FRIENDS 2011
  
 

Day 01

April 7

 
     
  We got in a little late from the airport last night so I let Les sleep in just a bit. My plans are to take him on some roads where I grew up which are usually pretty much traffic free. That will give him a chance to get acclimated to riding on the 'right' side of the road as compared to the 'proper' side of the road like he does back in Scotland. I let our 'boys' - Pistol and Teddy - out before we leave so they can terrorize the local wildlife population.  
   
  Soon Les is up and stirring and we get things sorted out for the ride today. He will be taking RedBird, my first ST1100 with almost 130,000 miles on it. I've put my extra Russell seat and the adjustable windshield from MadStad Engineering on it for him. We've also hooked up an extra headset that I have in his helmet so we can try to chat on the CBs, since all of my bikes are equipped that way.  
   
  But first I need to provide him with some true Southern 'culture'. Unfortunately we encountered the morning traffic on our way to one of my favorite cultural emporiums.  
   
  But we are not to be denied, and finally pull into the local Cracker Barrel parking lot where the smell of breakfast wafts through the air in an inviting manner.  
   
 

I tell Les -

"Don't worry my friend, I already know what you want!"

And ever the trusting soul, he agrees. With the ordering business tended to, we talk about what our day will be like. Soon enough food to kill a good man, much less old wrecks like us, shows up. I introduce Les to country ham and grits, two Southern delicacies. I feel compelled to give him proper instructions on the preparation and consumption of grits -

"Well, some folks put butter and salt on their grits. Me, I prefer butter and sweetening, so you might try a little dab both ways."

So he does try them but I believe the jury is still out on that one!

  
   
  With a good dose of hen fruit, pig meat, biscuits (scones as they would call them where he's from) and jelly under our belts, we finish up and get on the road. To get him warmed up, I head for a road up behind my house that is a well kept secret. It has excellent pavement and a curve or two.  
   
  It drops us to a connector that will take us to the Natchez Trace, my favorite southern escape route around Nashville. The lilacs are just starting to blossom out and we have the Trace all to ourselves.  
   
  One of the interesting sites on the Trace is the high bridge across highway 96. It is so tall that you can see from an airplane approaching Nashville if you know where to look.  
   
 

As we head south, Les radios me -

"The batteries are no good in my camera."

"Don't worry, I know just the place" I tell him, which is a little country store in Leipers Fork right on my route. Sure enough they have just what he needs so he's back in the picture taking business quick enough.

  
   
  We wind out way out along the backroads to one of my favorite runs that will drop us right to the back door of Spring Hill.  
   
 

Spring Hill was just a couple of grocery stores and a few churches before GM built the Saturn Plant there. Now its fortunes have risen and fallen in step with GM. As we make our way through the outskirts, I radio Les -

"This all used to be farmland years ago. Now it's all subdivisions" which somehow seems a bit tragic to me. I guess that's just progress but of what sort I just don't know.

  
   
 

Soon we leave the cookie cutter houses for a countryside more to my liking. Les gets a firsthand introduction to a place call 'Pull Tight Hill'. Local lore says -

'Pull-Tight Hill Road is called “Pulltight” because farmers headed to College Grove in the old days had to stop at the bottom and pull their mules tight in their traces before the upward haul. They might have been carrying tobacco or soy beans to Gosey Hill Overlook Market, or they might have been headed to the hardware store for supplies. They might have been loaded down with seven or eight children, headed to church. Anyway those traces had to be tight, to make the long pull up the hill.'

And it's a mighty fine piece of real estate to traverse on a motorcycle both up one side ...

  
   
  ... and down the other!  
   
  We make our way east to head south, bypassing the little town of Eagleville, then through Chapel Hill, which is in my home county. With a little run down past Caney Springs we pop out in Lewisburg, my home town. Soon we are out of town and headed to where the first house I lived in was located. It was four rooms and path - the only time we had running water in the house was if it rained and the tin roof leaked. But sadly, it has been torn down along with the old well house. We stop briefly and I show Les where the 'house out back' used to sit. But we've got other places to see, so we make a dash up Spring Place hill. I used pedal up this hill with my bicycle and then come roaring down it - carefully at the bottom since it's a tight curve.  
   
