Memphis, TN – evening

What a generally excellent day.

I mean, considering I had to get up at six in the morning (did anyone catch that I was completed screwed up with regard to the time change when I complained about having to get up at 5 “my time?”  I left my watch set to EDT, but set the clock in the RV to local time (since I have to reset it every time I’ve unhooked).  I was in bed reading and had a panic attack when I realized I must have set the alarm wrong, because the hours of sleep the clock suggested I had left differed from the suggestion my watch had.  Still, 7am “my time” is too damn early, any way you slice it…) and drop seven bills at a Chevy repair shop, the day had a ways to go to make up for it.

I mentioned breakfast, after that they told me I had about four hours until the RV would be ready.  So I hopped in the Tracker to see what Nashville had to offer.

At first, I was a little disappointed.  I drove directly towards downtown on the road where the Chevy place was located, and turned down a couple streets in the downtown area.  It looked pretty much like every other downtown area in the US (that homogenization issue rears its ugly but familiar head), and, besides, it was only eight-thirty in the morning at this point: everything was still closed.

After realizing I was approximately two turns away from not being able to find my way back to the Chevy place, I retraced my steps and drove back towards Opryland: there was a lot of associated tourist crap around there…

Several of the museums along Music Valley Road (and here I use the term “museum” in it’s loosest possible sense) opened at nine, so I had a few minutes to select which might best pass some time.  Cars of the Stars?  The Willie Nelson and Friends Wax Musuem (What, you think I’m making these up?  You can’t make up crap like this)?  Luckily (only considering the circumstances was it lucky), each and every one of these museums had a gift shop out front.  Now, these aren’t your typical museum gift shops (and why would they be, at this point?) where you could buy items associated with the subject of the museum.  No, this was like being in some land-locked Gay Dolphin where all the snow globe ashtrays have “Myrtle Beach” scratched out and a cowboy hat and “Nashville” penned in, many times spelled correctly.  And no, that’s not the part I consider “lucky.”

The lucky part was that the security was not what you’d call air-tight, and you could see into the museums and check out an exhibit or two before ponying up the admittance fee.  Now, I think we all know that I eliminated The Willie Nelson and Friends Wax Musuem from contention at the outset, and, further, I think we all know why.  So I snuck a peek into the Cars of the Stars museum.

You know the stories that you hear about celebrities with too much money who buy the stretch limosines with TVs and bars and bowling alleys in them?  Well, them’s not the cars what are in here.

What we’ve got here is the burned out husk of a ’50 Ford that Elvis once traded for his first train ticket anywhere the hell out of Tupelo.

Get yourself a couple sheets of cardboard, write things like “Dolly Parton’s Chevrolet” and “Loretta Lynn’s Buick” and “Billy Ray Cyrus’ Yugo” on them, then go to any used car lot and set the signs on the hoods, and you’ve got a reasonable facsimile of the Cars of the Stars Museum experience.

So I chose the one remaining option, the as-yet-unmentioned-in-this-account Toy and Train Museum.  Inside the obligatory gift shop offering hilarious gee-gaws like the plaque picturing two naked youngsters from behind, the little boy uttering to the little girl that boffo punchline: “No, you can’t touch it, you already broke yours off,” were two halls, of a total area a bit less than that of my rather spartan house.  Now that I think about it, I think there are probably several more toys _in_ my house than in this museum…

Now, they did have some interesting stuff that I would have liked to have known more about.  But the organization was like a rough cut of cleaning up your room as a child: first pile all the toy soldiers here, all the windup cars here, all the toy boats here.  The only difference is these people put up windows and started charging other folks for a look.  The documentation, when there was any, was hand printed in large letters on narrow paper, with what I’ll generously refer to as creative hyphenation, and tended towards the general: “The tin cars in this display were made from 1890 to 1950, in the US, England, Germany, and Japan.”  I’d have a better chance of learning about the history of a particular car with a calendar, a globe, and two darts.

And I don’t know much about the preservation of wood, metal, and plastic, but they also had original boxes for some of the toys, and even one comic book.  And I _do_ know something about the preservation of paper.  And you could learn a lot about how to properly preserve paper by simply doing the opposite of everything that they had done: bare paper (it was one of those give-away books with no glossy cover) laying under flourescent lights, surrounded by items made of cheap plastic (most plastics are constantly breaking down and releasing dangerous gases.  Just another example of better living through chemistry).  I stood there and watched the book decay for a few minutes, just for a larf.

