The Not Dayton Trip, Part Two: Arkadelphia, Arkansas to Chapmansville, Kentucky

 This is the second part of this post; you really should read them in order. 

Here's a link to Part One; and here's a link to all the pictures from this trip.

I made only one sightseeing stop today, at a weird place not far from the courthouse in Brownsville, Tennessee where it would appear Yard Art has gotten rather out of hand. The main feature of the town, as far as the traveller is concerned, is called Billy Tripp's Mindfield. It's a city block long and probably forty yards wide. 

Here's the description of the place from RoadTrippers.com:

“The Mindfield” is the creation and life’s work of Brownsville, Tennessee artist Billy Tripp. The structure was begun in 1989 and will continue to evolve until Billy’s death, at which point it will become the site of his interment.  Included in the network of steel are individual pieces representing various events and periods of Billy’s life, especially the death of his father, Rev. Charles Tripp, in 2002.  The latest addition, a water tower salvaged from a defunct factory in Western Kentucky, was dismantled, transported to Brownsville, and reconstructed single-handedly by the artist.  It now stands as a memorial to Billy’s parents as well as a testimonial to his current life, his belief in the inherent beauty of our world, and the importance of tolerance in our communities and governmental systems.”

That pretty much sums it up. I saw the water tower, a canoe, three and a half fire towers, a couple of derrick cranes, a small airplane and two large boats, along with untold articles I couldn't identify. And I have to admit that I see no relationship between this random assemblage of scrap metal and "the inherent beauty of our world." Eye of the beholder, I suppose.

But is it art?

Other than that, there's really not a lot to report from today's travel. I did get through the remaining Tennessee counties, so have now been to all the counties in 40 states; and I got the first two of the remaining Kentucky counties, so I will finish that tomorrow. (And I got about half a dozen expressions of admiration for the car. Got a few of those yesterday, too, but didn't remember it when I was writing. Anyway, it should go without saying.)

The terrain through western Tennessee was mostly flat and mostly uninteresting, though not unattractive. The first thing I noticed was the kudzu in the unmaintained areas like creek beds. It seems to be kept in check wherever people take an interest in the look of the land. And I noticed that some prosperous towns have not done a good job in keeping up with traffic. I first noticed that in Silver City, New Mexico, a couple of years ago. When I first visited there in the 1990s (probably) it was a nice, pleasant town catering to agriculture and tourism. Something seems to have taken off there since that day, and it's now choked with traffic on the outskirts where new developments are. This afternoon I saw another such town: Clarksville, Tennessee, which is stop-and-go from own end of the town to the other. I don't know what decisions that town's government has made that have resulted in such a choking of the roads, but it surely must be down to government. Other towns don't suffer the same fate.

 As I got into the unvisited Kentucky counties -- Marion, Taylor and Green -- the terrain gave way to exactly the sort of winding two-lane country highways I love to travel. Fortunately, so far at least, there's been little traffic on those roads, and I hope that as the roads get even better as I approach the Appalachian Mountains tomorrow, the thrill will get even more pronounced.

The Not Dayton Trip, Part One: San Antonio to Arkadelphia, Arkansas

Well this could be the last time
This could be the last time
Maybe the last time
I don't know
Oh no, oh no

--Mick Jagger & Keith Richards,

The Last Time

 

There is a museum in Dayton, Ohio, that I went to a few years ago called the British Transportation Museum. I've decided to give them my little English convertible, because I'm getting too old to enjoy it and nobody else in my family wants it -- it is, after all, more than 20 years old now, and a little expensive to maintain in the style it's accustomed to. Just like a trophy wife, come to think of it, and all the members of the next generation of the family are a little too intelligent to want to take on that burden. Plus, it's really not their style. They're more the Back-Country Vacation types than the fading-luxury touring-car crowd. So it'll go to a museum devoted to cars of similar parentage, where it will be appreciated for its lineage and lines: the fine materials used in its construction, the achingly beautiful sweep of the hood, the sexy swells of the wheel arches, the evocative grille, the little Pegasus melting on the dashboard (which the museum will probably remove). 

 This trip started off as a final wander in my beautiful car that would end at Dayton. But it turns out that the group that owns the museum doesn't have its tax affairs in order just now, having suffered the lot common to many small volunteer-run charitable organizations: its tax-deductible status has been suspended until its paperwork is brought up to date.

 

 That was enough of an excuse to prompt me to put off my donation until, oh, next year. But in the meantime, I had already planned the trip to the point of arranging to visit someone in New York -- since I was going to be in the area -- that I had not seen in some years. I was committed. So now the plan is a round trip: San Antonio to New York and back, and as long as I'm going all that way and probably will never be going back, I may as well tick some boxes on my bucket list. To that end, I will, on this trip, go through the last two counties in Tennessee, the last eight counties in Kentucky, and some of the many remaining counties in Georgia (on the way back, if I actually stick to the plan. I have a history of not doing so, but I still make the plans).

 So this morning I headed off for what could well be my last wander in my convertible. A bittersweet thought. I cut across Texas today from San Antonio to Texarkana, and have pulled up for the night in Arkadelphia, Arkansas. This morning I listened to a short (2-hour) audiobook written and performed by the late TV personality Steve Allen, a sort of quickie murder mystery involving the Japanese mafia in Las Vegas. I enjoyed it, and since I was just zipping along highways in broken weather I had the top up all day and could actually hear it all. (Didn't get any rain to speak of despite the forecast.) I met my friend Hank in College Station for an early lunch, and we spent a pleasant hour making plans that may or may not ever come to pass. You know how it is. After lunch I started another audiobook, Every Crooked Nanny, another light-weight murder mystery. And since I'll be on freeways until after Memphis tomorrow, I should be able to finish it before the top goes down and audiobooks become an iffy proposition.

 I'm hoping to get through Little Rock before the rush-hour traffic gets too bad in the morning, and I hope to get through Memphis in the mid-morning lull; though drivers are so bad in Tennessee that I fully expect to hit back-ups and slow-downs caused by accidents before the city limits are behind me. Then, when my audiobook is finished and I'm off the freeway, the top will come down and, I hope, stay down until Westchester. The forecasts are good -- clear skies and moderate temperatures -- and I have more than enough time for a relaxing, laid-back voyage, with lots of winding mountain roads and a smattering of interesting stops noted along the way. And even if I do make it down to Georgia on the way home, I will still have a week or so to decompress before we pile into the Subaru and go off to the Lake for the annual Huntsman Trip.

 Fingers crossed.