Chasing Cars: Bristol (and the South)

Sunday 26th August

If yesterday had been heaven for me then today was Andy’s day; we had 340 miles of driving ahead of us as we headed out to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. It wasn’t the National Park that Andy was looking forward to but our rest stop. We’d decided to break our journey by stopping for lunch along the way and picked the town of Corbin, KY on the basis that it was exactly half-way along the route. It turned out that it was also home to Sanders Café – better known as the very first KFC. Perfect!

I briefly thought I’d discovered the secret of getting Andy out of the motel room of a morning – clapping my hands together and hissing at him as if he was a wayward cat – but he tired of this and began to ignore me until I mentioned the idea of getting some breakfast. I suggested a fry-up at the truck stop along the road but this was apparently not up to snuff so he made do with a Subway. Now I appreciate that I’m not a marketing man but they really should rename it the ‘Heart attack in a sub special’ or something. I gave it a miss and bought an apple instead which, looking back, was never going to set me up for the day.

We left the interstate when we spotted a sign for Dollywood – there must have been a photo opportunity there, surely? – but turned back after stopping at a visitor center to be told it was many miles away. Shortly after we joined the back of a huge traffic jam so, spotting an exit,I turned off in the hope that the satnav would find us a new route. Once again it came to the rescue and, not only did it steer us round the traffic, it enabled us to enjoy a Dukes Of Hazzard moment as we sped down six or seven miles of dirt track before finally rejoining the interstate the other side of the traffic jam.

It proved reasonably tricky to find Sanders Café as we didn’t have a proper address for it. And, as anyone knows, if you’re going to find somewhere, it generally helps to have an address. We eventually lucked upon it which was very good news as we were both starving by this point. Nothing is ever easy, of course, but getting served in there proved to be next to impossible. If the Colonel had been there he would have fired them all.

Other than a quick stop in nearby London – another photo op, of course! – we were foot to the floor after lunch. Mammoth Cave beckoned and we both agreed that it would be nice to end the day early for once, light up the bbq and drink some beer. When we’d stopped in the welcome center on the Kentucky border we had picked up a leaflet for a place calling itself Dinosaur World. If we finished early enough it might even be amusing to stop there.

In the end it all went horribly wrong. We missed the exit for Dinosaur World and then, well I’m not really sure how else I can describe it, the brown stuff struck the propeller. We’d ignored a sign for Mammoth Cave and decided to follow the directions suggested by the satnav – it had yet to let us down, of course, so why would it suddenly do so now? It took us ten or fifteen miles off the interstate and then dumped us in someone’s driveway. Some people may say that I’m not the brightest person in this world of ours, but even I could spot that this wasn’t a national park so we consulted the map.

I spotted a route and handed the map to Andy so that he could direct me along it. I won’t go into too much detail except to say that there were a lot of raised voices, some swearing and I even damaged the steering wheel when I punched the horn in frustration. After driving for an hour – with continued reassurances that we were going in the right direction – I pulled the car over and got my hands on the map. We had so NOT been heading in the right direction. Seeing the commotion, and probably sensing that I was going to kill my navigator, a helpful local pulled over and offered directions. It seems that our problems had started back in Brownsville so, once we arrived back there, we stopped for pizza to celebrate having wasted half a tank of gas. Genius.

We were soon out of Brownsville and into Mammoth Cave National Park at long long last. It was getting dark; so much for a nice early conclusion to the day. We pitched our tents, lit a fire and hoped that a couple of beers would relieve the tension.

Monday 27th August

There was quite a lot on the agenda for today. First up was the 9am ‘Historic’ tour at Mammoth Cave. Then it was into the car and south to Bowling Green where we were booked on the 130pm tour of the Corvette factory. Finally there was the National Corvette Museum to visit. With all of this ahead of us we could have done with a decent nights sleep.

Unfortunately, around 330am, the zip on the front door of my tent flew up. It was Andy and he was freaking out about something or other. I seem to remember being most unsupportive and mumbling something about if he didn’t get out of my tent and let me go to sleep then he really did have something to worry about. This seemed to do the trick but he spent the rest of the night in and out of the car, slamming the doors and setting off the car alarm.

