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DAY
RIDE 2/11/2017
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February
11, 2017
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With another
surgery coming up quick to correct a blood clot in my left leg, I know
riding time will be a ways off. The weather today is supposed to be 60ish
which will work quite nicely. Andy, my long time riding friend, is up
for it so we are meeting at the Cracker Barrel on I24 on his side of town.
I decide I'll take Frost, the one in the middle since she has the best
set of radials this morning.
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It's a quick and quiet dash
across Nashville to one of our favorite breakfast places. As Andy says
'Anywhere a fellow can start
with Cracker Barrel works.'
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I do
it a little different today and order a cheese and bacon omelet which is
quite good. Most folks don't know you can do that at a Cracker Barrel. As
we munch on our vittles, we talk about our upcoming Highway 50 ride across
the country. We'll start in Ocean City, MD and end up in Sacramento, CA.
I plan on getting pictures of the signs on both ends. |
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But after
the eatin' comes the ridin' so we head out on a route that I just sort of
cobbled together. |
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Since
we've been riding this area since we were youngsters, it's always a challenge
to find interesting roads we haven't been on. I just pick some squiggly
lines in a general direction, not knowing if they will be paved or unpaved.
We figure we can sort that out when we come to it. |
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One thing
I love about the Tennessee countryside is the interesting old houses sprinkled
throughout. Some remind me a lot of my grandparent's farm houses like this
one. |
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But you
have to pay attention to the road, cause sometimes it goes sharp left ... |
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and the
next time it may go sharp right. Unless you like clearing brush with a motorcycle,
staying focused on the road is pretty important. |
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Near
Versailles, is an old house that someone has taken the time to spruce up
a little bit. |
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We wander
around and finally end up on roads we both know. Our journey takes through
the booming metropolis of Verona where Andy grew up. |
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It also
happens to be the birthplace of Buford
Ellington, who served as Governor of Tennessee from 1959 to 1963,
and again from 1967 to 1971. He and Frank Clement sort of swapped back and
forth during a period of 18 years. |
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It's
about time for us to take a defuel break and Andy is due a fuel break, so
we stop at a convenience store on the edge of Lewisburg where we both were
raised. As I'm chilling a bit, I take a good look at his back tire. He knew
it was getting close but it looks a lot 'closer' than we thought. We decide
we'll shorten the route up a little bit just to be sure. Though I have a
GPS, I still have a lot of roads in my head, so my poor GPS will just have
to be confused for a while. |
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One
of my favorite runs in this area is down Spring Place Pike, the road that
takes me past where my grandparents had a farm and the first house I lived
in. From this curve, if I took a right I'd end up going over Yell Hill to
my great-grandparent's farm. |
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As we
zip by the old home place, I barely catch a picture of where the 4 room
shack stood that my family and I first lived in. Just to the left is the
big rock that the 'house out back' used to sit on. The shack has been torn
down for a long time, but I can still see it my mind's eye - me and my sister
as two little snotty nose kids playing out in the yard amongst the banty
hens and roosters with toys we made from sticks and cans and such. One thing
about being raised poor - you learn to get by with little and you learn
you need little to get by. It's a valuable trait that will serve you well
as you pass through this old world. Stuff is just that - stuff and you will
leave it all behind one day regardless how big your pile is. |
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Just
down the road, we come to the big hill with some dandy curves. |
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Before
I got 'motorized', I use to pedal my one speed bicycle with coaster brakes
to the top of this thing and see how fast I could come down it. It's a little
tricky as there's a sharp curve right at the bottom of the hill. |
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I have
to chuckle when I pass this little church. We weren't much for church going,
but my momma took us here when I was about 3 years old. To hear her tell
it, I decided I'd get down and crawl under the pews to see what I could
see. Well, judgment fell upon my young sittin' equipment when my momma finally
got a hold of me and took me right out on the front porch there for the
administration of it. |
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And
a ride through here would not be complete without a nod to the old country
store at Possum Trot which has long been closed. |
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In these
hills and hollers is where my momma's folks were born and raised and buried.
Most of my kinfolks on momma's side are buried in this church cemetery,
including my momma and my daddy beside her. If I planted a headstone in
a vacant plot, I could be buried here also. But I figure most folks who
want see what I look like in a casket will be from the Nashville area, so
why put them to the bother of driving all the way down here. One thing is
for sure - on that day it won't matter to me at all. |
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Barns
around here tend to be short on maintenance until they finally are overcome
by gravity. Looks like this one has had some mighty fine 'correctional'
work done to it including a new metal roof. |
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And
soon we pass the cemetery where my great great grandfather who fought in
the Civil War is buried. He enlisted at the age of 16 and saw half of his
unit killed at the Battle
of Stones River, their first major engagement. By the time he was
19, he was a POW
in Elmira, New York. I plan one day to do a ride tracing the movements
of his regiment, visit the battlefields that he fought on and end up in
Elmira at the site of the Union POW camp which was about as bad as the Confederate
Andersonville
POW camp in the South. |
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There's
some more mighty fine old farm houses out this way as we make our way toward
Cornersville. |
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Cornersville
is named for its location near the corner where Giles, Maury, Bedford and
Lincoln counties once met. But they changed the boundaries in 1870 and now
it is in Marshall County. It is here my momma went to school and met my
daddy. |
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Then
it's up and over the ridge on our way to Lynnville and down Lynnville Hill
with the curve at the bottom. |
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When
you get down the hill, this beautiful example of southern architecture sits
along side a small lake. It's pretty 'four square' style house with columns
on all four sides and matching chimneys.. |
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Nothing
much happening in Lynnville today as we make our way into the city proper. |
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I decide
we'll take a little back road from Lynnville to Culleoka then up to Columbia.
When we get just outside of Columbia, Andy hangs a right on 412 back to
231 to get to his house. I take a left and head to 246 to get to mine. I
always smile when I pass under this low railroad bridge. Obviously some
drivers can't read or don't know how tall their vehicles actually are judging
by the dents and the bends in the bridge bottom. |
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As I
near Leipers Fork, I view another lovely mansion up on a hill. From what
I can tell, someone has bought this property and turned into a nature preserve
- judging from the signs. |
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I always
think when I ride through here that some feller has more invested in his
fences than I have invested in my whole house! |
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Soon
I pop back on the Trace which just seems like a nice way to end the ride.
The upper end has just been paved, so it's smoother than a baby's bottom
and a real joy to ride. |
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And as always when I get back
to the Holler, Lady Bug is patiently waiting for me. I firmly believe
she has a hidden GPS monitor attached to all my vehicles. It seems she
always knows when I stop somewhere to eat like Cracker Barrel that has
biscuits or rolls. She is our sweet little 'Biscuit Queen' and as soon
as I get off the bike, she asks me -
'Where's My Biscuit, Daddy?'
Or at least that's what I understand
her to say. And as usual, I hand over a couple of Cracker Barrel biscuits
that she quickly inhales.
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Once
again it's been a great day with a great friend on a great ride. I cherish
it knowing that I will probably be out of the saddle for a month. But a
feller should do what he can do while he can do it, for there will come
a day when he can't. |
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THE
END
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