Recently a coworker asked if I'd ever been to Memphis.
I have been. I took a road trip alone when I was young.
My fiancé at the time thought it was ludicrous. I thought it was wholly necessary.
(This could, in fact, be the entire premise on which our proposed nuptials failed. The guy did not get me. Not for a moment.)
I wore a bandana on my head, and long, comfortable, flowy skirts.
I stopped through Nashville for some reason, and changed clothes in a parking garage. That was my entire virgin Nashville experience...changing outfits in a parking garage!
I listened to whatever music I wanted. I talked to the truckers with my headlights.
Once I got to Memphis, I was disappointed by: Sun Studios, and Saint Jude's Children's Research Hospital. I didn't even go into Graceland.
However, I did recommend all these stops to my coworker. She will plan tours ahead. I believe if I'd done that, I'd have gotten a different outcome.
But I planned nothing for my venture. Which is the key point of this tale.
The entire thing was fully spontaneous.
Which is why the events I remember most vividly were the most random.
Near Sun Studios was a diner. They had eggs and toast. A couple of old guys with motorcycles were there while I got my grub. These guys told me *they* could show me the real Memphis.
Of course they could, why not?? I knew tons of grizzly old dudes that rode Harleys. Most of them were my relatives.
So, I went for it.
It was perfect.
I got the Graceland "tour" from outside the fence, no money paid.
I got an awesome ride. I got tons of tips about local restaurants and points of interest.
They told me about the best of Beale Street; where to stop, where to pass by.
Perhaps I could have been assaulted, or abducted, or worse?
Perhaps...but I wasn't.
I would never do that now. But then? Then it was perfect. And perfectly fine.
There was a purity then. One that will never be recreated.
And that's okay, as well.
But I'm glad, more than glad, that I did that route, that way, that one time.
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