March 10, 2007: Memphis, Tennessee.

We are heading west quickly and have stopped at this spot where they say the Mississippi shines like a national guitar. It's a mostly bleak place with a few bright spots, one of which is Jim Neely's Interstate Barbeque. The hands-down best barbeque either of us have had is located in a rather ghetto-ish part of town that our trusty Let's Go! led us to. We got a few props on the Vino scooter on the way there.

Graceland. Snore.











The hotel where MLK was assassinated on the balcony has been turned into the National Civil Rights Museum, which is a much better exhibit than what they do in Atlanta. It's controversial though, since it has turned this otherwise historically tragic spot into a tourist trap. There's a woman who has camped outside here for 19 years in protest. We sympathize, but we still had to get our photo.


Beale Street, the self-proclaimed Home of the Blues and Birthplace of Rock & Roll, is a little like Lake Havasu during spring break, but with live blues coming from every bar and fewer bikinis. We got drinks from one of the many Beers-To-Go kiosks and sat on the curb to marvel at the debauchery.