Boogity, boogity, boogity...

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!

Before I left home I took the advice and suggestions of the users of the RTA forum, read books and spent hours online putting together an itinerary for this trip. It’s not something that I ever wanted to - I really liked the idea of ’making it up on the ground’ - but there were just so many ideas that I really had to put them down in some sort of order. Long after coming up with a definitive itinerary I kept adding more ideas and soon it was looking like I needed to tag an extra five or six days to the end of the trip.

Amazingly though I seem to have arrived at day number eight a whole day ahead of schedule - I never would have believed it possible - but looking at my map and guide book didn’t really present any obvious destinations to fill the spare day, so I decided to cool the pace and chill out for the day.

The perfect way to start a chilled day would be wake from a solid eight hours sleep, then unzip the door of your tent and realise the only thing you can see is the sun glinting off a pretty lake. And that is exactly how I started the day - so much better than the view yesterday morning. Leaving the door open, I lay there and admired the view for a bit, played some of the past week back in my mind, admired the view, fell asleep again and then finally got up. After a hectic week it really was fantastic to just slow right down like that.

I didn’t leave the campground until dinner time and, when I did, I turned out of the entrance and straight onto a five mile long gravel track. Back home in Europe, where I drive a small front wheel drive car, we don’t have gravel roads. Fullstop. Or period as you say. So, being in a Mustang, you can probably imagine my smile… Dukes Of Hazzard? The only difference was they weren’t in a Mustang!

First stop of the day was nearby Tupelo to visit the house where Elvis was born and brought up as a kid. Not much to say really apart from it being a whole lot smaller and less impressive than the other house which I visited yesterday. The gift shop was pretty impressive though, at least as big as the one at Graceland but, hey, it’s all about giving the fans what they want, right? I’ll do what Tony Stewart should have done last Saturday night and respond with a ‘no comment’ answer!

I still had several hours to fill and kept a keen eye out for interesting looking destinations along the highway. After passing into Alabama I found that destination in a sign reading ‘Natural Bridge Park’ which intrigued me enough to make a 30-mile detour. It cost $2.50 and, although it was a long way (I’m not talking miles) from Arches NP, it was real nice to get out of the car and stretch the old legs. Talking of old legs, the old girl manning the gift shop (no Elvis goodies, surprisingly) was totally mad and was rambling incoherently about Oxford when I left. I presume she was talking about Oxford in England, which is just south of Birmingham, kinda spooky as Birmingham (in Alabama) was my next stop.

Not really sure where to head I did a couple of laps of the city trying to find an open wi-fi connection but, alas, they must have been preaching to the locals about the importance of securing their networks and no access was to be found. What I did find though was Kelly Ingram Park, which was another key location in the Civil Rights movement, and now home to a number of thought provoking sculptures. Normally I run a mile when I’m approached by those guys who come up to you, give you a bit of information, then hold out their hand for ‘payment’ but I happily handed over a couple of spare bucks to some guy who came up and gave me a really fascinating tour of the park and pointed out several other landmarks that I should see including the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church.

And that brings me to here, the Holiday Inn on the outskirts of Birmingham, for that is the first hotel I spotted when I left town. Before leaving home I found that every hotel in a fifty mile radius of Talladega was fully booked, so I thought it wise to stop in Birmingham before heading onwards to Talladega tomorrow morning. The price came as something of a shock, after the Super 8, but it’s a real pleasure to be treated well and to have a clean and pleasant room. So far I’ve not managed to spot any of those strange stains, there don’t appear to be any bugs living in the bed and no one has stolen the TV remote control. I guess there’s truth in the saying ‘you get what you pay for’ and, after years of being a tight arse when it comes to hotels, I am starting to realise why people spend fortunes on them!

My cold is finally starting to wear off, but that didn’t mean that I managed a good nights sleep, the noise from that truck stop was incredible. How do the truckers themselves sleep?! Oh, and I’m sure there were nasties living in the bed itself… eww! I woke up itching this morning so had a very good scrub in the shower before getting the hell out of there. I think I’ll be laying off the budget motels for a bit…

Having listened to everyone’s advice to head to Graceland as early as possible in the morning, so as to avoid the crowds, I chose to totally disregard it! I don’t like to appear rude (something anyone who has met me may find hard to believe) but the weather most definitely was appearing rude. Very rude in fact. Despite the announcers on Elvis FM boasting that the sun was out in Memphis, the truth of the matter was quite the opposite, huge black storm clouds hung menacingly overhead.

