Bob and Jan’s Eagle; Ironclads; POW/MIA Memorial; CBS Sports Bus; Bad Scenery; Almost Home

Our great friends and neighbors Bob and Jan Blythe called this morning to let us know they were getting underway from Rhode Island in their new (to them) American Eagle motor coach (Their Bus). It’s the same year as ours (2003), but a slightly different layout, and we are so happy for them. Since they live directly across the street, not only will we be able to compare Eagles side by side, but we can totally block the street! Our other neighbors will be thrilled!

 On a bike ride yesterday, we saw the ship’s bell from CSS Atlanta, a Civil War ironclad which was converted from the hull of Fingal, a Scottish blockade runner. She fought briefly trying to raise the Union blockade at Wilmington, NC, but was captured in 1863 by Captain John Rodgers, USN, aboard USS Weehawken, an ironclad Union monitor. Rodgers was also in command of a much heavier naval squadron. Atlanta was recommissioned in the US Navy, but sank in 1868 off Cape Hatteras, known then as now as the Graveyard of the Atlantic. 

Coincidentally, I had the privilege of commanding the destroyer USS JOHN RODGERS (DD-983), shown here on the right, named after the Civil War captain’s father, who was a naval hero of the War of 1812. His home in Havre de Grace, Maryland, was specifically sought out and burned by British marines (but directed by a British Army general) in 1814. Rules of war were a bit looser in 1814, but what the Brits did was considered extraordinarily bad form even then. Ships have also changed a lot!

On the way out of Dobbins ARB, we passed a memorial to US Prisoners of War and Missing in Action (POW/MIA). You often see the black POW/MIA flag flying below the US flag, and it recognizes the hundreds of thousands of Americans who died or were mistreated by our enemies in wars throughout American history. 

In a rest stop south of Atlanta, we saw the CBS College Football Road Trip Sports Bus. They were probably driving from the Georgia-Tennessee game on Saturday (GA 51, TN 44). Regrettably, I couldn’t find anyone around to ask for tickets for the next game... 

Georgia is a beautiful state, but I have one complaint: their numerous roadside signs are truly obnoxious. I could not live near billboard after billboard advertising everything from hotels to ambulance-chasing lawyers to “gentlemen’s clubs”. On our trip this summer, nowhere we have been has had the number of billboards that we have seen here in Georgia. 

Our last night on the road is being spent at Grassy Pond Recreation Area, part of Moody Air Force Base in Valdosta, GA. Surrounded by towering pines and oaks hung with Spanish moss, situated next to a (what else?) grassy pond, and pestered by mosquitoes for the first time in months, we are now really back in The South. We are only 5 miles from the Florida state line... tomorrow, Home to The Villages; Hoo-Ray! We are really looking forward to seeing our Villages friends and neighbors again.

The Grand Ole Opry; Little Jimmy Dickens; Georgia On My Mind; “Heavy” Traffic; Five Bars!

Friday evening was an unusual night; we went to The Grand Ole Opry on the north side of Nashville. After getting clogged up with rush hour traffic, we rolled into the Opry Mills area and grabbed a quick dinner at the Caney Fork Restaurant. Before we even ordered, our server, Monica, brought us five corn fritters smothered in powdered sugar, with the explanation, “We care about your nutrition!” These little suckers were actually almost as sinful as New Orleans beignets, and “That’s sayin’ somethin’!” We had to have a complete Southern down-home dinner, so I had catfish, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, and baked beans (no, not from Boston) and Suzanne had baby back ribs with veggies and home fries. Both meals were excellent. I have to admit to having a Yuengling beer from Pennsylvania in honor of Suzanne’s dad Bill. It was his favorite, and is now also mine. Then we went to the Opry... 

Neither of us had ever been to the home of country music, and it was a real treat. We sat next to a group of four women from Alberta, Canada, who had made the pilgrimage to Nashville primarily for this performance. But lest you think that was unusual, how about the couple from Finland who were attending their 70^th performance. That is not a typo. I think they were probably given seats on stage for their unparalleled dedication to the Opry. The lead-in performer was a Minnie Pearl look-alike, and if you closed your eyes, you could have been listening to Minnie live on the radio back in the 50s.  

The emcees were four different CM stars, but our favorite was Little Jimmy Dickens, who Suzanne had met in the Pentagon when she was aide to the Chairman. She has a photo of 4’11” Jimmy standing next to her boss, General Shelton, who is 6’5”.  Jimmy turned 92 this year, but still has enormous energy and a lively sense of humor.  

