Interstate 65.

I like Huntsville’s aura: its space-age heritage, the attitude of its citizenry, just something you don’t get elsewhere.

Birmingham? Lived there once. Montgomery? It’s the state capital, plus you can’t ignore its historical value.

Even Florence (W.C. Handy Music Festival), Decatur (the Alabama Jubilee) and Fort Payne (hey, it’s halfway to Chattanooga!) are worth the effort.

But Dothan? Dothan?

Never driven through it. Never stayed overnight in it. Never even thought much about it other than it seems stuck in the middle of nowhere, so far removed from the rest of us that it might as well be annexed by Florida. Nothing personal or unfair; it’s just an interminable drive, and for what?

Well, you can guess what’s coming next.

I’m heading to Dothan.

Wanna go?

Call it a twist of fate. My son’s gotta go, the rest of my family’s signed on for this little excursion, and if I want to keep a semblance of household peace — and avoid the deadbeat-dad label — I must follow suit.

So Dothan it is.

Oh, and the fate part?

Apparently, I need to go.

From what I’ve learned the last few days, Dothan may indeed be in the middle of nowhere, but it’s not the Gadsden of southeast Alabama. In fact, what’s piqued my curiosity is the comparison between Houston County — in which most of Dothan rests, if you’re not up to speed on your Dothan geography — and Calhoun County. And, as you can imagine, seeing the list of things there that are not here.

Dothan’s in the Bible; not our Dothan, of course. Genesis 37:17.

Dothan’s close to Fort Rucker — 20 miles or so — so it can claim military township, or enough so that those of us in Anniston, a former military town, won’t quibble much.

Dothan has an airport. Unlike Anniston’s, it actually has commercial flights.

Quick test: Name a famous Dothanite. Here’s a few: Johnny Mack Brown, the former Crimson Tide and movie star; Bill Baxley, the former lieutenant governor; Heather Whitestone, the former Miss America; Artis Gilmore, the former pro basketball standout.

And, don’t forget, the Circle City is the home of all things peanut.

This week, as fate would have it, Dothan is hosting the National Peanut Festival — has since 1938 — that, organizers claim, honors peanut growers and “celebrates the harvest season.” Why Dothan? Because about 50 percent of the peanuts grown in the United States each year are harvested within a 100-mile radius of Dothan. The festival has, among other things, a beauty pageant — Miss National Peanut Festival and Little Miss National Peanut Festival — a parade, concerts and, presumably, ready-to-eat peanuts.

There’s also a Peanut Monument, which proclaims Dothan as the peanut capital of the world, and a “Peanuts Around Town” public art display that houses five-foot tall peanut sculptures, all decorated and spread across the city.

Can’t wait to see that.

Actually, I can’t.

The sickness that Flynt so eloquently describes has taken me to many Alabama locales: Opp and Gordo, Arab and Andalusia, Lafayette and Fayette, Guin and Winfield, with Gu-Win stuck in between. But it’s never taken me to Dothan, which apparently is an expanding, developing south Alabama city of about 65,000 people that’s doing more things right than it is wrong. Maybe it’s my fault that I’ve never been smart enough to see this on my own.

So Dothan it is. We’re off to explore Houston County, and see if that part of Alabama knows something our part doesn’t.

It’s worth the effort, don’t you think?

About Phillip Tutor: Phillip Tutor is the commentary editor. He was formerly The Star’s managing editor, news editor, sports editor and sports columnist. He lives in Golden Springs with his wife and two children.

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