Deciding to play safe I thought it best to leave Graceland til later and do the outdoor thing whilst it was still dry. So I drove straight to Sun Studio. Closed. After a couple of photos of the exterior I hopped back in the car and headed to the top end of Beale Street and started walking back the way that I had come. Despite it all being very colourful, everywhere was closed. Doing great here. I then spotted the stadiums of the FedEx Forum and Autozone Park and went to investigate - both closed. I found myself outside the famous Peabody Hotel (home to the ducks) but couldn’t really be bothered to visit them as a) I don’t really ‘get’ it and b) they were probably asleep like the rest of this town.

Back on Beale Street I was soon at the end of the ‘tourist’ area and in the middle of some sort of inner city wasteland which, although I’m sure was a thriving area once upon a time, was now entirely closed down. It figures.

Having come this far I decided to ’get a feel for the real Memphis’ and continue walking in the direction of Sun Studio where, I thought, I would treat myself to that nice cooked breakfast that I had missed out on in Dallas earlier in the week, Well, having never been in Belfast in the 1970s, I now have a fair idea what it was like, and now realise why they run free shuttle buses between the various tourist sites, tourists getting caught up in a war zone is obviously going to be bad for trade. But I am sat here this evening, rambling, so they obviously felt bad for the lost looking tourist and left him be whilst they went on with the important business of shooting each other.

Back in Europe, the Germans are infamous for staking their claim to the best sun loungers around the hotel pool by getting up whilst it’s still dark and putting their towels on them and then going back to bed. Personally I never understand why the other guests don’t simply throw their towels in the pool and sit themselves down, but I’m getting away from the point here somewhat, that point being that the Germans can be quite rude and overbearing.

The promise of the breakfast had kept me going as I walked across town but, as I rounded the corner and the building came into view, I was greeted by a bus load of German tourists streaming into the building. Oh hell, I thought to myself, purposely putting the stereotypes to the back of my mind. As I entered the front door I was barged out the way by one of the group who reminded me of a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, she was that desperate to get inside! Having stepped inside it didn’t get any better. With that many people crammed into the tiny building there was no chance of getting a table so the idea of breakfast was out the window. Awesome.

Having walked the streets of death once more and arrived safely back at my car I headed off to the National Civil Rights Museum. I visited the MLK birthplace in Atlanta last year and was really impressed with it, so had really been looking forward to visiting this place. A friend who had visited previously had told me that it was on the ‘dodgy side of town’ and, having now experienced the ‘good side of town’ I decided to lock the laptop securely in the trunk, out of sight, and follow the directional signs. Which was a great idea except someone had apparently stolen the signs! I went round in circles before accidently heading back into Arkansas. Twice.

Once I finally arrived I soon realised that the supposed terror of the area around the Lorraine Motel had been vastly overstated! I could have been there an hour earlier but, never mind, at least I got to cross the Mississippi several more times. And discover that there is a museum devoted to metal. Fascinating, I’m sure, but I didn’t stop!

Just like the Book Depository, back in Dallas, I had seen a thousand photos of the Lorraine Motel and it was a strange feeling when I finally laid my own eyes on it. I made my way straight into the museum itself and, once again, was accosted by a local who wanted to know all about England. ‘Aargh, leave me alone, I don’t work for the tourist board’, I thought to myself, as I patiently explained about the entry requirements and work prospects in the UK. I’m just too kind!

The museum was, as expected, very powerful. It was far far too long though and it was a good two hours before I finally saw the light of day again. And that was merely to cross the street and enter the second building. If anyone has actually read every word in these daily rambles, they’d appreciate my frustration as I dragged my aching feet and empty stomach around the exhibits. Don’t get me wrong, I really did enjoy my visit and learned a whole lot, but they really need to find a way to split it down into more ’bite-sized’ parts in my opinion. I don’t actually have any specific suggestions on that front though.

I won’t bore you too much with my trip to Graceland, as it has to be the most over-hyped and over-reported tourist trap in the world, needless to say I was surprised by it. Elvis has never factored much in my life, apart from that time I met him working in my local Burger King and sold my story to the newspaper, of course, but you gotta admire the guys style, so Graceland was one of the first places on my ‘to-do’ list for this trip. My thoughts after the tour? It’s just like the life of the guy himself - over the top and in your face - but I did actually enjoy the experience, even if my wallet did not.

