Memphis

Every time I've left Chicago by car, I've done so on 94. My favorite road sign, just after you pass the downtown area, is the sign for 57 to Memphis, as if it's just a quick run down the road. I've always been fascinated by it, and always told myself that someday I would do the run to Memphis. Today was the day.

I didn't get to see my sign, though. I took 294, the toll road, so that I could avoid the rush hour traffic that was likely sitting at a standstill while I was gliding along at full speed. This was the closest thing I could find for my favorite sign. Oh well.

57 reminded me of many routes back East that are strictly point A to B material.  Usually it's 95.  95 to L.L. Bean at 1am back in my college days (it's open 24 hrs a day).  95 to Boston for a Sox game or a beer at The Sevens.  Or the Big One: 95 to Florida.  Sometimes it's 93 to the mountains.  Other times it's 89 to Stowe or Burlington or Montreal.

57 was a long, fun ride through seemingly endless farmland.  I could see it being a popular Friday late night after work run from Chicago to Beale Street, or a spontaneous Chicago weekend for Memphians.

I've seen some random truckstops across the country, but this one takes the cake.  Inside, it was all Honey.  "You find everything you were looking for, honey?"  "You have yourself a nice day, honey."  I'm such an East coast sucker for that stuff.  I love it.

Sun Records is always first place I go when I get to Memphis.  I can't help it.

Then, the second place I go . . . barbecue.  This time I tried a new place.  Cozy Corner.  One word . . .

. . . F A B U L O U S.  Trust me, it's a lot better than it looks.

I was very sad to hear of the devastation in Dallas today.  Very thankful that I had a good day of driving.  I think my Nana watches over me from above the clouds.