Almost Nashville and plan on stopping and hitting 16th street, I have a couple of songs to sell them, get rich and famous and make my mark on the country music scene. Damn. its hot and I really hate to get off the main road and have to do the stoplight traffic right now, but hell, Nashville can’t be that big, afterall it is just a little country music town in Tennessee. All these thoughts running through my head as I pull of I 40 at one of the first Nashville exits and head into the unknown. Must not be any drivers education in Tennessee and what brilliant highway engineer timed these stop lights, I hit red on everyone, they gotta have sensors for motorcycles? I can’t take this no more, have to find a place with shade to pull over and quick! Here, turn here, wow look at that!
I was just looking for shade but this is what caught my eye from the road.
I invited myself in to John Harding’s horse trainers cabin but nobody was home.
I was in the back yard or the back 40 of the Belle Meade Plantation which was established in 1807 and became the heart of Tennessee Thouroughbred horse training, breeding and racing. As early as 1816 there were advertisements in the Nashville paper for stud service at the Belle Meade Plantation. Somehow during the civil war, now General John Harding’s horses were never commisioned for the war effort like all the other horses in the area. I had my shade, water and tour so it was time to get back on it and head for town center. This place is crazy, there is no way to get in the right lane before it is too late and I am forced off the main road time and time again. Between keeping my traffic space amongst the crazies, the heat, the stoplights and the street and road signs covered by trees I was finally lost. This place was like a war, viet nam, viet fucking nashville. Lost in Nashville. how the hell does that happen? Okay, follow the traffic and I did and it took me back to interstate where I gave up my idea of selling my songs and being a country music star besides the bum under the bridge told me that I needed to write songs for cash and not for the soul.
Think I will go see Andy
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