Riding in Memphis

The drive from New Orleans to Memphis was stellar until around 30 miles south of my destination. Pulling off the interstate to get some gas Gus stalled out in 3rd, which never happens. Got him restarted only to stall out again pulling into the gas station. The carburetor that my mechanic in Austin had warned me about had finally blown. Luckily I was able to get started again and made it into Memphis.

I knew going into this trip that there were going to be some points along the way where I would have to stop and make some major repairs, I was just hoping that they wouldn't cost me $1200!

With no vehicle I would be traveling by bike, a fixed-gear bottom of the line road bike with no shocks, that I got on the cheap in Austin. In Memphis, paved roads that are free from cracks, pot-holes, and the occasional used syringe are a luxury. On my first day I rode over 20 miles through some extremely shady neighborhoods, at one point getting out of the saddle and pumping my wiry legs as hard as I could to avoid the wild-eyed man who would have supplied me with my first mugging, no doubt.

Memphis drivers hated me. Throughout my entire time in the city I didn't come across a single bike lane. There weren't even shoulders to the ridiculously narrow lanes. There is a three-foot law in Tennessee that states that a driver can only be ticketed if he/she comes within three feet of striking a pedestrian. Most drivers protested this law by aiming their side-view mirrors at my handle bars. With horns blazing they made it very clear how they felt about me hugging the curb for dear life, legs burning, holding my breath in anticipation of the first impact. I scraped through the streets long enough to make it to Restaurant Iris, avoiding my demise by inches on countless occasions...