I was up in plenty of time for the cave tour but, for someone who had seemingly been awake all night, Andy was totally unprepared. The number of times that he was in and out of the trunk, you’d have thought he’d have had time to pack the whole campground up, but no. It turns out he heard a noise in the night and thought there were prowlers around our tents. I guess it was probably a deer, but prowlers sound more exciting, I guess. I’m surprised he didn’t claim it was a bear.

Finally we were ready and we made our way to collect the tickets that I had booked previously online. Only then did we discover that we’d skipped into a different time zone and were therefore an hour early. Damn, I hate time zones! Is there a reason that they don’t erect signs along the highway so you know where you’re at? I’m sure there is a perfectly good one, it just doesn’t make sense to me right now. Perhaps you can help out?

We took the opportunity to have a look round the ubiquitous gift shop and to chat with the rangers; something that I always find fun. I just wish that we could stop the continual ‘where are you from?’ discussion. I think I might have a badge made up for my next trip: ‘My name is Craig. I am from London and, no, it’s crap there. Which is why I am visiting here…’

Finally it was our turn to assemble outside the building and wait for our tour leader. She appeared in the (rather bulky, it has to be said) shape of someone calling herself Ranger Maria. She had a fantastically entertaining manner about her and I knew instantly that a) this was going to be fun and b) if she was able to make it down and back out on a regular basis then I was not going to have any problems. Both would prove to be accurate; I really enjoyed the tour and would recommend it to anyone.

We hopped into the car and headed south to Bowling Green for the Corvette factory as soon as we were out of the cave. We had a small amount of time to kill before our allocated tour time at the factory so we had a look around the local area. Back at the plant we arrive just as the safety briefing is starting and then it’s straight onto the factory floor. I had no idea what to expect, as I’ve never done a tour of this type before, but it proved to be really interesting. There were a mix of people on our tour - from Corvette fanatics through to old ladies who have never driven a car in their lives - but they all found it fascinating. Having worked on a factory floor myself I had expected it to be pressurised and monotonous for the workers but I was surprised at how laid back it was and how happy they seemed. I caught sight of workers heckling each other, throwing pieces of trash at each other when they weren’t looking and generally having a good time. Whilst we walked the carefully marked out route we were constantly on the lookout for moving plant and machinery. When the driver of a tug and trailer pulled up sharply I thought we’d done something wrong. No, he was just stopping for a quick chat with one of the members of our tour party! Fantastic.

From the factory it was across the road to the National Corvette Museum. I found the museum reasonably interesting but, after the factory tour, it didn’t quite do it for me. After a quick look around yet another gift shop we decided to head off to the hotel. Bowling Green is the only place between Louisville and Nashville where you can buy a drink, so we had decided to stop here overnight. As it transpired we probably could have made Nashville this evening but it was nice to slow down for once. I take the opportunity to grab an hours sleep whilst Andy is in the gym and we finally agree on some ‘alone time’ this evening. I’ve never much like the idea of marriage but, having now spent this time with someone who cannot do anything on their own, the idea terrifies me! I have taken the opportunity to stay in the room and take advantage of the first wifi connection of the trip, whilst Andy is downstairs in the hotel bar.

Tuesday 28th August

Bristol had been the sole reason for this trip: If I’d not managed to get my hands on those race tickets then it would never have happened. The rest of the trip was just icing on the cake, yet Nashville was different, it had become something more than icing. I had become rather enamoured with the idea of Nashville and I was very excited about it when I woke this morning. Strange really as I knew next to nothing about the city but then I guess that’s the fun of these types of trip – the discovery.

It didn’t take long to reach Nashville but, in keeping with the previous navigational debacle, we headed away from the city before we finally managed to find it. I’m not entirely sure how that is possible but, take my word for it, it happened. We drove through the city to get a feel for the place and it was immediately giving off good vibes. We happened across what we in the UK know as a roundabout – I believe you call them rotaries or something along those lines over here in the US – which we felt certain would cause chaos. Miraculously, and rather disappointingly for us, everyone gave the impression that they knew what they were doing when they encountered it. If anything it was more civilised than a roundabout in the UK, and that’s just no fun!