The train section was a little more interesting, but tended towards wind-up English trains, rather than the Lionel O gauge stuff I’ve learned a bit about through osmosis.  They had a reasonably impressive electric layout going; my Dad would have loved that little steam engine careening through the pressboard town at about 274 scale miles an hour.

After that little adventure (which I actually rather enjoyed, despite my overly-syllabic evisceration of the experience), I stopped at the neighborhood outlet mall.  There’s that homogenization thing again.  No lie, on this trip I’ve now driven past five, FIVE, sets of Tanger Outlet Stores (ever since I saw my first set in Commerce, GA, years ago, I’ve wanted to vandalize the “T” in their sign, so they’d be the ANGER OUTLET MALL.  I feel this more accurately represents what is typically going on there, anyway).  Anyway, this time it worked in my favor, because I knew there’d be a Totes outlet there (there was) and I could buy a cheap umbrella (I did).  The umbrella had a tag that showed the $5.99 price was an excellent bargain, as the umbrella had a suggested retail value of $22.  Kind of disillusioning that the umbrella’s slip case was clearly labelled “Suggested Retail: $12.”

This had not yet filled up my alloted time.  I started driving back towards the Chevy place, not knowing where things might be that were fun yet close enough and easy enough to get to.  On the way in, I saw a sign for the Hermitage, and thought that might be cool.

I suppose it was.  I guess that sort of thing is simply lost on me.  Bygone opulence, restored, rebuilt, and repainted to hold at arms length for nine bucks a head.  Some of you know my comic collecting tends to be lower-grade stuff.  There are several reasons for this (it’s more affordable and available, so I might actually complete runs I start, and I can read them with my own oily fingers without worrying about damaging them further), but one is that low-grade (the more beat-up stuff) lends a sense of history for me:  I can _feel_ the time that’s passed, I gain perspective on what the object has gone through to get here.  High grade items, and particularly restored items, whether comic books or the homes of dead presidents, offer me no texture, no struggle, no sense of survival.  The Hermitage looked to me like a great big dollhouse, with which I was not allowed to play.

Man, rereading that last paragraph, it looks like I had a crappy time.  I really didn’t, I enjoyed it while I was there, and I’m glad I went.  Perhaps the value in those kinds of things is not what we see in the object, but what the object shows us in ourselves.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, I then went and wrote a fat check for RV repair, ran across a fantastic comic book store (did I mention my newly-acquired Amazing Adventures #1? Oh, yeah, I did…), found a KOA Kampground next door to Graceland (for true, _next_ _door_ to Graceland.  I’m walking there tomorrow morning.  For some reason that’s a little unreal to me.  Walking to Graceland…), drove there, made myself some sammiches, and sat down to write.  Thanks for reading what I’m certain is the longest update yet.  It was a lot of fun to write, I hope that comes through when you read it.

And please keep the email coming.  I know my replies are kind of short (because I typically have to run my email there at the counter while people are checking in or buying biodegradable toilet paper for chemical toilets), but email is the only human contact I get that goes beyond “Are you ready to order,” “Will that be cash or charge,” or “And please remember, NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY.”

Memphis, TN – afternoon

Yes, I’m walking in Memphis.

The RV seems much happier now, thank you very much.  It did set me back an alternator, a starter, and the labor to put them in, but, as I mentioned in my last report, better there than in the middle of the desert somewhere.

When planning the trip, I had thought about the possibility of driving at night, then sleeping in rest areas which are going to be much safer in the daylight.  Well, since I had to get up so early today, I stopped along the way to take a nap.  I soon realized my little plan was doomed.  Ever been in an RV in Tennessee in the daytime without electricity?  I’ve been in toaster ovens that were cooler, and damn near as roomy.  No way I’m gonna try that in a desert, nor even a prairie…

Once again, the KOA Kampground I’m staying at is modem-friendly during the store’s operating hours.  So this entry is going to be short, but I’ll probably do a longer entry tonight.  Just don’t expect to see it until after I get up tomorrow…

Oh, something I’m excited about:  Amazing Adventures, Vol. 1 No. 1, featuring Dr. Droom by Jack Kirby, 1st Marvel Silver Age Super-hero, pre-dating the Fantastic Four by 5 months, Good+ condition.  A hundred bucks.  Mine, mine, mine.

