Road Trip

I'm getting older but not up
My metabolic rate is pleasantly blocked
Let the winds of time blow over my head
I'd rather die while I'm living than live while I'm dead (Jimmy Buffett)

Buffett was playing as I drove down the road to seventy miles per hour. I was my road trip to the Middle Age, somewhere between the line of North Carolina and Nashville. The last time I had taken this route was in 2001, just before going to live in Japan. It is now four years later, and I realize that have not grown much.

My boyfriend. Almost twice her age. It 's almost double. I, I'm a middle-aged guy who still loves cheap hotels, country music, driving the road with my radio blasting. It may not be the head-banger music, but rhythm, and soul, and a touch of southern twang.

The last time I took this trip, I called my old friend Brent in Nashville, and we met for some bluegrass at The Station Inn as we always have. Brent is one of those guys who went to Nashville after college and has not left. He even managed to make a few dollars, and has continued to make his life outside the music business. When one considers the number of talented people come and go every year in Nashville, is a living miracle. A middle-aged man who makes his living in the music business. Dang.

This time, I called Brent. I did not have his number and I had a full program, and was not sure he had time. Then, suddenly, while the purchase of postcards to Elvis Ryman Auditorium during intermission of the concert by Bela Fleck, who is coming and I pinched his ass, but my old friend Brent.

We've known for so long (more than 30 years) that was not caught in a pinch on my back (although sad that it was a hot Nashville singer with a penchant for young, middle-aged). We had not seen each other in almost four years, then we are back in the old days.

He is one of my only friends that I still keep in contact with which was to Coffee County, Alabama. He is one of the few people I know that I can still talk about FFA String Band competitions and land judging contests, and knows exactly what I mean. He is one of those guys who grew older than me, but not necessarily high.

Brent and I did what I normally do when they meet. We ate, we talked of old times and new times, and also the future. Then we went our separate directions for another long period. Note to self: keep in touch this time.

The other part of this road trip that was important was my trip to Graceland. Every South must make the pilgrimage once in their lives just to get in touch with their roots. (Some of us were a second time for good measure.)

No matter whether one likes it or not Elvis, is a part of us. If we grew up listening to rock and roll, Elvis must thank. If you never shed a tear in a gospel song, Elvis has contributed to this. If we danced stupid in public and not feel self-conscious, Elvis came before us.

Some facts I learned from this road trip:

1) I am a southerner, and will always be different because of it.
2) Music goes to the core of my being and my soul is just a bit 'lower down than others are willing to admit.
3) There's nothing like the open road to clear your head (and $ 2.25 per gallon gas portfolio too clear)