Number of Highways Traveled: 28
69
641
54
217
89
237
22
431
45E
43
116
307
166
125
1099
94
239
123
58
62
60
77
57
541
63
114
21
65
Number of Interstate Highways Traveled: 0
Number of Road Kills Seen: 10
Number of Near Road Kills Seen: 1
Number of Construction Zones: 5
Number of Bottles of Water Consumed: 7
Number of "Tommy Lee Sandwiches" Consumed: 4
Number of Times I Was Disappointed: 1
Number of Minis Seen: 7
Number of Cop Cars Seen: 12
Number of Tractors Seen on the Highway: 8
Number of Turtles Seen Crossing the Highway: 2
Number of Amish Horse and Buggies Seen: 4
Number of Miles Driven: 446
Number of Dollars Spent on Petrol: $57.45
Number of Gallons That Represents: 15.07
Number of Average Miles per Gallon: 24.5
Number of States Traveled Through: 4
Number of Hours On The Road: 11h45m
Number of Inches My Butt Is From The Ground, Tonite: 2
After I left that wonderful Holladay Inn in Holladay, I headed, where else, up to see the site of Patsy Cline's fatal air crash. It was on the way to my next adventure, and just 6 miles, round trip down this farm road. I mean, that is like a buck in gas money. Would you go see the site of Patsy Cline's air crash for a buck? Thought so, me too. I booked on down and got these shots.
This is the "official" monument, although I don't know who installed it.
This is another "official" information board, but it has been seriously graffiti-ized.
I am going to presume that rock down there represents something, but I was not about to climb down that hill to find out. Well, maybe down, but definitely, it was the trek back up I wasn't interested in.
This represents the "unofficial" monument created by, I guess, everyone who visited there.
I shuffled around inside that still packed full, but now messy, 850* truckster wannabe, and found this in the driver's side pouch. Where it came from, I don't remember, don't care.
Now it is part of our, I can say that now, "unofficial" monument to Patsy Cline. Thanks for influencing so many of my favorite female vocalists.
As I mentioned, I was on my way to my next adventure when I detoured to see this.
My next adventure? Well a trip abroad. Europe to be exact. I mean, if a hotel clerk is going to be rude and insensitive to me, why not be in Paris?
Paris, Tennessee, that is. Other than the name of the town, I cannot figure out why the connection. Think Paris, Tennessee and Paris, France are "Sister Cities"? I think that would be a stretch.
Soon I was sick of the rude French and decided to head over to see some Germans in Dresden, just up the road a piece. Took a shot of their town hall for Jessica.
On my way around town, I noticed this motorcycle up on that front porch. The other side of the porch is a brick wall, like the front. How did this dude get that up all those steps and then turned around on that narrow porch?
I sometimes think I live on this road.
As I was tooling down a roadway in Dresden, I saw this and then
this. I knew I was turning around for a closer look.
As I was walking up to the shop to see if I could shoot some pics, this kid, not the Kid, but this guy, who I later found out just works there, he is not the Owner, comes out and there are several men just standing around. I introduced myself and asked if I could take some pics. He said, 'Oh, you want to take one of me?' Everyone laughed and I did. Kyle, as you didn't know what a blog was, here is your 15 seconds of fame.
Anyway, I thought it appropriate to find a whole passle of VW's in Dresden and thought you might, also. Just some random shots, little commentary.
This is a rare old car.
59 Ford, Shortbed, F-100. As close as I got.
This looks to me like a future trike.
66 or so Corvair Ragtop, like the one in the Ormond Garage.
In this picture, those are large bales of hay in the far background with a New Holland hay rake like we used to have in Halltown, and a fiberglass Karman Ghia front end on it. A "New" bug front end to the right. A VW ragtop to the rear and a stripped VW ragtop towards us. I am unsure what that rare vehicle is to the far left in this photo.
I am going to suppose those round bales of hay don't mind sitting in those office cubicles.
Anyway, I thought that was a pretty cool place. Clean, airy, friendly.
I then was leaving town and saw what I thought I would see in Central Tennessee.
The number of tractors seen on the road, in the list above, did not include this one.
Now, if I may, and I can, I am typing this up, digress with a quick story.
A few years ago, a mutual friend of ours introduced Pam McDonald and I to each other in, possibly, the hope we would hook up. While sitting at a bar in Sl-Ocala, I asked Pam what would be fun on a first date. She said, 'Anything to do with water". As I don't have a boat, and we lived in landlocked Sl-Ocala, I thought my chances with Pam were extremely limited. So I thought about it a few days and called and asked her if she would like to float the Rainbow River. This is a gorgeous river west of Ocala, spring fed, clear and cold. She thought that was a great idea and we planned to do it the following Saturday. Well, of course, Saturday arrived wet and dreary. I needed a backup plan, bad. I remembered at some time in my travels around the area, I had seen an automobile ferry to cross the St. John's River between Ocala and St. Augustine. I called Pam and she was bummed about the weather too. I suggested we get together and have lunch in St. Augustine. We took the ferry over to St. Augustine and I was treated very nicely by Pam later in the day.
Anyway, this brings up my method of traversing the Big Muddy, the Mississippi River. Now everyone can just take the bridge across but, no, Not On the Road, By The Numbers. I want to do something unique. So I scoured both of the atlases, yeah I know, I have brought on this trip and found a ferry in Kentucky that goes across to Missouri, eliminating about 100* miles of traveling to a bridge. And it was about a 25* mile departure from my European experience. I am there!!