Nashville, TN – morning

No sooner do I complain about not being able to find the good-food-at-good-prices, small-time, home-town kind of restaurants than I’m sitting in one.  Capital Chevrolet (the wonderful folks who were the only ones in this time zone who’d said they could fit me in.  When in Nashville, please stop in and buy several fine Chevrolets) is right across the street from just such an establishment.  The service manager told me to call back in about 30-40 minutes, and suggested breakfast.  “There’s a McDonald’s and stuff,” she wrinked her face as she said it, “but Diane’s is a real good home-cooking place, and you get a lot for cheap.”  Sold.  I’m waiting on my cheese omelet with biscuits and gravy and home fries, now.

And now I’m eating.  How’s this for up-to-the-minute web page reporting?  I can now officially recommend Diane’s Kitchen, on Murphreesboro Road in Nashville.  The omelet is very good, but the biscuits and gravy are great and the home fries are almost potato-chippy, sliced thin and fried crispy.  Wonderful.  I’m going to go eat now.

Well, now I’m back in the office of Capitol Chevrolet, they’re finishing up looking at the belts and are getting me a price on a starter (it’s been, shall we say, reluctant).  They have a waiting room with a… wait for it… extra phone line.

If you’ve known me a couple of years, you know I’ve gone through some changes over that time.  One of the biggest, I think, is the way I can now look at things differently, and by doing so, have them affect me differently.  Two years ago, I’d be bitching and moaning about having to be up so early, wasting time in a repair shop, just knowing that they were going to rip me off for parts and labor.  Now, though, it’s so much easier to look at things this way:  I had breakfast in a great little restaurant that was just the sort of thing I’d been hoping to find, I’ve got a little extra time with a phone line (again, check last night’s update.  That was exactly what I needed), and any expense here I can mentally compare to the expense and pain of having it break down on the road in the middle of the desert somewhere.  Whereas two years ago, I’d have been bitchy with everyone and generally upset, now everyone seems to be smiling and chatting with me, and I’m generally happy.

A couple friends I’ve been talking to lately have been having some difficult times (they know who they are), and find it hard to swallow my advice that just re-framing things this way can make any real difference.

Sitting here now, I have to reiterate: “Yes, it does.”

Nashville, TN

Well, I’m in Nashville.  More specifically, I’m just off the Briley Parkway.  Okay, I’m actually on Music Valley Drive.  Alright, alright, yes, I’m at Opryland.  I know that seems like an odd place for one with my musical tastes to be hanging out.  But when you imagine the type of folks who would probably enjoy Opryland, then imagine the type of folks who would likely vacation in a motor home… well, you can do the math.  You can’t swing a dead cat on this road without hitting two RV parks and a wax museum (Disclaimer: no dead cats were harmed in the preparation of this tour update).

Actually, there was an ad in the campbook I have for an RV sales and service joint right next door to this campground.  The RV has been making this squealing sound when it starts up and when the big engine cooling fans kick in while running, kinda like there’s a belt loose or something.  Seeing as how I’ve been driving through the mountains of Georgia and Tennessee, you can understand my desire to keep any squealing to an absolute minimum.  So I was hoping these jokers could take a look at it, and I chose the closest campground.  Well, it turns out there are some subtleties to the phrase “RV service” of which I was not previously aware.  Silly me, I assumed it meant that they might service my RV, and I had to be educated by a man wearing what appeared to be his Sunday-go-to-Meeting overalls that the “RV” in “RV service” refers only to the house-type part that you can walk around in.  Further, this housy part is attached to something called a chassis, which, as far as I can ascertain, is basically a long El Camino.  After being properly advised of the terminology, I began a series of phone calls, each a unique adventure, yet each invariably ending with the phrase “Naw, we don’t do no chassis work.”  By the end of the last call, I realized that these were all simply salesmen of 3/4 sized furniture with drawers that spring open automatically when the RV hits 45 miles per hour (the furniture’s drawers, not the salesmen’s.  Brrr, now _there’s_ a grisly bit of imagery).

There are apparently twelve people in the continental US who do chassis work on RVs.  All of them are booked through the turn of the century, thanks for asking, so if you’re planning to have an RV breakdown early next millenium, you should call now.  I expect RV chassis mechanic to be the hot job market over the next several years.

I finally got a number for someone that someone’s friend once “took a motor home ta,” and they said they could try to look at it first thing in the morning.  A Chevy dealership, I guess it’s more like an El Camino than I knew.

So now I get to get up at 6:00 in the morning to get to the Chevy dealership when they open up at 7:00.  And I just crossed into the Central Time Zone, so I’m to be up at 5, my time, tomorrow morning (stop laughing, Lon).

