Since it ended over two weeks ago, I guess it is time to tell about the last 3 days of this year's early Jeep trip. Thursday morning, March 1, I had breakfast at the motel's restaurant in Palestine, TX., about 180 miles northeast of Austin on US 79. The egg, bacon, toast, grits and coffee were included in the room bill. Five or six locals, including a fireman, were sitting at nearby tables, and one thing they talked about was a recent event involving a 12 year old runaway. He had gone missing before noon, but by dusk fire, police and volunteers were searching nearby wooded areas and finally a helicopter had been called in. The boy then, apparently realizing he was the object of all the activity, turned him self in at his home. He had been hiding behind a nearby wood pile, apparently because he didn't want to see his mother whom he had been told would be coming to see him the next day. All of the guys were wondering why the young man so disliked seeing his mother.
Continuing northeast on US 79 to Henderson and then skirting Shreveport Louisiana via TX 43 and 49, I wound up in Plain Dealing, LA about lunch time. As I turned north on LA 3 toward Hope, Arkansas, I saw The Burger Box on my right. It was a very small place but had several pickup trucks and a police car parked outside and some cars lined up at a drive-through window, so I turned around and stopped. Inside were a half dozen tables, mostly full of people and a counter with no seats where you placed your order and then waited for your name to be called. I ordered a shrimp Po-boy and sat down at the only empty table, which had 5 or 6 chairs. Guys are looking at me, knowing I'm a stranger, and I'm looking out the window as another big Dodge Ram pickup drives up. A middle aged guy and a younger twenty-something get out and give Sacajawea serious looks as they walk by, particularly noting my old golf bag hanging on the front bumper in which I carry two canvas folding chairs.
These guys come in and order and then sit down at my table and we immediately start a conversation. I said I saw them looking at my jeep and explained the purpose of the golf bag. The older guy tried but failed to pronounce Sacajawea, but when I told him who she was and why I named my jeep after her he said that someone in his family had told him they were related to Clark. Turns out they worked for a logging company owned by the younger guys dad. They had noticed the Indiana license plate and wondered what I was doing there, so I told them about our Jeep trip and that I was headed back to Indianapolis. They had ideas about the route I should take but I told them I was a Clinton junkie and had to go through Hope. They cautioned me about all of the log hauling trucks that would be on my road. Our sandwiches came and we finished and left at the same time. Outside they wanted to look at my map to see the route I planned, and then decided that if I was going east out of Hope on US 278 and not up US 67 towards Little Rock that I would be all right. They patted me on the back and told me to be careful; I was kind of touched by their apparent concern for my safety.
I spent maybe an hour and a half in Hope, first stopping at the visitors center in the restored depot, then driving by the cemetery where Clinton's mom and dad and his grandparents are buried, his boyhood home where they lived when he started to school, and his grandparents home where he first lived and was raised by them while his mother went to nursing school in New Orleans. Leaving Hope about 3 in the afternoon, I drove east to Camden and then got back on US 79 and headed northeast to Pine Bluff. I found a cluster of motels and fast food restaurants on the west side of town, but drove on looking for a downtown business district. I never found one. I followed business US 79 and passed the Univ. of Arkansas, Pine Bluff campus, but never found downtown. I guess they have a big convention center there and a restored historical district, but I just decided to go back to one of the chain motels and get KFC to take back to my room.
Friday morning, March 2nd, I had the lousy but quick continental breakfast at the motel then went back along US 79 through Pine Bluff and northeast to AR 152, then southeast and east on AR 165 to De Witt. This is flat, delta farm land. I finally spotted a farmer with his dog out in one of his barns and stopped. I told him I was just a farm boy from Indiana and curious about what they grew in the area. Some of the fields were bright green, which he confirmed was winter wheat, and he said they also grow rice which they plant in April, soybeans, and even some popcorn.
