The best ride of my life. Day 17, Leg 11 Vanderbilt, Nashville to Knoxville.

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Chatting with Liliana, the wonderful coordinator of the Spanish Dept. I fell in love with the Vanderbilt PhD program. Then I met a couple of professors and I love the vibe. Lisie  Michel, Walnut Hill ’09 being the wonderful, sweet, great girl that she is treated me to a coffee and a tour of the campus, which is beautiful. It was great catching up with her.

After 36 long, boring hours in Nashville I was happy to get out of town.

Now, the ideal time to go on a road trip, as we learn in the classic, highly informative, almost documentary movie Animal House is when one’s situation is desperate, but one is not ready to give up (“Did we give up when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?” Asks John Belushi). A more politically correct way would be in Van Morrison’s words, during a “period of transition”. So there I am, and I am leaving Nashville, after over two weeks on the road, it hits me, what the Greeks call a catharsis, and I am terribly sad about all the changes in my life. An hour out of town I stop at a truck rest area and call my brother Theo in London, and he expertly and on his easy way calms me down. Some chocolate and water, a full tank of gas and I’m recovered for what is the best ride of my life.

About an hour out of Nashville I go off the highway and into the back roads. These are the ancient, rolling hills of Tennessee. Farms, and forests and crops and ponds and valleys and hills. Sometimes I thought I was in Switzerland, others it was very evident I was in rural Tennessee. There was a disproportionate number of bikers on the road, proving that I was on the right road, I did not want it to end. But then I arrived in Knoxville and I fell on love with it! I can’t wait to visit the school tomorrow!

Published by antonioyrocinante

En un lugar de Massachusetts de cuyo nombre no quiero acordarme, no ha mucho tiempo que vivía un maestro de escuela de los de tiza en mano, rotulador rojo, moto flaca, y coche viejo. Una olla de steel cut oats, salpicón las más noches, huevos con bacon los sábados, lantejas los viernes, alguna hamburguesa de añadidura los domingos, consumian las tres partes de su hacienda. Tenía en casa una señora de la limpieza brasileira que venía los lunes, y un vecino paliza que se bebía hasta el agua de regar las plantas. Frisaba la edad de nuestro maestro con los cuarenta y algo; era de complexión recia, seco de carnes, enjuto de rostro, no muy madrugador y nada amigo de la caza. ¹ ¹ Gracias Don Miguel

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