All of the guidebooks intimate that the place to start your visit to Nashville is the Country Music Hall Of Fame so we decided to head in that direction and see what happened. As we made our way towards it, Andy mentioned that he’d been tipped off to visit a bar called Tootises. The tip had come from one of the guys in the hotel bar yesterday evening and we had been promised good music, a great atmosphere and cheap beer. I’m not sure what else you can ask from a bar so, when we spotted it just along the street from the Hall Of Fame, we knew we had to go in for a couple of drinks.

Tootsies Orchid Lounge, along with numerous other shops and venues, was located in a street called Broadway which we spent several very enjoyable hours exploring. The atmosphere in and around Broadway was fantastic, even in the middle of a random Tuesday afternoon in August. Nashville is known as Music City and it’s a title that, even if self-appointed, is well deserved. We passed dozens and dozens of independent venues, some places whose names I recognised from Memphis such as Sun Studios and BB Kings and even the large chains such as the Hard Rock Café and Hooters had got in on the act. Andy and I had a disagreement over the latter – his face lit up when he saw Hooters and he wanted to drop the idea of Tootsies and go there instead. Maybe I’m old fashioned but, personally speaking, I can’t think of anything more tragic than a Hooters.

In the end we gave Hooters a miss and headed back to Tootsies where we spent a very enjoyable hour watching Jimmy Snyder and his band – and a number of the audience who they would pull up on stage - put on the most amazing show. The atmosphere in there was fantastic and it was really interesting to peruse the photo lined walls known as the ‘Wall of Fame’ and find out about the history of the place. It is said that early performers included Willie Nelson, Kris Kristofferson, Roger Miller, Patsy Cline and many more. The owner, one Tootsie Bess, was said to have a cigar box full of IOUs behind the bar from impoverished writers and performers which, if they’d not been settled by years end, a group of Opry performers would take care of to keep the place afloat. It was that sort of place that you can see why. I loved it and it was with some sadness that we made our way out of town to the Vegas Strip falseness of the Gaylord Opryland Hotel.

Why were we heading to the Gaylord? We may have been two guys travelling together but it honestly wasn’t the name! Although I do confess I did take the soaps and potions from the bathroom as a souvenir. Once we’d found the bathroom, that was, for this was a massive hotel which boasted 3,000 rooms. With its indoor gardens, the shopping and scores of bars and restaurants, all it needed was a casino and it would truly have been at home on The Strip. No, the reason that we were heading to the Gaylord was that we had tickets for that evenings performance at the Grand Ole Opry and the Gaylord was part of the same complex.

Once we’d found our room and freshened up we had to hurry off to pick up our tickets and make the 7pm performance. I’d been told that it was a good show but, being kind here, it was truly abysmal. It really was the worst hour of the trip – even surpassing being sat on the tarmac at Atlanta waiting for a gate to become free. Why an hour, you ask? Well, because it took us an hour to realise it wasn’t going to get any better and walk out!

It was still early so we decided to go and have a look around the area before retiring to the confines of the Gaylord. We had earlier spotted a place called Cooters which, it will come as no surprise, was themes around the Dukes Of Hazzard so we decided to go and investigate that. When we arrived it was closed but there was a very lively bar just along from there so that would be a good place to spend an hour or two. It proved a great little place, in spite of the karaoke contest, and we had a few beers there before the heat got too much and we headed back to the air conditioned loveliness of the Gaylord where we spent four or five hours, and far too much money, sampling the wares of almost every bar in the place. We ended the evening in the Jack Daniels bar watching the most amazing performer that I’ve ever seen – Elvis had nothing on this guy – before I left Andy and stumbled back to our room.

Yes, I think it’s fair to say that Nashville was far more than icing.

Wednesday 29th August

I woke with a stinking hangover, showered then attempted to wake Andy. After a couple of false starts we finally left the hotel room, only to discover we couldn’t find our way out of the hotel. Eventually we succeeded and were surprised to discover it had rained heavily during the night. I don’t know if it was the alcohol from last night or the fact that we’d spent the last hours in the indoor gardens but, either way, it was surreal. When we’d given up with the bar across the street last night it was unbearably hot, now it was like being back home in England.

