Five State, Eleven Hours
We leave Atlanta and head northwest toward Nashville. The plan is to spend our off day there to soak in some of the lovely cultural sites the city has to offer. We zip through northern Georgia and enter Tennessee. We see a glimpse of Chattanooga and we all secretly sing the song in our heads though no one admits to it. Then we are suddenly back in Georgia as the highway curves briefly south, and our hearts sink. No more than 15 minutes later, we enter Tennessee again, and this time, all our phones suddenly turn back an hour. We are in Central Time; a first for the band. We beep the horn and roll on toward Nashville. We stop by the Tennessee welcome center and pick up a bunch of brochures. Dollywood. Studio B. The Country Music Hall of Fame. The Nashville Aquarium. The options are endless.
The countryside becomes a vast expanse of rolling hills, grazing cattle and burning barns. Actually, one burning barn. Pretty sure it was a burning barn. Smelled like it. We drive past the Jack Daniels Distillery and everyone has to strap Yoi down so he won’t jump out the van.
We roll into the parking lot of the Nashville Motel 6 in the afternoon. It is in a sketchy, desolate part of town far removed from the glitz and the legend that led us here. To top it off, we’ve arrived too late to enjoy any of the attractions we wanted to see. We idle in the parking lot for a good five minutes and deliberate about what we should do, The vote is unanimous, nix Nashville! Drive straight to St. Louis and hope to get there in time to enjoy a bit of nightlife on our night off. Done. We book a Red Roof Inn within walking distance from bars in St. Louis. A splurge for sure, but one we feel we deserve.
We drive out of the sketchy lot as a security guard scrutinizes us with a suspicious eye. Driving past downtown, we do a hello, goodbye and jet northwest.
All of the sudden, we are in Kentucky, Completely unexpected. Never been to the Jayhawk state. Is that what it’s called? Birthplace of Lincoln. Of Jackson. The countryside here is all rolling hills and farms. No burning barns here. We roll into the Kentucky welcome center, which we discover has WiFi. We take our computers in there to check email and whatnot. Gavin and Yoi squeeze in some quality ‘bee time. ‘bee, if you don’t know, is Frisbee. It’s the official band sport.
We’ve been driving for some time when we realize we haven’t had anything to eat. We surrender ourselves to the fact that nothing worthwhile will be found in this desolate stretch of land, and settle for the Wendy’s value menu. We all manage to spend less than $5 for dinner. Pretty sure Will spends $2.46. At this point, Yoi takes over the driving. We climb in the car around 8pm and our beloved Garmin GPS, which we’ve named Carmen, indicates that we will arrive in St. Louis at 10:42pm. Will declares a challenge: Arrive in St. Louis by 10:30pm and he will buy a drink for Yoi. Game ON!
Now, there is a trick to doing this. You don’t want to go too fast that you will get pulled over, but you want to go fast enough that a minute is shaved off the ETA every 12 minutes or so. You speed when it seems reasonable. Yoi’s strategy is twofold: follow fast cars and avoid trucks. That means making sure you are clear of any trucks before a long incline. It also means choosing the right car to follow. The pickup truck driven by a 16 year-old going 85 mph is not the right car. The mini-van driven by a middle-aged man going 71 mph in a 65? Golden.
Jeremiah mixes a balls out dance party on his iPod to push Yoi through to the end. It’s a heady mix. New Order. Peter, Bjorn and John. Bloc Party. Franz Ferdinand. Magnetic Fields. Pulp. Band of Horses. The hits just keep on coming. Soon we are in Illinois. The ETA rolls back. 10:40. 39. 38…
Will and Gavin are playing an intense game of chess that last most of the drive. There are occasional bursts of cursing as someone slips up and gives up a rook or knight. Will periodically shouts, “Yoi!”
“Will!?”
“ETA!”
“37!”
This goes on and on every few minutes over the blaring music. Every time the ETA rolls back, Yoi shouts out the new number and there is a burst of applause. Around 9:45, the ETA finally rolls back to 10:30. Big applause. By the time we enter St. Louis city limits, the ETA is a whopping 10:28. Yoi is nervous however. We get stuck at a long red light a block from the Inn and we lurch into parking lot right at 10:30pm. Victory!
The countryside becomes a vast expanse of rolling hills, grazing cattle and burning barns. Actually, one burning barn. Pretty sure it was a burning barn. Smelled like it. We drive past the Jack Daniels Distillery and everyone has to strap Yoi down so he won’t jump out the van.
We roll into the parking lot of the Nashville Motel 6 in the afternoon. It is in a sketchy, desolate part of town far removed from the glitz and the legend that led us here. To top it off, we’ve arrived too late to enjoy any of the attractions we wanted to see. We idle in the parking lot for a good five minutes and deliberate about what we should do, The vote is unanimous, nix Nashville! Drive straight to St. Louis and hope to get there in time to enjoy a bit of nightlife on our night off. Done. We book a Red Roof Inn within walking distance from bars in St. Louis. A splurge for sure, but one we feel we deserve.
We drive out of the sketchy lot as a security guard scrutinizes us with a suspicious eye. Driving past downtown, we do a hello, goodbye and jet northwest.
All of the sudden, we are in Kentucky, Completely unexpected. Never been to the Jayhawk state. Is that what it’s called? Birthplace of Lincoln. Of Jackson. The countryside here is all rolling hills and farms. No burning barns here. We roll into the Kentucky welcome center, which we discover has WiFi. We take our computers in there to check email and whatnot. Gavin and Yoi squeeze in some quality ‘bee time. ‘bee, if you don’t know, is Frisbee. It’s the official band sport.
We’ve been driving for some time when we realize we haven’t had anything to eat. We surrender ourselves to the fact that nothing worthwhile will be found in this desolate stretch of land, and settle for the Wendy’s value menu. We all manage to spend less than $5 for dinner. Pretty sure Will spends $2.46. At this point, Yoi takes over the driving. We climb in the car around 8pm and our beloved Garmin GPS, which we’ve named Carmen, indicates that we will arrive in St. Louis at 10:42pm. Will declares a challenge: Arrive in St. Louis by 10:30pm and he will buy a drink for Yoi. Game ON!
Now, there is a trick to doing this. You don’t want to go too fast that you will get pulled over, but you want to go fast enough that a minute is shaved off the ETA every 12 minutes or so. You speed when it seems reasonable. Yoi’s strategy is twofold: follow fast cars and avoid trucks. That means making sure you are clear of any trucks before a long incline. It also means choosing the right car to follow. The pickup truck driven by a 16 year-old going 85 mph is not the right car. The mini-van driven by a middle-aged man going 71 mph in a 65? Golden.
Jeremiah mixes a balls out dance party on his iPod to push Yoi through to the end. It’s a heady mix. New Order. Peter, Bjorn and John. Bloc Party. Franz Ferdinand. Magnetic Fields. Pulp. Band of Horses. The hits just keep on coming. Soon we are in Illinois. The ETA rolls back. 10:40. 39. 38…
Will and Gavin are playing an intense game of chess that last most of the drive. There are occasional bursts of cursing as someone slips up and gives up a rook or knight. Will periodically shouts, “Yoi!”
“Will!?”
“ETA!”
“37!”
This goes on and on every few minutes over the blaring music. Every time the ETA rolls back, Yoi shouts out the new number and there is a burst of applause. Around 9:45, the ETA finally rolls back to 10:30. Big applause. By the time we enter St. Louis city limits, the ETA is a whopping 10:28. Yoi is nervous however. We get stuck at a long red light a block from the Inn and we lurch into parking lot right at 10:30pm. Victory!
posted by The Jaguar Club at
11:32 AM
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