Larry Gatlin and Connie Smith were emcees for other segments of the show, but all of them sang as well. Performers included Mark Wills, Restless Heart, The Whites, Craig Campbell, Sarah Darling (the real star of the show), and the World Champion Grand Master Fiddler. I have never seen fingers move that fast!

We were fortunate to meet Dani, one of the Opry’s Hospitality Contacts, in the lobby during intermission. She grew up in the Brentwood area and gave us lots of interesting background on the Opry and their family of performers, most of whom live in the Nashville area.    

Our “campsite” in Unity of Nashville’s parking lot was in Brentwood, which we learned was ground zero for Nashville’s “new money”, much of which was earned in the country music business. Many country stars lived in homes like these... and darn, our invitations to dinner with Keith Urban and Nicole Kidman must have gotten lost in the mail... 

The Bus was happy to be hoofing it southeast on hilly I-40 and I-75 headed for Georgia, at least until we had to share the road with several of these “Oversize Loads”... I have been trying to figure out what this thing was, but I am stumped. A package of Hostess Chocolate Cupcakes goes to the first reader who can identify this beast!  

Coming out of Tennessee, the downhills were only 6% grades, easier than in Utah and Colorado, but there were still several runaway truck ramps, two of which had been used recently like this one. 

I would not want to have been the driver trying to get over to the left hand lane to exit onto that sand-filled ramp at 60-70 mph! The speed limit for heavy trucks here was 25-35 mph.   Once again I let Suzanne do the driving for this section to give her more practice.

The Bus fits into the “commercial truck” category, colloquially known in the military as a BAV (Big-Ass Vehicle), and we were too large to enter via the Main Gate at Dobbins Air Reserve Base in Marietta, Georgia. We were directed to Gate Two, where Tech Sergeant Rick Berghult was kind enough to open the gate just for us late Saturday afternoon. It is normally only open Mon-Fri 0800-1700. Rick is not only A Great Guy, but he is special because his first tour in the military was in the Navy as a signalman (also known as a skivvie-waver, in recognition of the signal flags that signalmen wave as quick as the eye can see to spell out messages over short distances at sea). He shifted over to the Air Force to help improve the quality of personnel in that relatively young service. 

Our second-to-last night on the road is in the heavily wooded campground at Dobbins, where we got the very last open spot right by a beautiful, peaceful pond.  It’s all first come, first served here, and fortunately we got in early. Another bus arrived while we were eating dinner and had to find a spot elsewhere.

Suzanne was happy that we had good cell phone connectivity here; she said, “Hey, Ty, there are five bars here!” I replied, “Well, let’s try the topless one!”  Smack... when will I learn?

Scattered and Smothered; Nashville; No Cruising; Honky-Tonks; Guitars; New Blog!

Karen Taylor-Good met us for breakfast Friday morning at our favorite morning dining place, Waffle House. We had asked Karen to meet us there after hearing how she was inspired to write the words for her song Precious Child on the back of a Waffle House napkin. This song was adopted by Compassionate Friends, which supports parents who have lost a child. The song will really touch your hearts, and is available for free download on Karen's web site, www.karentaylorgood.com (click the Free Downloads button). Karen is an extraordinarily talented singer-songwriter, and we again enjoyed her company over breakfasts of eggs, bacon, omelet, scattered and smothered hash browns, and waffle. Suzanne tried to mimic the “pull, drop, and mark” orders of the WH waitresses, but fortunately the short order cook got the order right, and we didn’t get poached eggs with raw chicken wings. Here is Our Heroine about to lose control and inhale her hash browns.

We then headed into downtown Nashville. The modern AT&T Tower rises like a monolith above the much older and earthy honky-tonk district. Here is Your Faithful Correspondent, apparently walking the dogs, but secretly lusting at the silver Porsche Carrera’s sleek lines. Fortunately I didn’t walk right into the lamp post... 

This warning sign does not refer to embarking on big ships for holidays... and we didn’t hang around until 2 AM to see the young ladies in skimpy skirts and tight blouses who work as tour guides and cultural advisers to tourists. (“Darn it, Suzanne! It would have made an interesting human interest story, don’t you think?” Smack!)  

Nashville is of course a mecca for country music singers, songwriters, and musicians. They pay their dues in the small clubs and honky-tonks here, and hopefully work up to bigger and better things. Suzanne popped into one club at 10:30 AM to see what was happening, and the bar was full and a C&W group was hard at work pickin’ and singin’.