A couple of powerslides around the parking lot later – god I love rear wheel drive cars – we found ourselves outside the food court at the Opryland Mills and headed inside. I’m not usually a fan of eating first thing in the morning but, boy, did that greasy offering taste good!

I was in two minds - after the amount that we had consumed last night – whether a visit to the Jack Daniels distillery would be a good idea but we headed down anyway. It proved to be a good decision as, not only was the free tour excellent but they gave you lemonade on your return to the visitor center. They know how to look after their loyal customers down there!

We had heard that downtown Lynchburg is a real unusual place to visit so, once we’d done our best to drink them dry of the free lemonade lemonade – we didn’t succeed - we wandered down to see for ourselves. One of the things that had surprised me about the distillery was the lack of the gift shop that seems to blight every other place that we’d visited. It was a little disconcerting but, thankfully, downtown Lynchburg made up for that with eight or ten shops selling anything and everything related to Jack Daniels. It all became a little tedious after a while and neither of us bought anything.

Having said that, Lynchburg is a fun little town, and well worth a visit even if you’re teetotal. Maybe I have Dukes Of Hazzard on my mind after yesterdays encounters but, for some reason, Lynchburg reminded me of the Hazzard County that I’d watched on TV as a kid. As I’m no longer a kid – in age at least - the lack of a Boar’s Nest concerned me somewhat; I’m not sure I like this whole dry county business!

For a town of just 361 people, Lynchburg sure has a heck of a big cemetery. Jasper Newton “Jack” Daniels had kicked his safe in rage one morning in 1911 and died of blood poisoning shortly afterwards. When we learned that he was buried in the local cemetery we had planned to go and find it but, when we realised just how huge it was, we quietly gave up on that plan and headed back into Lynchburg. We took shelter from a sudden rain shower in the Moore County Jail which was had been used right up until 1990 but which was now a museum. We then took lunch in the adjacent Caboose Café – highly recommended – and then hopped back in the car: destination Chattanooga.

We’re now chilling out in the Ramada just outside downtown Chattanooga where we managed to haggle the price down to a bargain $40. After the hassle of getting to the room at the Gaylord it is a beautiful sight to look outside the door and be able to see our car. Talking of which, we’re going to head downtown shortly to get our bearings and, inevitably, some food for Andy. Signing off.

Thursday 30th August

With a long day ahead of us – planned stops at the Tennessee Aquarium, Ruby Falls, Rock City and the Incline Railway before driving back to Atlanta – an early start was called for. Andy was un-amused with the idea but he cheered up considerably when I suggested popping next door to the Cracker Barrel for breakfast might be an agreeable way to kick the day off. I really should have thought a little more carefully before walking through the door; a massive breakfast isn’t the greatest idea before a busy day. And, take my word for it, it was most certainly massive!

With so much ahead of us it was important to plan the day carefully if we were to going to get to do it all. The plan was to start at the bottom of the Lookout Mountain so that we get the full benefit of the Incline Railway as we ascended. Unfortunately, the satnav took us right up to the top instead, so that plan was shot. After a lengthy diversion down to the lower station we rode the tracks back to the top. We’d got talking to a couple of guys from Kentucky whilst we waited for the train and they explained how the railway worked before entertaining us with a hilarious commentary as we were pulled up the steep incline. At the top we found yet another gift shop – who the hell buys the rubbish that these places sell? – and chatted to the assistant for a few minutes whilst we waited for our return train. She assured us that the cable hauling the train had yet to break, “In all the time I’ve worked here. And I’ve worked here for six months.” Reassuring!

There is a lookout tower atop the upper station and we surveyed the area before catching the return train. We couldn’t help but wonder why the two train drivers would leap from their seat and switch trains as they passed each other. We never did get to the bottom of that; I can only presume that they were bored.

At the lower station we collected the car and made our way back to the top of the mountain once more. We were heading off to visit the (infamous) Rock City. Now I’m all for a tacky tourist draw, and I’d been looking forward to this one, but I was really disappointed in the end. It truly was terrible! I came away a couple of hours later feeling as I had done at the Grand Old Opry – like I had a valuable part of my life. I’ll comment no further on Rock City as I’ll probably say something that I regret.

