During this whole lockdown thing - while we’ve been getting on with the business of working on the house and in the garden, amongst other things, I have been streaming a whole lot of Modern Country Music ……….. which got me to thinking: Somewhere back in the old bloodstream there must be a little bit of ‘Redneck’. Its all about boots an’ hats an’ pretty girls in short skirts an’ drinking beer an’ pick-up trucks an’ Honky Tonk Joints…………an’ I love it.
As a kid I had read just about every western ever written I think by the time I was twelve. Roy Rogers, Gene Autrey and Davy Crockett were my heroes. Nothing did my soul more good than herding cattle on horseback with my uncle Etienne (Cowboy Botha), in the Namibian bush ………. then South West Africa………and a dream I carried with me most of my life (but never did), was to ride alone cross-country from Port Elizabeth to ‘Tokai’ (my uncle’s ranch near Otjiwarongo in SWA. One of the few regrets that I have.
Eight years ago right about now (May), Pat and I spent two incredible and never to be forgotten weeks in New York with my cousin Lynda and her husband Rob as part of her birthday celebration (never tell a lady’s age). On our final evening together there we went out for oysters at a little restaurant on 116th Street up in Spanish Harlem and Pat and I left first thing the next morning on a road trip we had planned down to Memphis (via one night in Washington), to visit dear friends we had made in London in the early 70’s, and who (apart from a 3 day stopover that Pan had made with us in Cape Town in 2009), we had not seen for nigh on 45 years or so.
Pat, myself, Rob and Lynda at Ground Zero - NYC
As we approached Washington Pat began feeling ill - very ill - with all the pre-experienced signs of oyster poisoning. By the time we found a hotel and just made it up to the room it hit her - as only oyster poisoning can do - so needless to say the evening was wrecked. But trooper that she is, next morning (a Sunday), she was up and about and after a really horrible breakfast of hard, powdery fried eggs, crappy bacon and no toast (couldn’t find toast anywhere over there), we drove down to the White House - walked across to the Obelisk and war memorial, down along the reflection pool (which was empty due to repairs), and the amazing Lincoln Memorial, before strolling through the incredible and very moving Vietnam War Memorial before heading back to the car. We drove through to Georgetown and walked around amongst the old houses and treed streets and avenues for a little while (I think I could happily live there), before hitting the road for Memphis…………..and getting stuck for nearly two hours in a Sunday afternoon traffic jam on the way out of town.
Pat at the Obelisk
Yours truly with Abe Lincoln
Pat at the Lincoln Memorial (Reflecting pool and Obelisk behind her)
A typical Georgetown house (Mansion?)
Now Memphis is 873 Miles (1400 odd kms) - which is like driving from Cape Town to Johannesburg. Its a fairly long way, and we decided to do it with two stopovers as we did not have much time left of the Sunday.
Finding a place to stay is a piece of cake - every 50 miles or so there are off-ramps to little stopover “cities”, with Service Stations, Hotels, Restaurants and shops with just about anything a traveller might need. The road was right out of my childhood, with signs to the Davy Crockett Memorial ………. we crossed over the Shenandoah River - saw signs to names like Charlottesville, Lynchburg, Roanoke, Chattanooga and Knoxville - and got to overnight just outside Nashville on the second night………….and as you drive from town to town and county to county another Country Music radio station comes on line. I think a guy by the name of Dierks Bentley was number one at the time - can’t be sure - but it was such cool music. Dierks????? Now where do you get a name like that - but I remember it was about driving down to the river - drinking beer and making love to his girl in the back of the pick-up truck. The perfect red-neck dream.
And the trucks - everywhere you looked were these HUGE pantechnicons ………. every now and then passing you on either side at the same time. Scary shit! And then of course the Redneck pick-up trucks ………. all twice the size of what we have here in South Africa, and it being a weekend all the hot-shots seemed to be showing off their rides on the Freeway ………… some even had rifles inside the back window …….. can you imagine??? And all 4x4's ..... what were they doing on the Freeway?
Seriously BIG Trucks
Everyday pick-up truck (Bakkie)
We were really knackered …… and hungry …… and thirsty. We checked in at a small, clean and pretty affordable little hotel/boarding house and asked where we might find a good steak. The proprietor told us that the best good steakhouse was another fifteen miles down the road, but that the place just over the highway didn’t serve a bad meal - so that is where we went. I was literally dying for a glass of wine or a beer, so as we sat down amidst the guns, powder-horns and coon-caps in a really cool Western Theme atmosphere I told the young waiter that before we even looked at the menu could he please bring us a bottle of ice-cold dry white wine. Sorry - no wine. OK, so how about a beer? Sorry - we don’t sell any liquor here ……… but that I could get some at the store across the road. So I said OK - I’ll be right back and then I’ll place the order. “Oh no Sir”, ……….. in a real southern drawl ……….. “You cain’t drink no liquor in heeeer - you can drink it in your car - but not in heeeer”.
So Coke it was ………… but, jeeeez - a glass of wine would have gone down so well.
The next day we arrived in Memphis. MEMPHIS!!! Home of our friends Carl and Pan ………. Home of Elvis, Graceland, Beale Street, BB King’s Blues Club, the Peabody Hotel, the Memphis Bridge, the Mississippi, Sun Studios, STAX and the Lorraine Motel where Martin Luther King was assassinated - now the National Civil Rights Museum and a myriad of other interesting places. You drive in down the Isaac Hayes Memorial Highway - find your way to their house in Vinton Avenue - and 40 years just disappear in a welter of hello’s and hugs and kisses.
What a blast!
Carl and Pan's house in Vinton Ave.
I think I’ll save the memories of our time there for the next blog entry ………….. its all a little too much to process right now……………so see you then.
