Day 40 – Memphis, TN

Miles traveled: 290 (some of this was within Memphis when we went to get dinner)
Hours on Road: 4 (doesn’t include driving around Memphis)
States covered: 2 – Arkansas, Tennessee

We left our Inn around 10:30 after breakfast and some TV watching. The boys are always hesitant to leave because they know we’ll be in the van for several hours. Parker was able to get Lee to work but he made me promise I wouldn’t turn the van off for fear Lee wouldn’t start up again. The problem is with Lee’s connection to the car battery. He insists he isn’t getting any juice, when we know darn well he is. After Parker fiddled with the connection for a while, even Lee had to admit he was connected. So, while the gas tank showed less and less gas within it, Parker kept yelling at me to KEEP GOING!

On our way out of wherever the hell we were, we saw three more dead armadillos along the road. What is with those dumb creatures? Along the road, I got my mojo back so well that I passed a helicopter. Granted, it was on a flatbed and looked like it may have crashed at some point, but I still passed the truck it was on. Speed limit 70 – Annette driving 70. Yes!!

Somewhere along the drive, we passed an area that was obviously pushing some severe form of religion. A billboard read, “Use the rod to save your child’s life.” Then it went on with something about “You must be reborn of the flesh…” and I was passed it before the rest of the sign registered in my brain. I think it’s because my brain had to reread the first part that was encouraging child abuse. Hey, I know some people spank their kids, but do we need billboards encouraging it?

My faith in the driving ability of the truckers around me was not redeemed when I realized that the several burn marks I saw in the grass along the median were the exact size of a tipped-over semi. Yes, at least five burn marks at different spots announcing to the world that a truck had not only turned over there, but it had caught on fire and burned quite fiercely, as well. From then on, when I decided to pass a truck, I went with all the gusto Jose could muster. Speed limit 70 – Annette 85.

My boys have decided to honor me with the name “Pilot,” for the rest of our journey. I thought, at first, it was just their derivative of my choice of Superhero names, Driver. Did I discuss that in an earlier blog? That Parker is Indestructible, Cal is Chameleon, Trey is Flame, and I’m Driver? I thought that’s what they were basing Pilot on. Only, they weren’t. Evidently, I am Pilot because I frequently drop the F-bomb. What rotten kids. Sure, I may slip every now and then, but who wouldn’t on an 8,000 mile trip around the country? My new name came as a result of our driving on a very busy road in Memphis where I wanted to turn left but had to wait for a green arrow and some little punk tried to sneak in front of me. It was just a natural reflex to say something F-related. By the way, the punk never did get in front of me.

The driving on the aforementioned busy street was to get to a liquor store where I bought myself some gin. Yes, gin. And I’m drinking it as I write. But before that, we headed to Hard Rock Café to get my pal, Jim, a T-shirt, as we had done in Dallas. The cool thing was that it was located on Beale Street, center of the Blues. The block that Hard Rock Café is on did not allow cars so, being the good mother I am, I told Parker to hop out and walk along the block by himself to buy the T-shirt, and I’d circle the block and pick him up where I’d dropped him off. Memphis is only the 13th most dangerous city in America. Hell, Hartford is 7th! He was fine. He said some guy walked along with him (wasn’t that nice?). He couldn’t understand a word the guy said, but he kept going and found his way safely to his destination. I was able to stay where I was when I dropped him off. I was illegally parked, but since I remained in the car, I figured that if a cop came along, I’d just move then. Parker came back to me unscathed, as I knew he would, shirt in hand.

After we got the T-shirt, we headed to what two websites had dubbed the best barbeque ribs in Memphis -- Cozy Corner. It’s a converted gas station, so they admit it ain’t pretty, but the ribs were unbelievable. The smoker (a machine, not a person) was right behind the counter where you order, and the guy who took our order was as nice as could be, not to mention jacked, as the boys noticed. They have great admiration for those who work out enough to be jacked. He asked me all about my trip, and we chatted about St. Louis baseball and places you have to see before you die.

We got our dinner as takeout and stopped to get my booze on the way home. The Littles and I had the ribs while Parker got a beef BBQ sandwich. He said it wasn’t as good as Rudy’s, but according to Brian, Texas is the beef BBQ state and Tennessee is the pork BBQ state. Our ribs were fantastic.

After dinner the Littles went swimming. I was going to work on my computer while they swam but the black cloud that is eternally over our heads kept spitting water at me, so I put the computer away and tried to call some of you who read my blog. Where were you all? Only Trisha was home!!! Not that I don’t love talking to my dear sister, but she had called during dinner and Parker had kindly held the phone to my ear while we spoke (he had the only clean hands – he’d finished eating and the rest of us were covered with BBQ sauce).

Now we’re watching TV, par-usual. I’m figuring not much will happen tonight, except going to the pool again, so I’m posting this blog. If something happens, you’ll find out in tomorrow’s post.

Good night to all.

For (the four) corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1998534027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

One’s of the helicopter we passed, one is Cozy Corner, and two are of a cigarette some guy balanced on his car before entering the same liquor store I went into. Are we losing our photo touch?