The final stop on Lookout Mountain was Ruby Falls. I had heard bad things about Ruby Falls and, after my experience at Rock City, I was dreading our visit. Especially when Andy once again declared that he had to eat. We faced a twenty minute wait for the next tour to depart so there really should have been more than enough time to choose what he wanted to eat but, after much deliberation, he decided that he didn’t fancy anything. Right up until about thirty seconds from the time that we were called to the elevator…

As we descended my fears of another waste of time returned but I am delighted to report that they were totally unjustified. The tour guide was absolutely fantastic and Ruby Falls, and the caves that lead to them, were equally good. It is funny how, on every trip, there always seems to be one place that you don’t expect to like all that much but which turns out to be one of your favourite destinations. For me that must be Ruby Falls. I’d recommend it to anyone.

After a short walk around Chattanooga - looking for food, can you believe? – and along it’s waterfront we headed in to the Tennessee Aquarium. Now I’m a devoted fan of the ‘great outdoors’ but it’s probably fair to say that relates far more to the actual landscape than what live in it but the aquarium proved itself a fantastic experience. We have this sort of thing in the UK, of course, but you’d only find them in the most major of cities such as London or Edinburgh so you can imagine my surprise to find something of such quality in such a (relatively) minor city. If you’re thinking of visiting Chattanooga I can highly recommend the place and it was with some sadness that we found ourselves back in the car once more, destination Atlanta.

I had been thinking of returning to the campground at Stone Mountain for the evening to keep costs down. It would also have given me opportunity to head off for a good hike to try and burn off some of those calories consumed at breakfast but the weather had turned foul whilst we were underground at Ruby Falls and had not improved. In the end we decided to press on along the Interstate until we were south of Atlanta so that we’d not have to fight the traffic as we headed down to the Warner Robins Air Force Base tomorrow morning.

Spotting a sign for a Holiday Inn we decided that would be a good place to stop but we were too tight to pay their best price of $195 for a room. We are now next door at a (very acceptable) Motel 6, leaching off the Holiday Inn wifi, feeling pleased with ourselves at having saved $150. We have taken the opportunity to empty everything out of the car and bring it inside for a thorough sort out. Already we have filled the large bin that was outside our door and we’ve not yet finished. Despite our best efforts at the outlet centers, I think everything is going to fit back in the bags that we bought with us. Miracles DO happen!

Friday 31st August

I don’t know what it is. When I wake up I can shower, clean my teeth, eat breakfast, check out and be in the car within 30 minutes. At no point on this trip have we managed anything less than 90. That would generally include packing and unpacking the bags half a dozen times, flicking through all the TV stations 18 times and, when you finally seem ready to hit the road, taking the bags in and out of the car 24 times. Then there’s that final problem that we all encounter of having to return to the room to check that you’ve not left your shoes behind, only to realise that they’re on your feet. You wanna know something? The earlier we get up, the slower the process. The slower the process, the earlier we have to get up. It’s painful, it really is!

Thankfully there’s relatively little driving to be done now so things are all very loose for the final two days of the journey. Today we headed down to the Museum of Aviation on Robins Air Force Base in Warner Robins. It was an easy 100 mile drive south and I’d been looking forward to visiting but, if truth be told, had little idea what to expect as we don’t really have that sort of thing in the UK.

On the way south we got to talking about the best and worst parts of the trip so far and we both agreed on the shopping as having been the biggest problem for us. Andy had run out of clothes and was regretting not buying more and I, having spent an hour last night trying to ram everything that I had bought into my bags, was worrying about how to get everything home again! I spotted a sign for yet another designer outlet center – are these things everywhere or what? – and decided to swing off so that Andy could get a few more bits. He came away happy and I, seemingly unable to resist, came away annoyed at myself. Seriously, if I get stopped at customs in Manchester there’s gonna be issues!

We pulled into a visitor center along the interstate for some driving directions to the museum and, yet again. I was seriously impressed with the people there. I absolutely love visitor centers in the US. We have them back home, of course, but it’s amazing to see how they continue to employ those who are seemingly the worst possible person to do the job. In the US they have it bang on.

