Unfurl It Like Tractor Paper

The first quarter of 2010 is about to close and I’m two months away from driving over the road nationally for the company for one year. We all marvel at how fast time flies and this past year is no exception. Someone once said to me “life is like a roll of toilet paper, the closer to the end you get, the faster it goes.” How true.


I’m still adding up the numbers and so far, I’ve logged nearly 100,000 miles in three different trucks. My travels have taken me to 45 states. Regarding those 45 states, I’ve been to almost every state I’ve ever been to at least twice, some as many as 10 times. Of the lower 48, only Montana and the Dakotas are the missing pieces. Someday, my dream is to drive a truck in all 50, even if that means renting a Ryder tractor in Honolulu and taking it around town. The lone exception this year has been Maine. Expediting has just not taken me there. Back in 2001, we took a motor home to Bar Harbor and up the rocky coast to explore seaside villages and enjoy some lobster. Even Louie had some of the crustacean. He looks good in a bib.

I have often bounced back and forth from Canada to the Rio Grande like a bungee cord. These sojourns have divided the country into geometric patterns. To be put on a canvas, some of these runs would appear to be modern art. I ran from Washington State to Orlando Florida and I am hoping for an opportunity that will take me from San Diego to Bangor Maine to complete the “X”. The major north-south routes, I’ve almost completed in their entirety include Interstates 5, 15, 25,35,45,55,65,75,85 and 95. East-West Interstates on the list are 90, 70, and 20. I’ve travelled the entire length of 80 from the George Washington Bridge in New York to San Francisco. Also on the completed list is 40, and 10. I just have the section of 75 north of Flint, Michigan to the Upper Peninsula, the Midland-Odessa stretch on 20, and a piece of 95 in Maine to the Canadian border to add those to the done list. All the Interstates I have driven on would unfurl like tractor paper from a computer printer.

Keeping track of all this has been a most enjoyable part of the job. More than numbers, these roads are paths that lead through America. There are home towns along the way that mean something to someone. Most importantly, The Eisenhower Interstate System connects us and our American ideals and principles. We may seem much divided as a country as of late, but I’ve always felt that this is how our country works. Thomas Jefferson, in his first inaugural address in 1801 proclaimed that“Every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have been called by different names, brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated, where reason is left free to combat it” . Our forefathers were brilliant men.

Once again, I over-stayed my home time to complete tax returns and catch up on a few chores at the ranch. After a short run to get my “less than 75”, and move up in dwell time status, my jumping off point out of town would be from the electronics warehouse south of Atlanta to Memphis on Friday. Delivery wasn’t until Monday so I could lolly gag my way across the south a bit. Night number one found me in Birmingham, Alabama at the Flying J. When you start recognizing faces and places along the way, as I do here, it kind of gives a strange air of familiarity. These days, a large portion of America has a “homey” feeling to me. On Saturday afternoon, under brilliant spring skies, I weighed anchor and continued on westward across the top of Alabama and into Mississippi on a smooth and picturesque US 78 in the Magnolia State. The state welcome center in Ole’ Miss was alive in Bradford Pear white and a winter brown Bermuda lawn, a reminder that the last vestiges of the cold season were hanging on. Soon, bare trees would fill out in green and magnificent Magnolias dominate the landscape. I’ve always found solace in an early spring day. In that kind of day, a prize can be found for enduring winter.

Tupelo wasn’t far up the road, and this time, I was determined to visit Elvis Presley’s birthplace. This was my third pass on this route and the King wasn’t going to slip by me again. The Sprint Market across from the Huddle House next to Elvis Presley Lake and Campground seemed like the logical place to put the Fat Cat down for the night. Upon entering the mini market, I was greeted by a chorus of hellos. Seems the lady clerks welcome every customer as they cross the threshold. The jingle bells on the door would clang and hellos and hi’s would follow. I had heard that Tupelo was known for its hospitality and this kind of salutation seemed to fit. As I surveyed the fried deli counter, one of my eyebrows raised as I spied catfish fillets lined up for sale. A three fillet meal with steak fries was $2.39. Another reason I like Mississippi. They don’t try to gouge you at every turn. Fuel prices are usually the lowest in the country too. With a sack of fish, I headed to the truck to settle in and plot my visit the next day at Elvis’s place of humble beginnings.

Sunday opened with a stout cloud cover and cooler temperatures but not to temper my enthusiasm for a visit to the King’s home. I found the Birthplace complex 2 and a half miles down the road and located a good place to park the Cat. Once inside the gift shop, I was greeted by a pleasant woman with silver hair and a big smile I presumed to be in her 70’s. She warned of malfunctioning plumbing in the Men’s room and offered up a program for the tour.

On the grounds, you’ll find a bronze statue of Elvis at 13, dressed in overalls with a guitar in hand. The story wall is situated near a pleasant fountain and has profound quotes from friends and family.
The actual home that Elvis was born in is a tiny two room cottage with a front porch and swing. Inside, it takes about 10 seconds to walk from the front door to the back. It’s been refurbed and decorated down to the finest detail, just as it would have been when Elvis lived there. An old pot belly stove that doubles as the heat and cooking source takes a prominent place in the kitchen with an authentic cast iron skillet. Encompassing the home in concrete are markers denoting each year that Elvis lived there from 1935 to 1948 when the family moved to Memphis for a better life. Next on the tour is a modern looking Chapel built in recent times with beautiful stain glass windows where you can sit in a pew and listen to recordings of Elvis singing gospel.

Last, but not least, is the church where Elvis actually got his singing start. They moved it from up the road in 2008 and restored it to its 1930’s period. Once inside, one of Elvis’s second cousins gives a short talk on the history of the church and then she turns down the lights. Next, three screens drop down from the ceiling and a re-creation film with actors who portray a vintage 1940’s Church of God worship service. The effect is dramatic, you really feel like you’re experiencing an old time gospel service in the old church. Out back, there is an authentic outhouse to complete the feeling of the era. After the presentation, I spoke with the cousin and asked her if she ever got to spend any time with Elvis. She said in fact, yes. She related that he was 9 years older than her and would sometimes bring “dates” around for her older sister. On occasion, she got to tag along with the group.

I thanked the nice woman for a great time and hopped back into the Fat Cat for the next to last leg of the trip to Olive Branch, Mississippi, a suburb of Memphis where I would cue up for an early Monday morning delivery. My ongoing voyage across this great land would continue up western Tennessee through the tail end of Kentucky into the heart of the Bluegrass State to a stop in Lexington. At this point, only my log books know for sure how many times I’ve been in Colonel Sanders Land this year. It’s supposed to be mostly sunny and 70 degrees tomorrow here. I just might want to stay.