This morning we woke to rain, heavy and persistent, enough fill the shoes and thoroughly soak those prepared to dash from canopy to canopy, so we were thankful that today was a lay day in Memphis. The temperature dropped from 22c to 12c in a matter of hours, perhaps a precursor of what may be to follow.
Some of our number headed to oddly named Bumfus Harley Davidson, (for goodness sake, surely Memphis Harley Davidson would carry more gravitas than “Bumfus” ), others the Elvis’s Graceland, but we opted to stay local and visit a general store, A Schwarb & Co, established in 1876, handily located just around the corner and yet another treasure trove of history. Want a now very un PC sling shot, a “pop gun” or spud gun”, a kit set balsa aeroplane or other toys from the 40’s or 50’s, (or earlier), then A Schwartz & Co wasn’t going to disappoint. We spent 2 hours there without any problem, leaving having ensured their survival for a week or two longer. From there, off to Bass Pro Shop with Barb and Doc, a glass pyramid of biblical proportions, apparently built as a stadium that would host basketball and thrive, but ended as another broken dream. Now a Mecca for any thing an outdoor sportsman could ever imagine and more, hunting (need a 50 cal Barrett snipers rifle, a pink stock 22 cal for Mrs Cletus, or a $50,000 hand engraved Beretta shotgun for the slightly better heeled), any one of 100,000 fishing rods and reels, a $100,000 bass boat, a 100mph quad bike, a deer stand or a pair of woolly camouflage socks, you name it, it’s there somewhere. Want to stay in house and enjoy the experience over a period of days? Not a problem, hotel rooms decked out as hunting lodges seeming hang from the rafters - in my view, and perhaps sacrilegious in the eyes of some, far more interesting than pink Cadillacs or a house where someone famous once lived and died. Dinner tonight was at BB Kings Blues Club, the most famous, most popular and with out any doubt, the best Blues club anywhere in the world. As you’d expect, a fabulous place, loud and scruffy (an old codger in the dunny serving up paper towels and hand soap for tips). The house band comprised 8 black guys, all talented and hardened professionals, a horn, sax, guitars, drums, keyboards, even the flash Harry in a gold sequin jacket acting as a teasing pony rarking up the crowd. It took someone far more sensible than I to lead me back to the room at a reasonable hour - left to my own devices I’d forget that tomorrow is another day on the road and I’d stay until closing. Having said that, I guided my dear, long suffering and very surprised wife onto the dance floor for “Tennessee Whiskey” before departing the building.... Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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