Warner Robins itself proved to be just another row of Wendys, McDonalds, Arbys, Taco Bells and the like but, emerging from the other end of fast food row we were greeted with the sight of a fighter plane ahead of us. We were amazed to discover the size of the museum and even more surprised to discover that it was free admission. I was enjoying it already!

Four hours later we emerged with smiles on our faces. Whilst it is a shame to see quite so many planes seemingly abandoned outside in various states of disrepair, the three hangers rammed full of planes (with a fourth under construction) were absolutely fantastic. It would not be unfair to say I enjoyed myself there and, if I’m ever in this area again, I will definitely return to see what they do with the new hanger which, I was told by the very friendly guy on the front desk, was to be devoted to the Second World War, a subject that interests me greatly.

Feeling surprisingly tired by now we decided to head back to Atlanta for the baseball, stopping at Atlanta Motor Speedway along the way. This plan was thwarted by a sudden rain storm which caused at least four large wrecks and a lengthy tailback. What is it with rain and people’s inability to drive in it? Instead of stopping at the track we took a detour across country and headed right to the hotel to freshen up before heading to the game.

Just before we were to leave Andy announced that he wasn’t interested in baseball as it ‘took too long.’ Whether it rained or not I was definitely going and so I took off on my own. It was fantastic – not the game, that was terrible – but getting out there on my own again, having the freedom to do what I want to do when I wanted to do it. I think I said it previously but, if that makes me selfish, then shoot me. I had a great time and all but decided on the spot that travelling alone is the future for me. Who’d have thought that six months ago when the idea scared the life out of me? If you’re reading this and have yet to travel alone, do it, you’ll not regret it.

Saturday 1st September

The final day. Bugger. Having been slave to the alarm clock for the past couple of weeks we decided to wake up in our own time today as there were just two places that we had to visit today – Atlanta Motor Speedway to pick up last years Nascar review DVD and the Martin Luther King Jr National Historic Site. I was taken to the latter by a friend last year, not expecting to find it interesting, but came away with a real interest in the subject. This led me to visit a number of related sites earlier this year and, having now visited Birmingham, Montgomery, Little Rock and Memphis, where MLK was shot, I felt a desire to return to the place he was born once more.

Before I returned though, we would head south to Atlanta Motor Speedway. I didn’t really know what to expect but I had read that you could take track tours for around five bucks. That sounded like a bargain to me and I felt sure that Andy would approve.

When I was finally allowed to leave the motel I was ordered to stop at the nearby gas station so that sir could buy milk. I’m still not entirely sure why he couldn’t get milk when he had his breakfast but life is full of mysteries. Another mystery is why I agreed – but then you’d not expect it to take a full twenty minutes to navigate your way to the opposite side of the road and back again. To say I was un-amused was possibly an understatement but hell; at least he got his milk! The drive south was, thankfully, rather less eventful and we soon found ourselves turning into the parking lot and making our way to the gift shop where the tours run from.

We were greeted by a friendly guy who invited us to have a look around his store and explained, when we asked about the tours, that we’d just missed the last one. I looked at Andy and gave him a one of those stares of which any woman would have been proud then looked back to the bemused shop assistant and said, “well, at least he got his bloody milk.” The poor guy didn’t have any idea what my problem was but he sure knew there was a problem and offered to take us round himself if we were able to return after dinner. I could have kissed him but resisted the temptation and limited my gratitude to a big smile and a sincere thank-you.

As they had sold out of the precious Nascar DVD we decided that perhaps we should head back along the road to the Walmart that we had seen on our way in and have a look there. By this stage Andy was getting brave – or scared, I’m not sure which – and was able to stray more than a yard from me without hyperventilating. We agreed to meet back at the car in an hour which would have left us 20 minutes to drive back to the speedway in time to meet the guy who was going to take us for our tour.

Almost two hours later, me sat in the car banging my head on the steering wheel, Andy returns. He doesn’t even have time to close his door before we are off in the direction of the exit. We made very good time back to the speedway and arrive around half an hour late. Thankfully the guy was still happy to take us out on our tour and he even managed to collar another three passengers who happened to be visiting the gift shop at the time. We all climbed onboard the van and sped off for our tour around the speedway property.