All of which actually has nothing to do with what I wanted to talk about today, which is the homogenization of America.  First, there’s that street in your town that, not long ago, was pretty much empty.  Now, however, there’s four lanes of traffic and a turn lane.  Looking down the road you see Circuit City, Taco Bell, Wal-Mart, Sports Authority, KFC, and a gas station where you can buy hot dogs that have been spinning since the Eisenhower administration, single roses in plastic, and digital watches for $1.99.  Coming back up the other side is Office Depot, Pizza Hut, Nationsbank, McDonald’s, and the locally named version of the Mexican restaurant where the #4 is a taco, an enchilada, and a tostada.

How do I know about that street?  The same street is everywhere I’ve gone.  Back home, we called ours Laurens Road (or Woodruff Road, if you’re newer to the area, but they’re the same road.  And don’t give me any crap about them intersecting…).

More subtle than that are the restaurants.  Max and Erma’s, Bennigan’s, O’Charley’s, Friday’s, Ruby Tuesday’s, they’re all the same damn place.  Rio Bravo, Don Pablo’s, Chi-Chi’s, El Torito, the same story Mexi-fied.

As I was driving around Nashville tonight looking for the Chevy dealership (no way I’m waiting till morning and trying to find it in the dark), I thought about having dinner in some place like a Two Guys or a Taco Casa: a place that might not look like much, but had great food at good prices.  Just try to find those places, I dare you.  There’s no way to tell if the not-looking-like-much is the sign of unpretentious quality, or of a quick dose of E. coli, at least until the doctor’s tests come back.

So I ate at El Rio Pablo’s, or some such.  They charged me for chips and salsa.  Didn’t tell me they were going to:  I sat down, she said “Care for chips and salsa?” and, like a dork, I said okay.  $1.99 showed up on the ticket.  I tipped 15% (which, for me, is actually a fairly low tip already.  Work in restaurants a few years and your attitudes towards these things change quickly), but I used what the meal would have cost without that 2 bucks for my tip computation.

I’ll bet that showed her.

LATER THAT NIGHT (A special bonus update section)

Okay, I did, in fact, write all this on the 28th.  However, no one’s going to see it for several days after that.  Had a small problem, you see…

Ever hear of FTP?  It stands for file transfer protocol, and it’s a way of moving files from one computer to another over the Internet.  More specifically, it’s the way I move my web pages from my laptop to the server in Atlanta where www.jjewell.com is actually located.  I create the page on my laptop, connect to the ‘net, and FTP the new pages to the server so you can see them with your browser.  I use a program called CuteFTP 2.0, largely because I used to use CuteFTP 1.0 before I upgraded to WIN95.  New operating system, new version of the program.  One of the reasons I liked CuteFTP in the first place is that it was shareware.  Now, I never bothered to actually pay for it, and CuteFTP 1.0 kept popping up a little box that said “please register,” but let you go on and use the program anyway.  Well, CuteFTP 2.0 seems to have fixed that little bug.  I really did intend to register before I left, but it was one of those things that “I can do later” and now here I am, not registered, and the damn thing made good on it’s threat to not work no more.

It’s not a huge deal, I can register via the web and get my registration via email in 24 to 48 hours (according to the web site).  The bad news is that the connection I had tonight (I went to the camp office to connect somewhere between “I’ll bet that showed her” and “LATER THAT NIGHT”) was so bad I couldn’t get the registration page to load properly, so it’ll be 24 to 48 hours from the next good connection I get (which could be a day or two, easy), and then it depends on how soon after they send it that I get my mail (Again, a day or two is not out of the question).  So, worst case, it might be a week before you see new web pages.

Unless the thing is stupid enough to just let me roll back the date…

Kennesaw, GA – late night

Last update from Georgia.  I realize that not much has gone on, particularly not much that was worthy of three updates in a day, but I’m still figuring out how this whole process is going to work.  I was hoping to have phone hookups to the RV, but apparently those are pretty rare, but available if you look hard enough.  At least this place had a modem jack in the office:  I had to download mail and upload the web pages while standing there at the check-in counter.

