Martins Ride Brian's Daily Journal: Day 13
Martin’s ride has crossed a time zone! We woke at 5:30 surprised to see the sun. Going back an hour means the sun will be HOT an hour earlier. Martin and I had rode out of downtown Dechard staying on Tennessee route fifty most of the day. Early morning fog was thick, so thick the sun shone silver. We descended rapidly down a curvy hill. I lost Martin in the fog. I could barely see ten feet. Glancing backward I was startled to see how quickly mist enveloped farms. Farms I could easily see moments ago disappeared in the mist.
Hearing phantom barks on either side of me, I clicked into a higher gear. Martin materialized out of thin air in front of me. Hairs on my arms were like blades of grass covered in morning dew. How I would yearn for this time hours later when it got HOT and HUMID. We passed a hundred ancient barns seeing parts of broken cars and rusted tractors in every combination. One farmer displayed his tractors in a single line seemingly from newest to oldest. I imagined his predecessors farming in simpler times. . The last six days in Tennessee included hundreds of campaign signs for local primary elections. When I saw the sign, “We Support Mr. Jolley Drop the Charges” I was intrigued. Who is Mr. Jolly and why should charges be dropped. A Tennessee mystery that may never be solved by Martin's Ride (lol).
Fifteen miles before Fayetville we took pictures in front of a Jack Daniels sign. We were near Lynchberg, Tennessee also known as the home of Jack Daniels distillery. Free tour was only two miles away. Unfortunately today is a Sunday and their gift shop was not open. The Jack Daniels factor was also in the opposite direction so we pushed on heading west. We kept on riding Highway sixty-four. The speed limit was a perilous sixty-five and the rolling hills made for prolonged climbs. We felt the heat from the extra hour we gained. 11:00 AM felt significantly hotter than it would have been at 10:00 AM before the time change.
Jeremy was stopping every ten to fifteen miles on the route to check on us. Now he started checking every five miles. Finally after riding fifty-one miles we conceded to the heat and sun’s rays plopping ourselves the RV. Our path took us through Lawrenceburg birthplace of successful actor and failed presidential candidate Fred Thompson. We made camp at the David Crockett State Park. Dinner consisted of lean cuisine, yogurt and pancakes. Five minutes after dinner Jeremy rode to the park office. It started to downpour. Raindrops falling on our RV roof sounded like hundreds of Octopus’s suction cups detaching themselves. Tomorrow’s wake up call is 4:30 AM. So long for now!
Brian Russo
Martins Ride Intern
David Crockett State Park