This coach is certainly more colorful than The Bus we travel in, but it doesn’t have slideouts for comfortable living, and we would prefer a Sonoma Valley vineyard over an energy drink as a sponsor... 

I’m reading the hysterical (okay, historical) sign for Ryman Auditorium, the original home of The Grand Ole Opry, to Rudy and Gretchen. I think Rudy was more interested in reading what we euphemistically refer to as “pee-mail”; it’s not that he doesn’t like music, but he enjoys sending and receiving olfactory information from other dogs. Fire hydrants, curbs, and corners of buildings seem to hold more interest for our Rudy. 

I would have stopped at Cecil’s for a shoe shine, but he was apparently on a break, or playing the guitar inside. 

The Stage is a famous Nashville music bar. The elk is saying, “No Dancin’ on Table with Spurs On”. Fortunately, I had left my spurs at home, so I was safe to dance, Suzanne’s comment of “That would not be a pretty sight.” notwithstanding.  

Gruhn Guitars is an amazing place. I haven’t been around so many guitars since I played as backup drummer for Mick Jagger decades ago (that’s another apocryphal story that will have to wait to be explained, maybe next year). There are hundreds of top-of-the-line guitars, banjos and mandolins here. Musicians can come in and play them before buying, and many of the best in the business drop in when they are visiting Nashville. 

The cheaper guitars go for about $3,000. The Martin guitar behind Glen Tracy, a really nice guy who has worked here for 10 years, would sell for $80,000, if you are interested. Regrettably, Glen’s golden retriever is in his final months of corporeal existence; you can tell that Glen is a good Dog Dad by the way he is holding Rudy. He is considering being adopted by a long haired dachshund like Rudy when the time comes... 

The puppies were getting thirsty, so I put water in one side of a double bowl, and as you can see, they share very well. 

We met Gay on her Segue with her cute  Brittany spaniel outside a praline shop. Suzanne had gone inside to tempt her sweet tooth, but when she asked the cook there if the pralines were as good as in New Orleans, he said that they were not... but then, he was from New Orleans, so what else could he say?  

Back to the coach after lunch, and Suzanne gave a reading to Karen Taylor-Good, which went very well. Then we got dressed for a long-anticipated visit to The Grand Ole Opry. I will report on that event tomorrow.

Also, my new blog, Life As Ty Sees It, is now live on-line and available for automatic email signups. Posting will begin early next week after we get settled back home in The Villages, Florida. The last post on this site will be Tuesday, October 2. Visit www.LifeAsTySeesIt.com now to get started. 

Watch Karen Taylor-Good Sing!

Here's a link to a one-minute clip of Karen Taylor-Good singing at last night's Messages of Hope screening in Nashville:  Karen Taylor-Good explains what we're here for!

Lazy Dogs; Crazy Highway; A Sundial; Last Documentary Viewing; Karen Taylor-Good; A New Blog?

Reveille was early Thursday morning, at 0630. We wanted to get an early start for another long driving day. Rudy and Gretchen, however, were not so inclined. Here they are trying to sleep in... I had just said, “Okay, guys, let’s get moving; who is ready for a walk? Come on with Dad outside into the cold, damp grass...  Hey, is anyone listening?” Looks like Dog Dad is being, like, totally dissed and ignored! Who is in charge here?  

There were some big hills on I-81 in southwestern Virginia and on I-40 in Tennessee, but the terrain is far less rugged than Colorado, except where the highway drops down steep hills with tight curves. Fast curves require use of The Bus’ exhaust brake, which quickly drops you from 6^th into 4^th gear. It’s almost like throwing out an anchor, and stabilizes what could be a runaway, 18 ton behemoth into an almost docile lady...well, almost. There were some thrilling moments, fortunately not documented digitally, with Your Correspondent gripping the wheel with white knuckles and muttering Navy expressions when an 18-wheeler passing us at ½ mph over our speed (and holding up 20 cars behind him) wandered slightly into our lane. “Wasn’t that interesting? I would have preferred that idiot have stayed in his own lane... okay, sending love now...  Remember, I am a New Age Kind of Guy...."

This sundial by artist Preston Farabow at a Tennessee rest stop caught our attention. Suzanne was trying to tell time with hand signals, but I think the sundial was more accurate. Rudy and Gretchen were obviously confused...  