The good news is that I’ve worked out a system for minimizing the amount of time actually on the modem while still getting mail answered and the web updated in a relatively timely manner.  I’m writing this around midnight the 27th, and will post it the morning of the 28th before I hit the road for Nashville.  Not too bad.  Now the question becomes what will my access look like from the Volunteer State.  Stay tuned…

What I learned in Kennesaw, GA:

1.  Cell phone salespersons do not always tell you what you need to know back when you bought the damn thing.  But other cell phone salespersons will go well out of their way to help you, including making long-distance phone calls for you, even when they know they’re not going to make a dime off of you.  Good luck determining the difference at first glance.

2.  The OK Cafe is every bit as fantastic as I remember it being.  After stuffing myself with country fried steak, macaroni and cheese (six different cheeses.  The words “that’s just too much cheese” have never left my mouth, but the temptation was there), and whole kernel corn (many of the kernels were still in rows from where they were freshly sliced from the cob), I decided to have a little dessert.  It would have been more fair if they had actually written “Piece of Chocolate Cake as big as your Head” on the menu, so a person would know what he was in for (can anyone rewrite that sentence for me so that it doesn’t end in a preposition?).  There’s a French phrase for being stuffed that translates to: “My back teeth are bathing in it.”  That’s just precisely how I feel right now…

3.  I need to buy an umbrella.

4.  A change of scenery can be good creatively.  I’ve had a song sitting around that had refused to let me write any more lyrics for it.  I liked the music a lot, but after about a verse, the words ran dry.  I’ve been back to it off and on over the past year or so, but it stubbornly remained unusably abbreviated (why is abbreviated such a long word?).  Well, sitting here tonight I wrote that son-of-a-bitch the last verse it so richly deserved.  I almost broke out the four-track to get it on tape right away, but then I realized what time it was, how early I’m hoping to get going tomorrow and everything I need to do to prepare for that, and just how well packed the four-track and its associated cables are, and I decided that perhaps Nashville or Memphis would be a more appropriate place to record music (I understand they do a little of that in both places…).

That’s all for tonight.  Please drop me an email if you’re actually reading these, I’d love to hear from you, whoever you are.

Kennesaw, GA – afternoon

Well, the rain and Bell Atlantic conspired to keep me from getting back on schedule.  If you ever try to take a cell phone out of town, interrogate your service provider, using all means of torture available to you, to make them ‘fess up to any secret codes or IDs or PINs you’re going to need.  You have to have a PIN to use the phone in the Atlanta area.  How do you get a PIN?  Call your service provider.  How do you call your service provider?  With a PIN.  Arrgh.  Luckily, a helpful woman at Bell South Mobile (absolutely no relation to Bell Atantic Mobile, of course, even though they use the same logo and advertising materials, which is what attracted my attention to stop in there in the first place.  But I digress…) made the long distance call on her dime and was able to get me what I needed.

But that took a lot longer than I had budgetted for, and the rain got harder and I decided I didn’t want to hook up the Tracker in that mess.  Besides, I’ve got a computer hookup here, which I’m learning might not be as ubiquitous as I had thought.  Even farther out beside that, I think I’m going to treat myself to dinner at the OK Cafe (I’ll be thinking about you, Zywick).

I expect to be in Nashville tomorrow night, and Memphis the night after that, although I might spend some extra time in Nashville and get back to the schedule somewhere around Denver.  I also expect to do a third update later tonight.

Kennesaw, GA – morning

Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t get out of Greenville on the 25th.  Picky, picky, picky.  It’s now the 27th, and, as per the schedule, I woke up in Atlanta, or at least the greater metropolitan area thereof.  More precisely, I’m in a KOA Kampground (isn’t that cute with the “K” in “Kampground?”  I think they should be Kwality KOA Kampgrounds, just so they could advertise as KK… never mind) in Kennesaw, GA, a bit up I-75, for to give me a headstart on Nashville when I leave later today.  It’s rainy, which makes me kind of cranky, and, frankly, quite wet.  But I found a natural food store, and I think I’m going to be able to clear up my phone problems today (if any of you were expecting a phone call on the 26th and didn’t get one, blame the Altanta-area cell phone companies nazi-esque policies concerning roaming in their area, or as they like to call it, their “turf”).  Well, great, it’s raining harder now, and it’s time for me to hook up the jeep and get moving.  Glad I brought my raincoat.

Greenville, SC

Okay, I’m still at home, but the RV is in the yard and I’m getting packed.  There are several goals I have for this trip.  I want to learn how to use my camera, so I bought a bunch of film and I’m going to a lot of Natural Wonder type sites.  I want to build my collections of comic books, computers, and guitars, so I will be visiting those kinds of stores all along the way, as well as attending the largest conventions this year for comics and Atari computers (yes, some of us still own and run Atari computers).  I want to record and edit some of my songs so that I will have a usable demo tape when I get back.  And on a somewhat grander scale, I want to have some time to myself to figure out who and what I want to be after this is over with (the trip, I mean).

