Getting Outta Dallas
Alright, decided to haul myself from Dallas, TX all the way to Nashville, TN. Felt like tackling the drive solo. First step? Packing the damn car. Threw clothes, snacks, couple water bottles, phone charger, and my trusty old road atlas into the trunk. Seriously underestimated how much junk I actually needed. Kept running back inside for forgotten stuff like my toothbrush and sunglasses. Finally slammed the trunk shut around 8 AM feeling kinda triumphant. Put Dallas in the rearview.
The Long Stretch East
Hopped onto I-30 heading east. Traffic was surprisingly light at first. Cruised past Arlington, that giant Cowboys stadium looking smaller in the distance. Sun was blazing already. Started chewing through my podcasts fast. Made pretty good time hitting Texarkana. Pulled into some random gas station off the interstate. Filled up the tank, grabbed a truly terrible gas station coffee, and choked down a protein bar. Back on the road within 20 minutes. Felt efficient.
Crossed into Arkansas. Man, those pine trees just went on forever. Kept checking my phone GPS, even though I knew I was basically glued to I-30 then I-40. Signs for Little Rock came and went. Hit Memphis by late afternoon. Tennessee welcome sign felt like a mini victory. Took I-40 out of Memphis, heading northeast now. Here’s where it got real.
- Truck Stop Dinner Fiasco: Desperately hungry near Jackson, TN. Saw a big truck stop sign. Went inside dreaming of decent food. Nope. Scored lukewarm fried chicken strips and soggy fries. Ate it anyway, standing by the car because the picnic tables looked grim.
- Bladder vs. Distance: Entertained crazy thoughts like “Maybe I can just hold it till Nashville?” Nope. Pulled off at the next exit, practically running into the rest area bathroom.
- Radio Wasteland: Local stations kept fading in and out. Ended up scanning through static, weird country sermons, and static again. Gave up and put on an audiobook I barely listened to.
Crawling Into Nashville
That last stretch on I-40 towards Nashville felt endless. Traffic started bunching up. Sun was setting hard, blinding me through the windshield. My shoulders were knots, back complaining loudly. Finally saw the damn skyline! Downtown Nashville glowing orange in the twilight. Took exit 209 onto I-24 North. Was officially in the city limits. Found my Airbnb off Charlotte Pike. Killed the engine, sat in the sudden quiet for like 5 whole minutes. Everything just ached.
Grabbed just the essentials out the trunk – backpack, pillow. Shoved the key into the Airbnb lock. Door swung open to blessedly cool air conditioning. Just dropped everything right by the door. Slogged to the kitchen sink, filled a glass with tap water, gulped it down. Peeked out the window. Yeah, Nashville. Made it.
What My Back Remembers
Look, the drive itself isn’t rocket science. Stick to the big interstates, watch your gas gauge, stop when you need to. Easy peasy on a map. But reality? My back still twinges just thinking about it. Should’ve taken more breaks to stretch. Should’ve packed way better snacks. Should’ve booked a massage for after arriving. All those miles add up, especially solo. Respect the distance, man. Respect the goddamn distance. Happy to be here, but my butt is officially on strike.