We have arrived in Nashville! The Bus is now parked in Unity of Nashville’s parking lot; campgrounds were 15-20 miles away, too far to commute from/to. Rev. Cherie graciously allowed us to set up camp here; I hope she won’t mind the campfire or the trucker friends I made on I-40 who promised to visit for the pig roast and to swap highway stories.

To be serious for a few moments, we had a very special Messages of Hope viewing Thursday evening. Suzanne introduced the film, answered questions, and explained details of the film, such as Ann Lavelle’s remote control. 

Suzanne then introduced Karen Taylor-Good, the Nashville singer-songwriter who wrote and sang If Not for Love, which is played at the end of the movie.

Karen then sang If Not for Love and Precious Child “live.” She is a real Star, a delightful person, and an extremely talented and gifted musician. Karen spends a lot of time on the road touring, and we were honored that she was able to be at the documentary viewing last night.

Suzanne met Polly Case at the Afterlife Awareness Conference co-sponsored by the Association for Research and Enlightenment (ARE) in Virginia Beach last year. Polly was excited about the possibility of the Messages of Hope Tour visiting Nashville, and made sure that we made a right turn at the I-40 West/I-81 South junction. It was great to meet her (again for Suzanne, first time for me).

This documentary viewing ends the scheduled events of the Messages of Hope North America 2012 Tour. We will spend a day catching our breath here in Nashville, and then head home to The Villages in central Florida. We expect to arrive home on Monday 1 October. This blog will continue until we get home, and then will be re-born under a new title, Life As Ty Sees It. More info to follow for those interested in keeping up with my sometimes quirky view of life....

Shenandoah Valley; Fill Her Up; A Less Than Mellow Ride; Escaped Ax Murderers? Tennessee!

Good thing we didn’t take The Bus on this narrow bridge over the Shenandoah River near our campground.  This is typical of rural bridges connecting small communities in the Shenandoah Valley. Major four lane bridges can be 20 miles away, but might be the only access when the river is running high in Spring. Canoeists and kayakers have to portage (carry their boats) around these bridges or risk entrapment and serious injury or drowning. 

These photos illustrate the blue haze that usually hangs over the mountains of Virginia. The Blue Ridge Mountains are beloved to hikers, cyclists, equestrians, and leaf-peepers. We were too early for peeping, since mid-October usually finds the fall colors in prime display. 

Once on I-81, we needed to refuel, since we had avoided topping off our diesel tank due to the outrageous prices in New York State (up to $4.45/gal, compared to $3.89 in Northern Virginia). It was also a good opportunity to check tire inflation, which is 115 psi, as compared to an automobile’s 30-32 psi (we have two tires on the front axle and four on the rear; the back tires are called “dualies” because there are two on each side). Here is The Bus with some of her cousins in the Pilot Truck Stop. 76 gallons later the tank was full (it holds 100 gals) and my wallet was $300.00 lighter. Ouch! 

We decided to break up our 330 mile day with a bike ride at Carvins Cove Natural Reserve outside Salem, Virginia. The one and a quarter lane wide road in was more than a bit challenging, very steep and narrow since we had the full rig of bus and tow car. Yes, Bob, I cleverly had Suzanne driving this section; this shot is of the easy part just before the overhanging trees and switchbacks... 

The young kid on the phone at the mountain bike shop said that this ride was “not very aerobically challenging”... well, either he is another 16 year old punk who was setting up his elders or has never ridden the trail we rode. This wasn’t a Mellow Ride, it was HARD! Here is Your Correspondent trying to catch his breath while his Lovely Bride has hardly broken a sweat. 

It wasn’t like Suzanne was trying to push me to exhaustion, because I thought I heard her gasping for breath as well, but I ask you, does this woman look tired? No! 

We headed back to The Bus and met a local paddler, Jim, getting ready to launch his beautiful kayak. We told him about our week-long trip to Barkley Sound in British Columbia, and paddling with orcas, and by coincidence, that trip is on his bucket list. I think our raving about it convinced him that he has to go kayaking in BC sooner rather than later.  

While I was showering (Ah, the joy of traveling with your own bathroom), Suzanne met a group of escaped ax murderers. (Well, it makes for a good headline, don’t you think? As journalists often say, “Never let facts get in the way of a good story!”) Actually, they were a group of “old guys” and high school kids, all volunteers, who were creating a new hiking trail where there are now just trees and thick underbrush.

