We left Springfield, Missouri in the midst of freezing rain and slight showers and headed to the heart of the Southland. The home of soul, the home of Elvis (no we didn't see him, and yes he is really dead, sorry.)
Before we left Springfield we stopped at the biggest Bass Pro Shop I have ever seen in my life. The inside was made to look as if you were a fish underwater, then you crossed a wooden bridge and looked at a hiker running from a bear with a panther on their tail. It was truly amazing. The store was the size of the whole Savannah mall. Impressive and highly recommended. Since we had decided to go low budget on this trip, we have made do with light meals. Breakfast at the hotels. Lunch was made up of Peanut Butter and honey sandwiches or camping meals similar to MRE's that you add water to. We decided to restock our supplies while we were there. Several days along the trip we heated water in a mug plugged into the cigarette lighter in the car and ate while we drove to save time. I recommend any of the Mountain House brand except the sweet and sour pork!
On our visiting Springfield we heard about a drive-thru size cave and decided to check it out. Fantastic Caverns proved to be worth the drive. Twenty minutes into the countryside and I wasn't sure it was worth it, but it was. Turns out it is one of four drive-thru caves in the world, and the only one in North America (for all you trivia buffs). As the guide drove our jeep deep into the hole, he told legends about the cave being used as a speakeasy during prohibition to holding vigilante groups into the 1960's. No names were mentioned, but they wore white hoods. I'll let you figure that one out. The history brought prickles up the back of your neck. My favorite part was when one visitor asked if there were bats in the cave. The smart witted guide said, "why sure, but she got off on the last tour".
We crossed the mighty Mississippi river just as the sun had set, grateful that the days were longer closer to the equator. We cruised Beale street, rolling down our windows to listen to the jazz as it played through the air. The neighborhood reminded us of downtown Savannah, with ghetto all around. The only difference was the music, the spirit of soul. The sound of guitars and drums wafted out of bars as we drove. Slow and smooth it played, unlike the big Cutlass Supreme's with 16" rims blasting out a tuneless thump as they cruised by. They say this is where Elvis got his start, listening to blues. The music in Memphis was an art, not fitting any mold but it's own, pulsing to the beat of neon lights.
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