Those Were the Days of Miracle and Wonder

On a late spring Friday in 1991, Amanda and I were driving along I-25 just north of Denver on our way to lunch. I'd just graduated from the University of Colorado and Amanda and I had just moved into separate apartments after several years of being roommates. We were tired , restless, and looking for something interesting to do. And we were listening to Paul Simon's "Graceland".

I don't know how it happened, exactly, but one of us must have said to the other, "You know, I've always wanted to see Graceland" and the other must have replied, "Hey, me too...."

Within three hours, we were on I-70 heading east bound out of Denver. We had a stack of cassette tapes (including Graceland, of course), a stash of Diet Pepsi and Camel Lights, and our credit cards. We bought a map along the way.

Saturday morning, after driving around lost in Kansas City, we made a phone call (in part, to get directions) and surprised Grandma and Jake for breakfast. A few hours later, we stopped in on my aunt and uncle in St. Louis.

Sunday morning, we were off again. We drove through Illinois (the Land of Lincoln!) and into Kentucky, where we made a brief stop for BBQ (try the BBQ; trust me.) It got dark but we were getting closer to Memphis. Then the rain started. It poured rain, absolutely torrential rain. But we had Elvis Presley's Golden Hits in the cassette player. All was right with the world.

Money was tight so we looked for the first cheap motel we could find. $15 bucks a night on the periphery of Memphis--sold! This place was like something out of a David Lynch film and when the shouting and door pounding started sometime after midnight, we just prayed they didn't know we were occupying room 4.

Monday morning arrived--and not a minute too soon--and we were out the door of the No-Tell Motel, and the first in line for the 9am tour of Graceland! It was everything we'd dreamed it would be, in all its tacky, kitschy glory. What struck us most was the Jungle Room. Every house should have a Jungle Room.

Ahhhhhh. There just aren't enough words to describe it all.

After our tour, we stopped in at one of the many Elvis gift shops in the area to stock up on unnecessary plastic items, and then it was time to decide on our next move. New Orleans! I'd been there once before a few years earlier, and we were close (it's all relative), so what the hell?

Back into my little Civic hatchback, and we were southbound. We made a straight shot down Highway 98 through Mississippi and that evening we were on Bourbon Street, drinking Hurricanes, and toasting ourselves for a trip well conceived and executed. We spent a few days eating up New Orleans (literally and figuratively...) and met all sorts of characters along the way, including a bartender in our hotel who was convinced Amanda would be getting married in New Orleans. She still hasn't, but it is still a possibility.

I miss those day but both of our lives have changed. We both have mortgages and significant others, limited vacation time and less patience for sitting in a hot car for 10 hours at a stretch. You know how it goes. But we do have great memories of this trip and the other road trips we did together, including our lunch date in Taos, a two week trip to see as many Paul Bunyons as we could throughout the Pacific Northwest, and the midnight drive to Dallas that lead to meeting Nigel.... But those are stories perhaps for another time.

For reasons I cannot explain
There's some part of me wants to see
Graceland
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now
Maybe I've a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland....