Motorcycle Mojo – July 2019

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48 MOTORCYCLE MOJO JULY 2019

percussion of a woodpecker. The


unmistakable whistling of an elk


rounded out the opus. In Port Gibson


for my morning coffee and fuel, I found


myself immersed in southern black cul-


ture. The matronly woman behind the


counter said, “What you want, baby?”


and “Yo change is 45 cints, baby.” And


when three loitering older men began to


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they all seemed to know), she said to


me with a smirk, “Ah ’pologize fo’ de


reg’lars.”


North of Jackson, dark clouds began


to threaten, so I pulled over to button,


zip and Velcro every opening in my


gear. Almost immediately, however,


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ankles. At Jeff Busby Campground, the


second free campground on the Trace,


I called it a day. The tropical storm had


caught up with me and I hunkered into


my bivy to wait it out.


I awoke to a misty, overcast morning,


concerned that the storm in the Gulf of


Mexico may be following me north. But


by 10 o’clock, the sun was shining and


cotton puffs adorned a bright blue sky. I


put on my walking shoes and strapped


the wet boots on top of my luggage,


tongues to the wind, and by afternoon


they were completely dry.


A Rich Musical History


At Tupelo, I veered off the Trace to visit


the boyhood home of Elvis Presley.


A museum stands between the house


and the (relocated) church where Elvis


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I also dropped into Tupelo Hardware,


which continues to operate much as it


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Farther north, the Trace cuts through


a corner of Alabama and I detoured


again, this time to Tuscumbia, the birth






place of Helen Keller. It was inspiring to


hear in detail how this amazing young


woman overcame incredible disabilities


and obstacles. Before I left town, I also


had to visit the Alabama Music Hall


of Fame. The list of talent is striking,


from Emmylou Harris to Lionel Richie


to Tommy Shaw of Styx. It was too late


in the day to visit the famous studios


in Muscle Shoals, but I began to hum


the tunes of artists who recorded there,


Louisiana canals are straight, maintained, and named just like ordinary streets, but make sure to give the locals all the room they need.

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