If the tent seemed stifling then the bathroom was an all out full nelson choke hold. I attempted to wash the night off my face and eyes only to dry to full perspiration and a pointless use of water.
I could now fully take in my surroundings. The RV park was half filled with what seemed like long time guests. My closest neighbors, though from Texas, had obviously made home in this far corner, and even beyond them were trailers in for the long haul, sets of patio furniture, dead grass where tires drove, and weeds up around the trailer wheels. The front half was the usual of retirees and their ilk, though with the addition of a large group of families there for a baseball tournament, as judging by the team jerseys scattering the grounds.
Parting from the campground in need of fuel and food, I stop at a gas station just down the road next to the freeway, that at 7:15am was closed, but would still feed the Mini its precious life-blood.
While pumping I was joined by two others in need of fuel, both giving me the usual odd looks of my unwelcomed presence at their gas station of choice. One of whom had a young boy with them in a little league uniform, though a different one from those at camp. As I finished up a girl unlatched the door from the inside and hurriedly switched on the lights. I purchased water and caffeine and proceeded to find my mornings sustenance.
Down the highway an exit or two was a Sonic with its drive through breakfast glory, so I found my way to an egg croissant and searing hot coffee. I do not enjoy having a hot meal and a hot beverage, they really should never be together in the first place. Take a nice big bite of fresh out of the microwave sandwich and wash it down with a molten beverage...ones mouth may never forget such a heinous crime. Good thing I had just bought Ozarka tap water in a bottle.
Now on my way towards Tennessee, Memphis would hit about lunch time. I had thought it would be cool to find lunch downtown Memphis and coming upon the city frantically searching with GPSy, I past it. Didn't know it was that small, oh well no turning back now. She had found a Waffle House up the road and still on the trail to Nashville.
Erin had work at 5, and if i didn't take too long with lunch then I could still catch her...as long as nothing else slowed my pace.
It was amazing thinking that after all of this time on the road I was now only 3 1/2 hours from my destination, and almost was sad at its inevitable end. Though with that only being the beginning of an adventure of this place called Music City, Nashville.
I quickly ate my second breakfast sandwich of the day (I could probably eat one of these for every meal if I had a Waffle House chef in my kitchen...though to the detriment of my waste line and general well being) along with "Covered and Chunked" hash browns (you have to learn the lingo for such an upstanding establishment as Waffle House) and proceeded to input my final destination into GPSy's well mapped hands and entered the Tennessean country side.
Nashville is a mess of roads, pikes, highways, and freeways. I think there are more sections of Nashville that there are of New York City, at the least NYC is a sensible grid that can be easily followed. Nashville on the other hand is a drunken mess of streets.
But with trusty GPSy and her condescending British accent at my side, I easily found my way to 5136 Hilson Road, after only a few turns around and directional correctings.
As I pulled into the driveway with one familiar car in front, I was met by an Asian man in woman's sandals walking a large bag of trash to the trashcans. We both gave looks to the other of "who are you and why are you here" I am sure of it, and after being attacked by Erin and Hope from the back of the house I found out he was a friend of Hope's from the World Race and was staying the night before he drove home.
I had arrived. Nashville, Tennessee. Erin, Hope, Stephanie, Denysha, friend Paul, water saturated 85 degrees and the house that would be my home for the coming weeks.
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