After showing us a number of interesting features around the outside perimeter of the track – how many people realise that the property features a small family cemetery, for example – we headed through the infield tunnel into the paddock and into pitlane. Our driver stopped the van, invited us to buckle up, then span the wheels and roared down pitlane doing a fine impression of Juan Pablo Montoya as we raced onto the track. We did three or four hot laps, running right up on the high line as our speed picked up, before returning to pitlane. He locked up the brakes as we stormed into a pitbox leaving us passengers looking for our pitcrew to leap over the wall to change our wheels and top up the gas. Sadly that was the end of the fun and we were driven slowly back to the gift shop before being turfed out and sent on our way. I hadn’t realised it at the time but Andy assures me that the speedo in the van was reading over 100mph for most of that time. Money well spent and I’d recommend it to anyone – even if you’re not a petrol head.

Finally, last stop before the airport: Martin Luther King Jr National Historic Site. Last time I had visited we had got terribly lost and ended up in a pretty scary area. This time, thanks to the satnav, we found our way straight to the door. In the end it was a bit of a disappointment; not a patch on the museum at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. But it was interesting to see Andy’s attitude change from one of disinterest to one of disbelief as we made our way around the museum. I suspect that I was being similarly observed last time around.

A quick drive through downtown Atlanta – again interesting to watch Andy’s reaction! – and back to the airport. It was a sad moment to have to hand back the keys to the car and get onto the bus back to the terminal. I had enjoyed the trip enormously but was looking forward to getting home and having my own space again. To celebrate I joined Andy in a massive feast as we waited for our delayed flight. This time it was him observing me; after ten days of me bugging him for constantly eating he was confused!

Sunday 2nd September

Usually I have terrible trouble sleeping on planes but I was surprised to have to be woken as we started our descent into Manchester. I had slept – on and off – for most of the night. For me this was a major achievement and I felt wide awake as I stepped off the plane. I’ve never felt that good before and I hurried Andy along, one final time, as we headed through the terminal building towards the delights of the English summer and the worst that the M6 could throw at us.

Our plans for a speedy getaway were well and truly thwarted as we approached a huge queue at passport control. Now, I’ve seen some queues in my time, mostly on arrival in the US, but this was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. It was long enough to suck the life right out of you. Thankfully the process of waving your passport at a thoroughly disinterested agent of the British government is infinitely quicker than the grilling you receive from their counterparts in the US who positively revel in watching you squirm and, after a 45 minute delay we were finally free to make our way through the airport to the bus stands where we would catch a ride to where I had parked my car.

After almost stepping onto the wrong bus, and a further wait for ours to arrive, we were returned to the parking lot near the airport. It’s bad enough to get back to the UK after a holiday, worse still to find the weather was still cold and wet but the worst thing was surely to find they’d parked my car under a tree and let the birds do their – not inconsiderable – worst all over it! Still there was nothing that could be achieved by whinging about it so we hit the road one final time. Next stop: Andy’s apartment in Silverstone.

Thanks everyone for the tips and input.

We didn't make it all the planned destinations in the end but we did see most! I have now finished posting updates from this trip. The following links take you to the individual days:

Day 1 - Preparations
Day 2 - Manchester - Atlanta - Dawsonville
Day 3 - Dawsonville - Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Day 4 - Great Smoky Mountains National Park - Baileyton
Day 5 - Baileyton - Bristol Motor Speedway - Baileyton
Day 6 - Baileyton - Corbin - Mammoth Cave National Park
Day 7 - Mammoth Cave - Bowling Green
Day 8 - Bowling Green - Nashville
Day 9 - Nashville - Lynchburg - Chattanooga
Day 10 - Chattanooga - Stockbridge
Day 11 - Stockbridge - Warner Robins - Atlanta
Day 12 - Atlanta - Manchester
Day 13 - Back home

Apologies for the length of the report but I have broken it up and individually linked each day in the hope that it makes it useful to others looking to visit the same areas.

Craig,

I have placed the index references further back in the trip reports to aid other travelers seeking information herein.

Nice job on the reports --