It was a long day’s driving, and right at 1800 we pulled into the Kingsport, Tennessee, Wal-Mart parking lot. I opened a very palatable Chardonnay while Suzanne created fabulous crab cakes, a favorite recipe from her mom Ruthie. It’s tough being on the road...

A New State Park; “I’m Sleeping Where?”; Idle Hands in an Old Time Diner; Front Royal Images; Best Bike Trail Ever! Help, Mouth on Fire!!!

We rolled into Virginia’s Shenandoah River State Park outside Front Royal late yesterday and got The Bus set up for daughter Elisabeth’s visit. She was driving from Washington, DC, for a visit and some serious mountain biking. It’s a lovely park, only two years old, and has flat, level, concrete pads for RV’s, a real luxury. The leaves are just thinking about turning into their autumn attire, and several red headed woodpeckers are going rat-a-tat-tat in dead treetops looking for lunch. After a nice ribeye steak dinner with a quite decent Cabernet, we got ready to hit the sack. But wait! We tried opening the couch into the double bed that we thought it made into, but Nothing Worked! Was this merely a sham convertible couch? Surely Engineer Ty could figure this out... I pulled out this drawer, and Suzanne said, “What is that? Storage we didn’t know about?” “Yup.” (We have had The Bus for 18 months and didn't realize that drawer was even there!)

My Lovely Daughter Elisabeth, in a laughing voice, asked, “What else do you have that you don’t know about?” Suzanne replied, quite logically (I thought), “Well, we don’t know that, do we?” I was sweating for almost 10 minutes before finding the cleverly hidden and disguised lever that presto-change-o turned the couch into a “short-and-soon-to-be-lumpy-and-actually-not-very-comfortable” bed. (I almost had the naughty thought that she deserved a lumpy bed for making fun of her Dad, but I would never do that...)  

On Tuesday morning we went to breakfast in an old-fashioned downtown diner in Front Royal. Wynn’s had a nice menu and typical down-home breakfasts. 

I was craving real country ham, which, as every Southerner knows, you can only get south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Fortunately, we had crossed that boundary on Monday afternoon in northern Maryland. While awaiting our meals, I used my idle time to build a pyramid. My Lovely Wife, now apparently in league with My Lovely Daughter, made jest of my engineering prowess. “What is this, Pick on Ty Week?” I asked.     

While sightseeing around Front Royal, the Train Engineer’s Daughter climbed up on this old red caboose, pretending to be on a luxurious coach tour of North America... "Hey, you are..!" 

Ever wondered how those street clocks keep good time? Well, they probably don’t... here are Fred and Myron working on the town’s old analog clocks. Fred adjusts the time while Myron keeps nitwits from walking under the cherry picker... 

Instead of the two government workers, the cherry picker crane, a safety truck, a government employees union shop steward, OSHA regulations, and civil service pensions, why not hire Gepetto and his assistant from this local clockmaker’s shop, Pinoccio's? (Yes, that's how they spelled it...) It would have to be cheaper; after all, Pinoccio’s health insurance would only have to cover termites. But could you trust him? After all, we know that he had a problem with a nose that grows longer when he fibs. Well, as long as he wasn’t elected to public office, he should be okay...  

This impressive military-based school sits on a hill overlooking Front Royal. Founded in the 1890s, Randolph-Macon Academy has a solid reputation for quality education, and the buildings are gorgeous. 

Unfortunately, “The Place” that used to be a business is no longer in operation; but it had a memorable sign! (The sign reads, "There is no place like this place anywhere near this place so this must be THE PLACE".)

We went mountain biking on the black diamond-rated (“Difficult” level) Bear Bottom Trail (yes, you read that correctly), which was probably the prettiest singletrack trail that we have ridden so far. It wound up and down rolling hills through heavy hardwood and pine woods, with occasional switchbacks and rock gardens to keep you on your toes. We stopped for a breather and a photo, and only had a couple of minor falls between us. 

For lunch we sampled one of Chris and Gina Lavelle’s gifts, Bill Gray’s Hot Sauce. Suzanne almost followed the directions, but had she done so, I might be writing this blog from the local ICU. The directions said to add the contents of the jar (17 ounces of fiery cayenne hot sauce that even Mexicans raised in Tabasco province would balk at eating) to 4 ounces of ground beef... as it was, she only added 8 ounces to 16 ounces of hamburger, and it required the use of this fire extinguisher to cool down the mixture! I think Chris decided to get even for the gooey stuff I put on his shoes at the race...