I had no idea where I would be sleeping but, with the weather having turned a corner and looking like it would be dry overnight, I decided that getting the tent out again was the way to go. But where? Thankfully, as with everywhere else I had been on this trip, I had no problem logging on to the internet via an unsecured wi-fi connection and quickly found the Trace State Park, just outside Belden in Mississippi, and sped down there, stopping only at a very scary gas station full of rednecks, hunters and (I am sure) murderers. The gangster rap blaring out as the guys inside played pool and drank bottles of Bud was kinda worrying but I made it to the campground in one piece and settled in for a nice quiet evening.

Leaving the motel in Hope, Arkansas I decided to stay off the I-30 and use the local roads to reach my frst stop of the day, Crater Of Diamonds State Park. I had seen this park on the TV and had pondered over visiting, unsure of whether I loved it or hated it, deciding the only safe way to know was to just go for it and visit it. Good old Microsoft was steering me in the right direction until it took me off the main road and along a narrower road. After four or five miles it insisted I should be taking a right turn but there was no turn to take… was there? Turning around I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realised it was trying to send me down a forestry road, thick with mud. I am not exaggerating when I say I would struggle to get a Land Rover down there, I had absolutely no chance with a Mustang, so I turned back the way I had come.

After stopping at a real old fashioned gas station to fill my gas tank, and manging to deposit five bucks of gas on the floor due to the thing not cutting out automatically, I finally turned into the state park. As I’d half expected… it was a big fuss about nothing! Just a whole load of mud and a few nutters trying to make their fortunes. One of the staff proudly told the story of a ‘regular’ who’d made 25k from his finds. I was impressed. Until they pointed out that they have visited every day for 15 years. I’m not sure what the pay is like in that area but, let’s be honest, they really should find a proper job!

After milling around for half an hour, hoping someone would strike it rich in front of me, I headed off to the Hot Springs National Park. As well as baseballs, I have taken to collecting the NPS Brochures and, if I’m honest, this stop was pretty much just an opportunity to stop off and tick another park off this list. However, surprisingly, I was quite taken with this place, it was really quite different to what I’d expected, though I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting! The bath houses were really quite pretty, the hot water coming off of the mountains was, erm, very hot and, rather fantastically, the roads up to the mountain tower were, erm, fantastic - like a mini Nurburgring! I couldn’t help but switch off the traction control and powerslide the back of the car through the banked corners as I sped up (and then down) the steep hills. Cool!

Next it was off to Garvan Woodland Gardens which I had read about on another RTA users blog. I was amazed at how cool the Anthony Chapel looked and, when I saw it in person, I was blown away by it. What an awesome place, just a shame that the doors were locked, but I would highly recommend it to anyone visiting the area. I was actually really impressed with the whole place and it was only my desire to press on and get to Little Rock that dragged me away.

One thing that I hadn’t necessarily thought about, with this being a high school and all, is that it is a high school. So, arriving at 4pm was interesting. But at least it gave me chance to see the make up of the students… thankfully segregation is well in the past. The visitor center next to the school was very well put together and told a fascinating story. I was greeted by a very enthusiastic guy who I chatted to for a bit before he inisted on signing their visitor book. (Why is everyone so turned-on by the fact I’m from the UK?!) My visit was pretty thought provoking and memorable and, for me, ranks up there with my visit to the MLK birthplace.

One thing that stood out for me was the difference between the two NPS sites I visited today - Hot Springs was all about the wrinklies (sorry, can’t think of a better description!) and Little Rock was all about youth. Fascinating how the same organisation (NPS) should do such a good job of preserving and documenting such different things.

Leaving town I decided to stop and take a quick peek at the imposing Arkansas Capitol State Building. As I drove around the building I spotted the fantastic Little Rock Nine monument. My photos really don’t do it justice - it was very powerful. Unfortunately, as I now realise from Googling this evening, I missed the nearby Vietnam Memorial.

My mind wandering to the subject of where I would be sleeping, I rummaged through the trunk of the car for the ‘Arkansas State Parks’ guide book that I picked up yesterday. Spotting a nice looking park about 30 miles west of Memphis I sped down the I-40 only to be confronted by a wall of water (and a much wetter one than the one I’d found in Houston!) so decided to press on to the outskirts of Memphis and find a motel instead. Pulling into a Super 8 I was surprised to find that the manager was British and was born and raised just a few miles from where I live. Being bought up to date on the football results and hearing that two British clubs had won through to the final of the Champions League just seemed so random, stood in the lobby of an American motel!