Still… Shreveport didn’t suck

After 200 miles of drizzle, sun started to peak out around Memphis, and by Texarkana it was nothing but blue skies. Shreveport occupies the middle ground between Vegas and whatever that armpit was called when I went racing in Utah… Wendover maybe.  I’ve repressed it. 

Had a pint in excellent dive bar called the sand Bar followed by everything Cajun for dinner before heading home to Sam’s Casino. That’s Sam in the pic from the lobby. When in Rome.

Nashville to Shreveport

After 9 hours battling the remnants of Harvey (Nashville news said life threatening, I’d have gone with “a summer’s day in Yorkshire”) and southern drivers  I’m of the distinct opinion that southerners learn to drive by watching NASCAR

1.  the winner is whoever gets closest to the car in front

2. Owning guns makes perfect sense but using turn signals doesn’t

3. The outside lane isn’t for overtaking, it’s for texting

Outside Knoxville

My dad, Sgt. John H. Wilkens, was killed in action with a young guy from Tennessee - PFC Roy Neal. The nice people of Blountville named this bridge on Rte 75 after him. 

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