A Fool's Progress: Them Old Cotton Fields Back Home

As promised I was up at first light. But the sun wasnt. A heavy fog lay on the 75 corridor and as I watched the news I was informed that traffic was a mess. Time to have some more coffee and wait it out. No need to rush out so I can sit and mangle my clutch in a traffic jam while losing weight in a hot sauna fog.

By 10:30 everyone was safely at work and the fog has burned off and I was on the road. Chattanooga was nocked off quickly and I stopped for lunch.

While eating I met a couple old boys who gave me the lowdown in the long rambling way I have noticed southerners have of relating information. A tidbit evolves into a tale which leads to an anecdote. They did tell me of a great catfish stand on my way to Mississippi. The directions were cliche country boy "Hang a left where Shorty's Dodge hit that old oak and burned it a few years back"

I also noticed an oddity in thier mannerisms. Words that we in the Pacific Northwest would find angering and inappropriate just rolled of thier tongues like it was nothing. One gent mentioned to his buddy " I saw her in here yesterday with some boY. Didnt see her nigger boyfriend nowheres though". The descriptor rolled out with all the same aplomb as if he were noting that his pants were blue. No emotion was attached to it. It was just a description of the boyfriend.

With lunch done I headed down 72. I just barely clipped Georgia. My time there less than 10 miles making it a mere technicality. After a quick hook back into Tennessee I hit Alabama. Now really....with the song association do you think anyone can resist humming a bit of "Sweet Home Alabama" when in that state? Same thing in West Virginia when "Country Roads" popped into my head. Hell, I even managed to roll through Muscle Shoals...a historic place in music that is mentioned in the song. Unfortunastely the SHoals seems to be a big strip mall. I couldnt find a downtown or anything. I didnt want to burn time in a sort day for that minor curiosity either. It does turn out that Helen Keller was born just a spit away.

Other than seeing cotton fields for the first time, complete with tin shacks, Alabama was a poor choice for today. Hot. Humid. Flat as a skinny white woman's ass. That and the low speed limits induced a lot of road hypnosis or "road daze". The heat, the vibration and the repeated buffeting from trucks tries to rock you to sleep. Very very dangerous an I believe has killed more than a few riders. I was having to pull off every 30-40 miles to drink some iced coffee. (home made...fill up a cup with ice and pour hot coffee from the gas staion urn in it. Its watery. But cool and caffeinated) Just as I was getting ready to pull out the mp3 player to combat the daze, the sun started playing hide and seek in the clouds, giving me some relief. Also, not long after Muscle SHoals I hit the Natchez Trace and headed south toward Tupelo.

The Nartchex Trace is basically a multi state long national park with a highway running right down the middle of it. Yes it is slow...50mph with lots of "we will radar you" warnings. But it is in the trees and cool. The place really does look like a park with broad expanses of neetly mowed grass verging the 20-50' to the trees and no road shoulder. It was a bit odd and sort of....well it reminded me of a municipal park or a suburban "green belt" Imagine spending your days mowing 50+ miles of lawn (in this stretch anyways) double that to take into account the other side. As I approached Tupelo and the sun began to set, I was somewhat thankful for it as I thouught it mnight give me a second or two more to spot a deer as it became Deer Thirty PM.

I also saw bunches of wild turkey. Cagey bastards. Every time I stopped to get a picture..they would stroll back into the woods. Not run. Not fly. No panic..they ambled. I guess that might be why you dont tend to see many turkeys crumpled into broken heaps by the highway.

The rest of the way into Tupelo, I enjoyed a beautiful Mississipi sunset. Molten gold light gently strobing my face and then becoming the most intense rose pink I have seen outside of a lingerie catalog.

Now I am in Tupelo. Birthplace of Elvis. Between that and standing where the Gettysburg Address was delivered, I am having a history hallowed ground overload.