Day 6: December 26, 2011
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As we were preparing to leave, Big Daddy Ginger announced that he wasn't going. Travel has been hard on the big fellow; So hard, in fact, that he asked me to use an earlier photo rather than take a new one. By staying in Nashville, he will be able to help Billy Hank as well as provide a home for a couple of the youngest Gingers who have sort of attached themselves to him.

My path toward home took me right by the Grand Ole Opry House so I stopped for a look. I've attended the Opry twice but both were during the show's winter return to its original home at the Ryman Theater.

I also drove right by the big Opryland complex. I've stayed at the big hotel there once though doubt I will again. Other attractions are right across the street. For me, the real Nashville is back there on Broadway and this area is sort of a "Disneyland Nashville" but it no doubt goes well with a certain wine.

In theory, the Jackson Highway, which I started this trip on, reached from Chicago to New Orleans but its best known section is the one that connected Louisville with the home of the highway's namesake, Nashville. This seemed the perfect time to follow the highway north to where I left it on Thursday. TN-155 provided an almost direct path from my motel near the airport to the point where the highway's current manifestation, US-31E, separates from the multiplexed expressway and heads north. Even northbound is busy divided four-lane for some distance but southbound US-31E is now all expressway and I have no idea of the course the original Jackson Highway followed to downtown Nashville.

Once free of the congestion of Nashville and its surroundings, the road is a very pleasant drive although there isn't a lot to see. In Glascow, Kentucky, signs pointed to the Historic Plaza Theater just a half block off of the town square. I parked across the street and, after reading the informative sign, really wanted to see inside. The sign compares the theater's "unspectacular exterior" with the awe inspiring "beauty and uniqueness of the interior". The exterior may not be spectacular but it was rather interesting and I was definitely psyched about that interior. But the theater was closed and a sign said it only opened shortly before actual performances. A sign at the ticket office hinted that it might be open today but was closed from 12:00 to 1:00 for lunch. I pressed my cameras to the door for a blurry shot of the lobby then, disappointed, headed off.

It was about a quarter to 1:00 and I thought hanging around for awhile made sense. There was a place on the square called George J's and a look through the window pulled me in for lunch. There were a couple of groups eating in the large area filled with tables and chairs but I had the entire counter, of which less than half is in the picture, to myself. A table near the rear of the counter was surrounded by extra comfortable chairs and, just in case there was any doubt, the area was identified by letters on the wall. I dined on a two-cheese grilled cheese sandwich with the optional ham and iced tea for less than $8. Sadly, no liars were present and, even sadder, the Plaza office remained closed at 1:30.

I returned to somewhat familiar territory less than ten miles out of Glascow. Not too many years ago, a restaurant was operating in this building at the crossroads known as Cridersville. The stone tower is solid and the other buildings look OK so it' conceivable that business could reappear but it doesn't look likely. The abandoned and partially fenced in pavement is just north of the stone tower. I assume it was once the Jackson Highway and/or US-31E. I either missed seeing it before or forgot that I did. Either is quite possible.

The last picture is back at the Wigwam General Store where I again refueled. Something that I have actually noticed before is that the vast majority of signs decorating the front of the building advertise tobacco products. I don't know the current statistics but tobacco remains an important crop in these parts. This is not only the Jackson's closest approach to the Dixie, it is its closest approach to I-65 which I headed home on.

Pure numbers are what kept Gabriella Ginger (her friends call her GG) and her little sister with me to the end. "Use the bathroom and get ready for bed," I told them. "You're going home first thing in the morning."

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