So I headed out to Hickman, Kentucky. It is an old river town built on the side of a hill, overlooking the Mississippi Delta. Sounds prettier than it is, although there is some cool old architecture there. On the way, I drove through some pretty cornfields, but after about 3* miles, I had had enough. Noooo, 22* more miles to go. Finally arrived, after following the Ferry signs for quite awhile, at least 5* of them, so I arrived and saw this sign
Needless to say, I was bummed. I even drove down to the river, full of hope someone would be there to "Say it ain't so". Nope nobody. Crap.
Now that 25* miles I drove was not on a freeway. It was a farm road, filled with tractors. About a 45* minute drive. And now back to head that now, still, 100* miles to that bridge.
Oh well, let's take a pic of that 850* truckster wannabe by another body of water.
Up on top of the hill that town was built on, this is the vista from behind the library.
Apparently, back in the 90's this bluff was erroding away and the Corps came in and spent $17,000,000* to save that library. It is not one of the cool old pieces of architecture I was talking about. The library dates to that era of architectural ingenuity, the 1970's. Can you say pork barrel politics, Senator Mitchell?
After I left this town, I was traveling along County Highway 125 *and a cat darted out in front of me, stopped and stood still. I slammed on the brakes, I was only going about 35* mph, anyway, and layed on the horn. That cat just slowly finished walking across that Farm Road. It is his home turf and I was a trespasser. But that cat almost bought the farm.
The disappointment, listed above, is about the ferry, not about this cat.
As my namesake is buried in a cemetary by the Big Muddy somewhere in Kentucky, I thought I would stop at one and see if it was the one he was buried in. I remembered, as does the jeep junkie, what his gravestone looks like. A big concrete tree trunk. I mean, ya never know. Well, I didn't see it but I did see this.
Think that dude died of a cocaine overdose?
I shot this picture after crossing the Big Muddy, not once but twice. Yes, I had to cross over into Illinois, first time I have been there in quite awhile, the drive 500* yards and cross over into the Show-Me State. Yes, two long narrow old style steel structures. It was fun. Not.
Anyway, this is a shot of the Missouri "Boot Heel". It is flat and filled with cotton plants. Looks alot like the interior of central Florida, by the way.
Now if you have been counting along with me, By The Numbers, you know I grew up on Haven Lee Farm, Halltown and this and this happened. If not, click on the links.
Anyway, I never knew where Dad got that replacement axle for that time The Wheel Fell Off, just that he returned with it from on a trip to Caruthersville, Missouri, over in the Boot Heel.
As I was traveling along Highway 62* between Caruthersville and Sikeston, the very road Dad would have traveled on, I saw this place, although recently renamed, and
these were behind it.
Yep, a tractor salvage yard. I had to go in. I got to talking with this oldtimer, sitting on a couch in the lobby. Turns out he retired from this place. Worked there for over forty years until his retirement a couple years ago. I got to talking to him about Dad and what was the likelihood of his purchasing it here. The old man tells me, up until about 1980, we were the only tractor "shop" within a hundred miles. 'Son, he says, we had men coming up here from Tennessee to buy parts from us.' I cannot say for certain, but I am pretty sure the mystery of where that axle came from has been solved.
As I was driving along Highway 60*, I saw this huge fire off in the distance. No, I did not go and investigate.
I did, however, stop at Big Spring, in Van Buren, Missouri, just for nostalgia's sake. Sorry, jeep junkie, I did not find Elephant Rocks park. But I think this is the area where you knocked your knoggin.
While traveling on Highway 60*, I was thinking, again, about a thought I have been having, quite often, On The Road. The whole premise of this trip is to intere Mom's ashes and hopefully, get a glimpse into what makes my older brothers tick. But I did not want to do the express run up Eisenhower's Interstate System, I wanted to see some unfamilar countryside. And I am.
However, the Highway 60* I remember, is a twisty, narly, curvy, narrow old blacktop highway. The Highway 60* I drove today was anything but. It was a wide boulevard with gracious curves, gentle slopes and, almost, interstate like--insert gasp here.
I know that times change but I longed for the old 60*, just for this trip so I could see old Americana. I mean, when the government finishes up straightening out this old highway via rerouting over leveled mountains, rather than around them, bypassing this house,
how are they going to sell this?
Just a mild, hopefully successful, attempt at humor.
A bit further along in Winona, I saw these old Pontiacs.
And these old Bowtie pickups and a ragtop caddy.
With a Nod of the Head to thehorserancher and the barn goddess.
Just this side of Willow Springs there is a, mostly muscle, car place and I saw this.
After that, as I was only 70 miles from the Queen City of the Ozarks, I let the 850* truckster wannabe have the reins and get us here.
As dusk was approaching, I sighted several sets of flashing lights moving along the shoulder on the opposite lane of that four lane roadway. It was 4* Amish horse and buggies. It was cool to see, as I hadn't see one in many, many years. It was nearly dark and as the Amish prefer the color black in all things, a pic wouldn't have made it anyway. But the memory is there.
Been a fun, educational, albeit exhausting, trip for me and I hope you enjoyed it too. Going to thefoamguy's lake cabin tomorrow and saturday, hopefully to Haven Lee Farm on Sunday with the Kid, the jeep junkie, the blonde cutie, thehorserancher and the barn goddess.
After that, well, you just have to keep counting, By The Numbers.
No comments:
Post a Comment