KUDZU!

Koala -- all fixed! Still a clunker, but at least a chilled clunker with a working air conditioner.




We left from Plainsboro a few days ago, and had J to help us pack the car. Yesterday, he sent us a few of the photos from the Great Send-Off.

Now some notes from the road, beginning with another edition of Ben's Quick Travel Tips: Don't leave gummy peaches in the secret compartment on your dashboard, even if they are seemingly contained in their original package.


This morning began in Knoxville, Tennessee, where we drove past monstrous kudzu vines overtaking all things standing, and confederate flags flapping inexplicably in the lolling breeze on the sides of the highway.

Whole Foods has undeniably invaded the glove wherein the invisible hand of supply and demand flexes its inscrutable muscle. Evidence for this can be found in strip malls across the country. Don't believe me? Check out this gem we found in Knoxville:

The Colonial New England-sounding "public house" we envisioned dining at in Nashville had been retrofitted into a faux-Irish bar (damn!), which led us to reconsider toward what we should direct our nostalgia. Let's just say that the thrill is not gone...


We enjoyed some fried pickles, of course. When in Rome. And throw in a sweet tea for good measure.


For those of you who have no idea what that might taste like, purchase some Pringles that are flavored by dill and vinegar. And add a little squishy texture. Oddly delicious.



Yes, that is a painting of Eric Clapton behind Meg. (And her 'megacephalic' Kennedy cranium obscured a portrait of Jimi Hendrix.) I was very jazzed to see a real-live vintage Hammond organ on the bar stage. Too bad we didn't get real live music at lunch time, though we did get to listen to a live version of "Fingertips, pt.2".

Our very relaxed-yet-serious waiter (who kept instructing us to yell for him using a dizzying array of synonyms for that vocal act) informed us that, although they were good and listed as an entre on the lunch menu, fried pickles were most often consumed as a bar-food appetizer--and that those served as B.B.'s were not much better than, say, those served at Hooter's down the street. We'll take his word for it.





Nashville has a serious AT&T presence, as revealed by the Mormon Temple-looking corporate building. It was gigantic and worthy of note.



As if all of this wasn't evidence enough of having left the Pioneer Valley, things got "political" on us.

Of course this made us throw up in our mouths a little bit. But what we saw next made us want to retreat slowly and carefully so as to escape undetected. In a Subaru with Massachusetts plates and Grateful Dead stickers containing two overeducated twenty-somethings wearing Crocs and listening to NPR podcasts.



We got the hell out of rhinestone cowboy cum Kieth Urban metropolis (although the homeless saxaphone player sounded upbeat with a monophonic melody outside the parking garage) and opted out of touring through plantations where human beings were treated as property fewer than two centuries ago. I got more excited about the music than the "heritage not hatred" train, and looked forward to seeing Sun Studio and the Rock and Soul Museum and Graceland and all that Gibson greatness of Memphis.

SPOILER ALERT:
Here is a picture of me driving Meg and our possessions as fast as possible across the muddy Mississippi.


Long story short, Memphis is sketchy as hell. The visitor's center is nicer than most new public libraries, although its competent staff give off weird vibes. The weird vibes continue into the downtown area and through the many different hotels and motels we considered staying at. Off smells, conspicuously located and semi-camouflaged medical facilities, ubiquitous private security guards who looked like junkies (excellent call, Matt, on whether or not their presence makes you feel "safer"), gate structures for condos WITHOUT GATES (!?) and thousands of run-down churches and loitering individuals. I am usually up for a scare and a risk and an adventure, and I basically told Meg that I wasn't feeling so safe or comfortable in this vicinity. To illustrate, we were looking through the prepared foods section of a Wild Oats / Whole Foods and just left without getting anything. There was just something so weird about the place...it really got me thinking about whether or not the Devil had taken over--and not the cool Tenacious D Pick of Destiny Devil, but something more like a pale and inimical-to-life thin-lipped vampire (Bush the Elder?). I have no idea what this has to do with the birth or death of rock and/or roll, but I know that the gigantic reflective pyramid at the heart of town got me thinking about all kinds of occult evil Illuminati Egyptian conspiracies. It was really that weird.

Suffice it to say, I don't think I'll ever be as glad to reach Arkansas. And so here we are, in North Little Rock, watching the Olympics. Tomorrow: Hot Springs and a westward haul. Mileage-wise, we're more than halfway toward our destination. Onward ho!