Broke Down In Memphis Tennessee
I love my bicycle. My Specialized Roubaix’s “relaxed fit” geometry is perfect for someone (ME) on the north side of fifty hauling way more weight than necessary up North Carolina and Tennessee hills (lol). Couple of days ago my front dérailleur began NOT SHIFTING. Not shifting into low gear on some of these climbs is pretty close to life threatening for this guy. Tour riders could stay in higher gears slowing pace and still make the climb. I tend to come to a grinding halt. Even more dangerous the bike is decided what gear it wants to be in
We have the “Memphis Blues” again…
Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block
I'd ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don't talk
And the ladies treat me kindly
And furnish me with tape
But deep inside my heart
I know I can't escape
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Memphis blues again
Bob Dylan
Stuck Inside Mobile With The Memphis Blues Again
Our “Memphis Blues” were short lived as we make the most of a three-day lay over. Yesterday we say pigs fly at “Mr. Downtown” Charlie Vergos world famous Rendezvous Charcoal Ribs in an alley just off Beale Street. Music was coming out of every corner, alley and park on Beale Street as Memphis welcomed bikers for “Bikers on Beale”. Harley’s lined the road and people thronged this famous Memphis “Bourbon Street”. Every few feet gold musical notes embossed with the names of Memphis Blues Men and Women dotted the concrete. Memphis’s “walk of fame” includes names you know, Elvis Presley, and many we didn’t recognize.
This hot, humid Memphis morning Jeremy and I work up late for us these days, after seven, and rode ten miles down to the mighty Mississippi. We are camped in Shelby Forest just outside Memphis in Millington, Tennessee. We could see the great river on our Garmmon long before we could see it in person. First we climbed through forest and dale out into the flat where some of the healthiest crops we’ve seen grew in the Mississippi delta mud. Small glimpses through dense woods then suddenly an open dead end loop and the mighty, muddy Mississippi.
Being next to so much flowing history and power made me feel like Huck Finn or Tom Sawyer. Felt like we should be barefoot wearing cutoffs, straw hats and old t-shirts running next to this mighty flowing colossus. Instead Jeremy and I watched a tug pull ten barges to shore. “You coming in here,” I yelled to the two men sitting in front of this football field long floating eclectic barge? “Yeah, crew change,” the man shouted back. “What are those polls for up front,” I asked about the long polls sticking into the water. “Depth finders,” the man shouted back.
Riding back to our RV campground heat rose in moving waves like invisible walls. It wasn’t nine in the morning yet but the mercury was well past eighty and surely humidity was close to 100. I didn’t grow up in the south, but my people are from Kentucky and Texas where a summer breeze is a gift and days over a hundred degrees are common and debilitating. All you want to do is sit on a porch and drink cold beverages. When I asked the park attendant where he would ride today he said simply, “In this weather I wouldn’t.” After he stopped laughing he shared a map showing how to get to the Mississippi. “It seems like you go forever,” he said, “but just keep going.”
The Mississippi is broad, flowing in the opposite direction I expected and a deep red brown. There was an open can of correctly named catfish “stink bait” and several poll stands at the small inlet where we stopped to take a picture of the now very slow moving barge. The Mississippi seems out of time. It feels like the last century on its muddy banks. There is nothing BY the Mississippi because it has the nasty habit of jumping its banks. The Shelby Forest road was 9 miles of forest and 1 mile of river ending in a closed dead end loop.
A black Ford pickup was parked in the parking lot an empty boat trailer spoke to its mission. I turned to see the boat coming ashore. Fishing on this hot day was over by nine. Martin’s Ride would have hot days ahead, but we can only see the Mississippi for the first time once. Today we ran barefoot by the mighty Mississippi in cut offs and old t-shirts. We watched our youth fold onto itself and remembered hot summer days, cold beverages and our life’s mighty moments.
Next week we ride across Arkansas. Maps with a new course for Martin’s Ride will meet us in Little Rock. We will be moving north trying to eliminate dangerous roads in favor of beauty, mystery and more mighty moments. My mother wanted us to stop at the Mississippi. “It is a large body of water Martin,” she told me. Moms worry. It is a very good thing my mother is the last Luddite and doesn’t read this blog. She doesn’t have a computer. My mother lives where she was born in Greenville Kentucky. In Greenville the town is the computer. Something happens and phone lines light up like in the old “party line” days. I love my mother but Martin’s Ride is going to press on. We will shake our Memphis blues day after tomorrow. Stay tuned.
Martin Smith
Eclectic Cafe Midtown
Memphis Tennessee
July 15th