I’m not gonna lie- the drive out of Breckenridge was depressing… as was the grunt on I-70 to Denver. Within a short time, all I could see of the mountains in my rearview were the big, fluffy clouds that float over them. I set my cruise control at 80 and did my best to not look back.
The drive was just boring. I seriously considered staying up and driving through the night, but I was so uncomfortably sore and bruised up that I decided to stop in Tulsa and get some sleep. The next day, I found comfort in seeing the Ouachitas as I passed through western Arkansas. Of course, they aren’t the same, but they are where I’ve cut my teeth as both a trail runner and mountain biker, so they feel like home.
When I stopped in Conway for lunch, I felt mild culture shock. I’d forgotten how large everyone was in The South. I wanted a salad, but all of the ones on the menu included chicken. Then, I noticed that on the entire menu, the closest thing to a vegetarian entree was a grilled cheese off of the kids’ menu. I ended up ordering a crispy chicken salad without the crispy chicken.
Then, it was on for the final push to Memphis. I don’t know about you all, but I love the Memphis skyline. I knew I was home when I almost wrecked while admiring it- there was an old, rusted out truck pulling an equally decrepit trailer that was stacked well above cab-level with wooden pallets “secured” with a rope that was looped around the pallets and under the bottom of the trailer several times. He was in the middle lane going about 40 mph.
Ah… home sweet home.
Some things, you can only get in Memphis. I heard this song on the radio soon after avoiding that truck. No matter how awesome my travels are, the first line of the song (~35 seconds in, after the Biggie sample/hook) still rings true (warning, there are some “bad words” in this song)…