Excitement for the day ahead woke me up early that morning. Everything went back on the bike and I was off after my usual breakfast of Cliff bars and Gatorade. Jumping on the interstate the Memphis skyline quickly came into view and I crossed the mighty Mississippi river into Memphis.

My first stop was something very special to me. Sun Records. The birthplace of Rock’n’Roll. The site where Elvis recorded his first record for his mother and began changing history. I navigated my way through downtown Memphis and rounded a corner and found myself face to face with the historic little recording studio. I pulled over in front of it. Took some pictures and stood in amazement. I was at Sun Records recording studio in Memphis, Tennessee. The same sidewalk that Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and Carl Perkins walked down to record some of the biggest and most influential songs.

My next stop was the home of the King of Rock’n’Roll. Graceland. I pulled up to the gate and saw the admission price. $40 for the basic admission. I wanted to see it, but not that bad. I also had a lot of miles to do today. I saw the outside and called it good enough. I routed to my next destination of Nashville and set off.

I kept off the interstate to explore the back roads of this beautiful state. The road stretched through miles of stunning forests. The fall colors exploded off the trees. The sun shined down through the leaves and my bike sped down the road.

Stopping at the first auto parts stores I saw, I bought a new inline fuse and wired it up so I had a charger again. Plugging in my phone, I got gas and headed east. I had grown tired and had listened to every podcast I could. I changed my routine and listened to music. Feeling the Rock’n’Roll spirit, I plugged in Johnny Cash and soon the blissful feeling of the road overcame me.

You could feel the history of each town as you passed through them. Brick buildings, older than the American Civil War, stood with a presence. The people here also appreciated that history, unlike the west coast. They preserved historic things. I appreciated it greatly. My motorcycle is somewhat of a relic nowadays. It is old and I can’t even take it to most motorcycle shops. They refuse to work on it because of its age. So I learned how to take care of it. I fix her when something goes wrong. Because it’s a piece of history. It is now my history and I will continue to write it on my bike. Appreciate old things. We make no progress without those old things. Progress is achieved slowly not instantly.

Memphis to Nashville is a short trip, but I was taking the long way. I had another stop I wanted to see. Thanks to social media I was able to follow an Instagram account of another fellow vintage motorcycle lover. Mike Wolfe from the History Channels ‘American Pickers’. He was always posting pictures of this little town called Columbia, Tennessee. I decided to see where it was and low and behold it was right outside of Nashville. It was my next stop.

I rolled into downtown Columbia, and one thing to know about east coast towns is that they are all centered around a roundabout and spoke out like a wagon wheel. Now most towns have a small little roundabout with a garden in the center. No. Columbia had their courthouse there. Right, smack in the center of town. It was magnificent. It towered of the town square. The white gloss paint glistening in the hot sun. I had a late lunch at a local diner that had been in this town since diners were first popular. I walked around the square and admired this town. It was quintessential Americana. I fell in love with this town. Hats off to Mike Wolfe. I would have completely missed this great town if it wasn’t for him. I did not want to leave but Nashville was waiting.

I was staying in a hotel just outside Nashville, in Murfreesboro. After a quick ride on the interstate, I found my hotel. Now I know it was Saturday because I was wearing my Marcus Mariota Oregon Duck football jersey. My Oregon Ducks were playing their bitter rivals, the Washington Huskies. I would get to watch the game tonight in my hotel room. I grabbed White Castle for dinner, as I had never had it. It was revolting. I’m baffled as to why Harold and Kumar went to White Castle. They should have just gone to Taco Bell like real stoners. But I suffered through it and watched my Ducks get their ass handed to them by the Huskies.

I changed the channel to avoid the beat down of my Ducks. Relaxing with some mindless tv, I reminisced about the day. Every night I would try to comprehend the magnitude of what I had done so far. I could never really get it. My mind was stuck in the moment. It is still that way. As I look back and write these, it doesn’t feel big. It feels natural. It lights a fire in me to continue to travel and never stop.

After planning my stops in Nashville for the next morning, I soon fell asleep. I had given up on trying to wrap my head around what I was doing. Save it for another time. Right now I had a life to live and enjoy. Nashville awaited me.