Music Highway

February 4-6

Needless to say, not much happened on the third or the fourth in Forrest City.

We were iced in. Temperatures were in the teens at night, and when the sun came out during the day, we got a little bit of a melt, but not much.

I was able to get the ice off the car on Friday afternoon, the fourth. It was bright and the sunlight was helping a bit. It took maybe half an hour. I was wearing lightly lined gloves and managed to lose all sensation in my fingertips. 

It was hilarious. My hands didn’t want to behave. It was an actual labor to turn off the engine and lock the car.  Getting into the room was even more fun, trying to draw the key card out of my shirt pocket and slip it into the lock.

Very little was moving even on Friday, although the road outside the window looked a little clearer than it was the day before.

It was by dumb luck alone that we didn’t have to bunk in the lobby at Forrest City. Actually, they had a spare room usually reserved for staff who have to sleep over. We were going to move there but then were told that the lady who had booked our room would be coming a day later than planned. 

We were able to stay in place till Saturday morning.

So Saturday we moved from one Comfort Suites to another, this time in Jackson, Tennessee, almost half way between Memphis and Nashville.

Temperatures were expected to reach the mid 30s or even low 40s by then. The highways were dry. The trees when we started were shrouded in ice. 

We passed the remains of one mishap on the way. An entire long-haul truck, cab and trailer still attached, lay on its side on the grass by the highway.

Trees still covered in ice were down everywhere.

I was taking it easy, staying to the right and letting everybody pass by. But the road was wide open. I was concerned about hitting a patch of ice in the shade. I’ve done that once before, but not at 70 miles an hour.

When we crossed the Mississippi from Arkansas into Memphis, the road was wet. All I could think about was a detail from the storm coverage on a local Fox affiliate out of Memphis. A semi had jackknifed on the westbound side of the bridge and blocked I-40 for hours on Thursday.

I thank the higher powers that there was no freeze on that deck.

There had been a 15-car pile-up on one of the Interstate highways in Memphis but we saw no sign of that.

In Memphis, many local streets were still blocked by fallen trees. Well more than a hundred thousand people were without power. Hotels were booked solid everywhere by storm refugees.

The ice became less and less evident as we moved east. Where the road passes through a cut, the shaded side had icicles. Even so, the fields and the roadside were clear after Memphis.

There were no more puddles after the bridge.

Every once in a while, though, we still encountered trees crowned with ice.

The stretch of I-40 between the two cities is nicknamed Music Highway.

We stopped at a tourist information center that was also a local cultural museum. There’s a room devoted to cotton, for instance, and another with live catfish in aquariums that discusses the ecology of a local river.

Music, though, is the main theme. People were setting up sound equipment for a jam session that was going to be carried, I believe, on YouTube. We didn’t stay for the show, but did get to hear two of the musicians rehearsing a song.

This part of Tennessee refers to itself as the Delta. It is home to a number of popular music headliners. The biggest name is Tina Turner, who was born in nearby Nutbush, Tennessee. 

The school she attended as a child has been moved to the property and houses the Tina Turner Museum.

The hotel in Jackson is on Casey Jones Lane. Apparently, his house—a white clapboard structure with two-story columns in front—is across the street. It’s part of a complex called the Casey Jones Home and Railroad Museum.

My favorite bit, though, is the caboose in the sky, in front of the Casey Jones Motel.

Joanna had never heard of Jones, and that didn’t surprise me. Train wreck songs seem to be a peculiarly American form of entertainment.

We were in need of lots of basics—grooming supplies, cheap wine, bar food.

After half an hour of Google, everything seemed to fall into place. First we drive to Party Mart, a liquor store just a little north of Union University. Then we move a quarter mile up the same street to Walgreen’s. Finally, we swing back and detour to Texas Roadhouse. 

So simple. Life is good. Till we saw the Roadhouse parking lot almost full.

It was Saturday, OK, but it was only 4 p.m. We went inside to learn there was a one-hour wait to get a table for two.

The nearest alternative was another Outback, which we had passed on our way to Party Mart. Joanna had prime rib au jus and I had a rare sirloin. I tried the Coppola Cabernet Sauvignon, and it was all like heaven after two days dry and eating Lean Cuisine.

We left Jackson the next day, Sunday, and moved on to Lebanon, Tennessee, about 20 miles east of Nashville.

On the way we stopped at a rest area for a brief stretch. Since this is Music Highway, the rest area was named in honor of Loretta Lynn and Hank Williams.

We were also near the site of a raid by Nathan Bedford Forrest on the Union supply lines. In 1864, Forrest started shelling a heavily fortified Union supply depot called Johnsonville.

There were hundreds Union troops, maybe more, stationed there and they were backed up by several gunboats in the river.

The Union officers were caught entirely by surprise. Not knowing the situation, they ordered the destruction of the gunboats to keep them from falling into Rebel hands. Vast stores of ammunition, food, and other supplies for the Union Army also went up in flames.

Forrest was in no position to capture Johnsonville. He was raiding, not invading. 

The destruction of the stores was a major achievement. He lit out and barely escaped the pursuing Federal troops.

His escape route included a spur of the Natchez Trace. We had stopped at a state park named for the Trace back in December on our way west. The ranger there told us that Forrest had used it on his retreat.

With only a brief stop on the way, we arrived early at the Sleep Inn in Lebanon. It was a few minutes past one, and there would be no room available till two. 

We went to the local Waffle House to kill time. 

Eggs and waffles are always good for the spirit.

I was going to get the car washed at the Auto Spa next door, but it was closed on Sunday.

We had planned on going to Coach’s, a bar next to the hotel, for dinner. But that plan had to be put on hold because a sign on the door said the place was closed today for an employee appreciation event.

Google turned up a few places that looked reasonable and were open. We went to Demos’ Restaurant, a drive of six or seven miles, mostly on I-40. 

This was another popular joint. People were lined up waiting for tables. We took seats at the bar.

It was largely Italian fare, so I was able to have spaghetti with sausage. The sauce was rich enough. The sausage had a little heat, but the flavor of sage and fennel came through just fine. 

There was no Chianti. I opted for a couple of American Pinot Noirs that were all right, but nothing special.

Joanna ordered grilled tilapia filets with a side of beans and rice. She got a bit of a surprise when she tried the beans. They were actually chili and too hot for her. The bartender replaced it with pasta.

I believe a good time was had by all.

Happy trails and good music, everyone.

Love to all.

Harry and Joanna