At the moment, I’m planning to leave either this weekend or early next week.  This has moved from my original plan of leaving yesterday or today.  The main reason for this is I’ve been having trouble getting locations in mind for the trip west, and I keep finding things I want to do as I return east.  Given that some days out west are in fact nailed down, I’m shortening the west bound trip in anticipation of lengthening the eastbound.  Right now, this is what things look like:

July 25, 26 Atlanta, GA

July 27 Nashville TN

July 28, 29 Memphis TN

July 30, 31 St. Louis, MO

August 1 Lost in the prarie (okay, _you_ find something fun in Kansas…)

August 2-4 Denver, CO

August 5 Somewhere in or around Cortez, CO

August 6, 7 Grand Canyon Village, AZ

August 8 Lake Mead National Recreation Area, AZ

August 9-17 San Diego, CA

August 18, 19 Los Angeles/San Bernardino CA

August 20-23 Las Vegas, NV

August 24 Somewhere in or around Tonopah, NV

August 25 Reno, NV

August 26, 27 Klamath Falls, OR

August 28 Newport, OR

August 29-September 1 Portland, OR

After this, things get sketchy again.  The general direction will be east, but the specifics will depend on a lot of variables I cannot foresee at the moment (like wether I find that ’63 Gibson reverse-body Firebird, or that pre-CBS Fender Jaguar, or that Comic Cavalcade #1, or that… well, you get the idea).  I’ll post more details as things get more clear.

NAT Home

Here’s the plan:  the plant where I worked (okay, “worked” is perhaps a stretch here.  Let’s say the plant that paid me for my continued attendance and leave it at that) is shutting down, and they started offering severance packages.  I got the hell out of Dodge.  One of the upsides of working for a big company is that they really take care of you when they put you out of work, so I was faced with a big chunk of time where I really didn’t have to do anything if I didn’t want to.  Rather than bank the proceeds and find another job right away (which was my mother’s brilliant plan.  Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m really related to her…), I decided to borrow the RV belonging to my sister Susie and brother-in-law Bill.  Heeding the ancient call of “Go West” (my SC home kinda dictated that “going East” would result in an odyssey less epic than the one I have in mind), I signed over a portion of my stash to AAA, who must have wiped out an acre or two of old growth forest to print all the maps they gave me.

There are a few stops that are set in stone (San Diego, August 10-18, for ComicCon International; Las Vegas, August 21-23, for World of Atari ’98), and the rest I’m making up as I go.  I’m taking my laptop and a list of local access numbers with me, so I hope to update the Tour pages as I go.  This also means that, theoretically at least, I can get email, so feel free to drop me an electronic line if you know of something I absolutely must see, hear, or drink on my trip (yes, I’m going to Newport.  Yes, I’m parking the RV at the Rogue brewery and filling the fresh water tank with Shakespeare Stout), particularly if you’re interested in meeting up with me for the festivities.

The tentative schedule looks like this, with notes on where I _actually_ was compared to the plan: (NOTE: as of 08/02/98, this has all gone to hell.  See update for 08/02/98 for more information).

July 25, 26 Atlanta, GA

July 25: Greenville, July 26: Atlanta

July 27 Nashville TN

July 27: Atlanta

July 28, 29 Memphis TN

July 28: Nashville, July  29: Memphis

July 30, 31 St. Louis, MO

July 30: Memphis, July 31: St. Louis

August 1 Lost in the prarie (okay, _you_ find something fun in Kansas…)

August 1: Salina, KS

August 2-4 Denver, CO

August 2: Salina, KS

August 5 Somewhere in or around Cortez, CO

August 6, 7 Grand Canyon Village, AZ

August 8 Lake Mead National Recreation Area, AZ

August 9-17 San Diego, CA

August 18, 19 Los Angeles/San Bernardino CA

August 20-23 Las Vegas, NV

August 24 Somewhere in or around Tonopah, NV

August 25 Reno, NV

August 26, 27 Klamath Falls, OR

August 28 Newport, OR

August 29-September 1 Portland, OR

Hopefully, below this blurb is an ever-growing list of dated articles created as the trip unfolds.  Have fun, I’m going to.

07/23/98