Tennessee 2010 - Part 2

My morning routine, when visiting my parents, is to get up fairly early and drink my coffee in the shade of the maple tree, out in the front yard.  Eventually, everyone drifts out there and we sit in a circle of lawn chairs, talking and drinking java, petting the dog, etc.

On Thursday, as I sat sipping my cuppa, I could see what I thought was just a cicada hanging from the lowest limb of the evergreen by the driveway.  Eventually, I went to take a look at it, and saw that it was emerging from its chrysalis.  By the time I got my camera, the cicada was out, but still drying his wings.

Coincidentally, OldFool posted about a very similar experience, the other day. 

When I was a kid, my sister and I would spend time at my grandparents' house and the house of my two great-aunts, in the summer.  My great-aunt Alida would pick up the empty cicada shells and hang them from the curtain in the sitting-room.  Once the curtain was pretty full, it had a strange kind of beauty.

Alida was the oldest of three sisters (her, then my grandmother, then Kate).  Apparently, her parents thought she was the only child they would ever have, because they gave her every name they could come up with:  Alida Liza Bertha Franklin Schubert.  The second sister, my grandmother, was named Ruby Vera Schubert.  The youngest sister was simply Kate Schubert.  By then, they had run out of names, I guess...

Drew (my cousin Carol's boy), is going to be our next guitar player in the family.  Look out, Dwight Yoakam!

The bike, all loaded up for the trip home.  Man, it was muggy, that day!  It rained for a couple of hours, in the morning, but the sun came out and steamed the place up by the time I left at noon.

Note the guitar I picked up in Waynesboro, Tennessee, swaddled in trash bags and packing tape.  It got home dry, despite the 6 different rain showers I rode through, in two days.  I'll post details about the guitar over on 52 Card Pickup, later, if you are interested in it.  It is a 1960s Teisco electric, and it sounds pretty cool.

I couldn't carry my other purchase, conveniently, so my sister is taking it home to Pennsylvania, then delivering it when she and the family come out to Denver in July.  It's a vintage illustrated ice bucket, with drink recipes on it, as well.

The illustration for the "Old Fashioned" is particularly charming.  I love this style, and the ice bucket will take a place of honor in the GrinderBar.

The ride home was my favorite kind:  uneventful.  I left Savannah at around noon, and ended up stopping in Columbia, Mo, for the night.  I had hoped to make it to KC or Topeka, but there was a pair of wrecks on the Interstate, and traffic was backed up for miles.  After crawling along at a walking pace for nearly 10 miles, I pulled off at the first possible time and got a room in a Motel 6 (I haven't stayed in one of those for years), because it was next door to a Red Lobster restaurant.  I figured it would be nice to just walk across the parking lot to get dinner, rather than have to get back on the bike.

I slept like a baby until 6:00, the next morning, then got up and headed west at about 7:00.  Twelve hours later, I was home, having ridden about 720 miles.  The bike worked like a champ, the seat was comfy, and the only mechanical issue of the whole trip was just normal wear on the chain.  It is now at the end of it's adjustment, so I will have to replace it and the sprockets, soon.

The dogs seemed glad to see me, but they were relatively nonchalant about me getting back.  I ascribe that to the fact that my buddy Mark dog-sat for me, and he spoils them rotten.  They were probably hoping I had sold the house to Mark, and they had a new roommate.

Sunday morning, I got back into the Denver routine and went to Kaladi Brothers for coffee, and regaled the regulars with tales of my trip.  As I slipped back into the normal life, I was already nostalgic for the road.  I've apparently got a travelling bone in me, somewhere...

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