Just before I crossed over the Mississippi at Helena, I was listening to NPR on satelite radio and heard Jane Smiley, author of Ten Days in the Hills being interviewed. Hearing her read some passages from the book, which is set in 2003 during our invasion of Iraq, peaked my interest so I had to buy it when I got back and am reading it now (See my book list at left).
Entering the Mississippi Delta, I took US 61 into Memphis. I got there about noon and cut over to Elvis Presley Blvd. The Sunday before I left home, Marcia and I were having breakfast at IHOP and talking about the Jeep trip route. I told her I was coming back through Memphis and she said I should see Graceland. I said I wasn't that interested, but then we realized that at that very moment the music in the restaurant was Elvis singing, "It's Now or Never", so we took that as an omen and I would stop at Graceland.
Graceland sits back from the street on a hill, the grounds surrounded by a brick fence. The boulevard is lined with commercial business properties of all descriptions, most of which perhaps have been developed since Elvis died. I pulled into the designated parking area to learn that it was $6 to park, another $25 to tour the house, and a couple of museum buildings had a separate entry fee. I told the attendant I would just turn around and drive back out. After looking and finding no parking space on any nearby side streets, I spotted the BJ's Wings and Things drive through. It had no indoor seating, but it had several parking spaces and a walk-up window. I told the owner I did want to order lunch and he agreed that I could park the jeep there while I walked about a half block up the street to take a few pictures of Graceland. I ate a basket lunch of fries, Cole slaw and a generous sized sandwich for less than I would have paid for parking, then walked up the street and took my pictures.
Having seen what I wanted of Graceland, I drove downtown to Beale St. and parked by Elvis Presley Plaza. Strolling down Beale street, taking in the sights on a sunny but cool afternoon, I happened upon W.C. Handy Park where a band was playing live Blues. A few people were sitting around on benches and I joined them. A guy was selling CD's and he sat down beside me and began talking about the band being some of the best local musicians and that they were getting ready to play a benefit for the widow of another local musician who had recently died. Fred Sanders was the lead guitar player and singer, (it was his CD the guy was selling), and other various players were joining in from time to time. I sat and enjoyed the music for some time, then walked back up Beale St. past B.B. King's place to my jeep.
Near Sacajawea, a man was standing on the sidewalk with some papers in one hand. He had a broad smile and seemed very likable. He smoothly got me into a conversation and seemed genuinely interested in why I was visiting Memphis. He went on to talk about civil rights, even recited in a rather formal voice some excerpts from Martin Luther King speeches and reminded me that Robert Kennedy had given a speech in Indianapolis the night that King was assassinated, which I already knew. I was taken by him even before he gave me his pamphlets and I learned he was a homeless man, so when he gave me directions to the motel where King was shot I gave him $10. You would not suspect from his appearance that Marvin Louis Booker was homeless (see his photo in the Jeep 2007 album at right).
I drove the few blocks to the National Civil Rights Museum and was impressed that the motel where King was shot is preserved as it appeared in April, 1968, at least on the outside. I took some photos but didn't go in because I wanted to get closer to home before dark, knowing I had over 400 miles to drive the next day, and it was already 4 in the afternoon. I drove north out of Memphis on Danny Thomas St., which is US 51 and got to Dyersburg by nightfall. I stayed in the Executive Inn and had a good steak dinner at Abe's Ribeye Barn, a local restaurant.
Saturday's drive, March 3rd, from Dyersburg up into Kentucky, across the land between the lakes, then up to Evansville and northeast on IN 57 to IN 67 and into Indianapolis was cold and very windy. The heater in the Jeep seemed not to be putting out much heat, I think something went wrong when the water pump had to be replaced in New Orleans. I got pretty cold by mid afternoon and it began to snow in earnest when I got into Indianapolis. I was chilled through when I got home at 6:30, and I have had a cold ever since although I hope I'm just about over it. The total trip mileage was 3,220 miles, the first 850 of that were getting from Indianapolis to New Orleans. It was different from our usual Jeep trip because there was only one day in Louisiana when we could remove either of the side windows. It's more fun to travel in Sacajawea when it is hot.