  And trip to this area would not be complete with a stop by the Possum Trot Grocery. When I was a little boy, my daddy used to take me up that gravel road to get my haircut at "BobCutters". He cut hair at his house out in the yard as weather permitted.  
   
 

There's some great riding as we have the roads to ourselves and there are plenty of twists and turns. When we get to New Hope Cemetery, I stop for a moment. This is sacred ground for me as I tell Les -

"My great, great grandfather is buried over there by that big tree. He fought in the Civil War and was captured at the Battle of Petersburg."

  
   
  Just around the corner is a road that I haven't been on in years, so I figure I'll give it shot. It should put us right into the middle of Cornersville, where my momma went to high school. My memory serves me well, and we soon pop out at the little town that was once the corner of four counties.  
   
  Since gas can sometimes be a bit scarce out here, we stop just up the road for fuel. With my left knee really bothering me, I have learned to fill-up without getting off the bike since I can use a credit card. But Les has to go in to tend to his business since he 'ain't from around here'.  
   
  Next comes a fun run down Lynnville Hill. When I was younger, the challenge was how fast you could go down this hill and still make the hard left hander at the end - car or motorcycle.  
   
  At last we arrive in Lynnville proper at the Soda Pop Junction - the best place for hamburgers in the State of Tennessee. I maintain that this where all the hamburger places come to take their pictures for their ads.  
   
  It's a neat place and just like the old soda shops that use be in most southern towns but have long ago been replaced with McMush places of business.  
   
  Feeling a need for restraint, I only order the double half pound bacon cheese burger and onion rings. It is two half pound hand pressed patties with real bacon slices and requires a large mouth or a lot of squeezing to eat. I qualify for the former so I wade in. Les, being the reserved person that he is, only gets a half pound bacon cheese burger -but still enough to instantaneously clog all arteries that are still open.  
   
 

When we finished up and while we can still waddle around, we visit Colonel Littleton's shop next door. He makes outstanding products of the highest quality and describes his business philosophy pretty well on his website -

'I guess I've always been partial to things with staying power. A good hat, for instance, seems to hold its own. A well-made leather saddle will outlast both your horse and your ability to get on it. Good upbringing seems to stick with you, and true friendships last a lifetime. When I went into business, I wanted to make things that would last and become more meaningful as time goes by... things that would be around long enough to be handed down to your children and grandchildren and be cherished as family heirlooms. That's important to me. So, how long will something last? If we're talking about a streak of good luck, sunny weather or a bull market on Wall Street... don't bet the family farm on what the experts say. But, I reckon if we're talking about a good friendship or a Colonel Littleton product, you can pretty well expect them to last for a long, long time. And, if for some reason it doesn't, we'll make it right.'

That pretty well sums it up and it is a real pleasure to visit a store where you know the products are top notch. We take a good look around, wishing we had a less limited budget to make some purchases. We strike up a conversation with the lovely lady that runs the store, and Les talks a bit about Scotland. Before we leave, she presents us both a little souvenir of our visit - a genuine Moon Pie , another southern delicacy. I do wonder just how much culture Les is going to able to assimilate before he has to go up a trouser size ...

  
   
  But we've got to get back, so we bid her a fond adieu and head out. As we approach Mount Pleasant, we pass this lovely lake that also serves as the water source for the city.  
   
  Soon we are out of town and back up in the hills. When we pass this bridge as I have done many times, I still find it amazing. Usually they tear the old bridge down when the finished the new one, but I guess they must have forgot this one.  
   
  We make our way through places like Little Lot where there's nobody out but us and an occasional porch sitter.  
   
  And sometimes we get to do the roller coaster ride like this one. I've been told if you hit the humps fast enough you can actually get air borne, but then I wouldn't really know about all of that ....  
   
  And every now and then we come to real serious twists and turns that require you pay good attention ...  
   
  because just around the bend is another one just like it that goes the other way.  
   
  We manage to get back to the Holler all in one piece and with a good day of food and miles under our belts. And Les did manage to stay on the 'right' side of the road for most of the day.  
   
  Tomorrow we head out for the Moonshine Gathering, but with a few interesting stops in between. Since we have to be up early, I figure we'd best retire soon and not sit up and shoot the breeze as some folks are known to do. After all the grub I have partaken of for the day settles in, the skin over my stomach tightens and pulls the skin down over my eyes and I am down for the count.