One year ago today: January 10, 2019, lots of reading.
Five years ago today: January 10, 2015, a difference of $10.
Nine years ago today: January 10, 2011, why gaskets cost so much.
Random years ago today: January 10, 2007, fix that flat.
7:11 AM Left Hermitage driving east toward Cookeville, then south along a pleasantly deserted Highway 111. Unlike Florida, Tennessee has a road system that is well-maintained and clearly marked. The real feature is most of the roads have only one name, and by golly, it is the same name that appears on Google maps and your GPS. It is a gorgeous morning, warm for Tennessee, but overcast with a northwest wind off the prairies that says big storm coming.
8:11 AM
9:11 AM I got in the wrong lane and took a ten-mile detour. To get back to 111, I followed the robot voice through a place called Hodgson’s Bridge. That was the picturesque part of the journey. If I’d had time, I would have walked around a few places. It’s your typical Americana, old rural atmosphere dying off as the kids leave and the new people coming in don’t share any values. Got there Beemer in front of the faux cabin replete with satellite dish. There really is a bridge and a nice river.
I passed that valley with the big view, looking for the name to give you some map directions. Hmmm, no name, unless it is called East Valley. That’s what the road signs told me. It is a pleasant trip this time, Tennessee in the dead of winter. Once you get an idea what to look for, it is nice enough in a storybook kind of way. Making great time, I decided not to stop in Soddy-Daisy. I just happen to like the name and one day I’ll pull in there, find a mom & pop, and order the pancakes. Because I never could cook pancakes.
Lake Tekapo.
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Through Chattanooga and on toward Atlanta, and the bottleneck has already begun. By unknown coincidence, I’ve stopped a number of times at this town called Dalton, Georgia. There’s nothing to recommend the place and even the gas pumps are super slow. My GPS said they had a Wal*Mart, which carries the cassettes. This one didn’t. It is a food market, the sign says Wal*Mart Neighborhood. For cassettes, you need a Wal*Mart Supercenter, and you know the story of trying to find a Wal*mart by GPS. Don’t bother asking the employees, because they’ll yank out a iPhone and those are even worse.
When you swing open the fridge door, it bumps the table. I always thought something was going to happen to it. I found all the pieces and glued them back together, which as you know is never like new. Not even close to the advertising claims. Anyway, a couple months later, the Reb tells me how in ancient China, they used to fill the cracks in broken porcelain with gold. I gave her my very best “that’s interesting” look.
Here’s the plaque she got me for Xmas. With Memphis II in the corner. I average 75 mph through the rest of Georgia, stopping only to check the levels and add some transmission fluid. That stretch between Atlanta and Valdosta is an empty place. Like Saskatchewan, signs but no town. However east of the mountains, the weather improved instantly and I’m passing miles of pine forest. No radio stations, I’m still listening to the audio book, which finally picks up when the ex-husband is shot to death. Everybody is a suspect, since he was about as popular as a liberal between paydays.
It got dark around 6:00PM EST, bringing up my old motorcycle aversion to driving. Of course, I had to call the Reb to let her know I was turning on the A/C. I took exit 321 to CR (County Road) 471 and promptly lost my headstart caught behind an oil truck driving under the speed limit. There is no convenient north-south road down the center of Florida. Unless you know the back roads, you can’t get to my place. That means I’ll have to meet Taylor at the airport. I got back into town after 13.5 hours, not all of it driving time. To find $659 of bills waiting for me.
So, I unloaded the car and drove further south to Bartow, to find they’ve renovated the old club, sort of. They lengthened the bar at the end where nobody sits. And a new duo playing what sounded like the same song all night long. Some guy and some lady, mics on full bass & full reverb. You could not make out what they were saying between vocals. She sang lead, he played guitar and sang harmonies. I paid attention to see how they handled the instrumental passages. Not so well, because he had his guitar rigged up with a chorus pedal sound. I use that, but sparingly. I found the act encouraging because where he outplays my strumming, they cannot touch my show for entertainment value. Once again, a great band, but not many people paying attention. This does not happen at my show.
