Two breakfasts, two wrong turns, and too many Route 70s

Created on Wednesday, 13 October 2010 04:15

Published on Wednesday, 13 October 2010 04:15

Written by Randy Garbin

Rough Draft Roadtrip, Third day

Gotta keep it short tonight. I got in late, and after two pints of McSorley’s at the Bull and Whistle and 300 miles, 100 of it in the driving rain, I haven’t got much left.

Best part of the day took place this morning anyway. I checked out of the Crest Motel, but I didn’t get the best night’s sleep. I found the room clean and recently renovated, but I also had company. I saw one roach. Killed it, and then didn’t want to turn out the light. Hey, these things happen, I know. My first apartment in Boston had its share of them. I even found one in my beard one morning. My roommate found one in his cereal, but it made him so angry that he ate the cereal anyway. Well, I’ve slept in worse places.

I stopped for breakfast at the striking Burger Bar in Bristol, Tennesee and had an excellent, perfectly made veggie omelet. I also had grits for maybe the first or second time. I always avoided grits because it reminded me of cream of wheat, but it tastes more like a liquid corn bread. I didn’t mind it, but I won’t rush to order it again. My conversation with the kids behind the counter revealed that the diner had closed for about six months after over 60 years of continuous operation. Not long ago, a local restaurateur bought it, fixed it up, and is apparently experimenting with the idea of franchising it. That news sank my spirit a bit, but the kids also told me about the “other” breakfast place in town, the Sunny Side Up Café. Had to give that a try too, so I went easy on the harried waitress and ordered only a bowl of granola and a coffee. Two breakfasts in one day is enough, thanks. Oh, and they had corned beef hash on the menu, but at $1.75 there was no way they made it themselves.

I didn’t leave Bristol before it left me with an extremely positive first impression. The downtown is lousy with neon and charm, but it still needs some business — at least as compared to its glory days. Just drive a few miles to the south, and you’ll quickly see where all the life went. Bristol, of course, is home to the Bristol Motor Speedway, a gargantuan temple to that which is NASCAR. Look at the map and it becomes apparent that the state built, rebuilt, and expanded the road network that feeds this beast. It’s otherworldly. Just south of the speedway, I spotted a mansion sitting atop a hill rising over Route 11E that I would bet my breakfast belonged to someone connected to that spectacle.

Speaking strictly from a Roadside perspective, I didn’t see much Roadside-​related attractions. Saw quite a few old theaters again, about half still in operation. You don’t see this in the Northeast nearly as much. For some reason, despite the rampant spread of sprawl here in the South, the towns have managed to successfully mothball their architecture. I don’t know if they think of it this way, but I saw much less urban renewal than I typically see in the Northeast. When you do this, you give your downtown a fighting chance at least.

Knoxville also surprised me with its very active entertainment district. Here I finally found a brewpub, the Downtown Grill and Brewery, which served up a good nut brown ale and a spicy Mexican bean soup. To be sure, mainstream retail left ages ago, and in Knoxville at least, it made a mass exodus west along Route 70. The retail sprawl made for a drive so brutal, I had to abandon the road for the Interstate just to feel some sense of momentum. Up until that point, I saw my share, of course, but Knoxville has plastered its landscape with the drieriest development I’ve so far seen.

Other towns and sights of note: When Route 70 separates from Route 27 south of Rockwood, it quickly climbs up Mount Roosevelt and stays atop the Cumberland Plateau for another 60 miles. This is quarry country, and the big holes in the ground produce Tennessee flagstone, and I think every building in Crossville was built with it. No wonder. It’s beautiful.

Gotta love the little town of Sparta and its series of squares just off Route 70, one of which has the spectacular Oldham Theater. Tucked away just around the corner, though, is the Sparta Grill, a tiny luncheonette that surely has a few stories to tell. Closed when I saw it.

Shooting up north from Sparta, I thought maybe the ride would prove more interesting on Route 70N. At Crossville, it splits, and once again, the map presented one of those agonizing choices. Which way to go? Take 70 or 70N? Figuring first that 70N qualified as an alternate route and therefore probably less interesting and thinking that 70 must be the original road and therefore present more attractions. A second look at the map after I pulled away from Sparta showed me that the larger towns lie along 70N, so I detoured north. Still care?

Well, west from Sparta, the road looked like Nebraska — nothing but farms. Cookeville was to be my original stopping point, but having made such great time, I decided to forge on to Lebanon. In doing so, I ran right into a heavy thunderstorms, but I also drove along one of the more amazing roads I’ve ever traveled. From Baxter to Carthage, the road rides atop some of the wildest topography in the country. Nothing but twists and turns, and great views, which the rain only obscured. Lots of kudzu as well. In fact, you’ll see entire hillsides carpeted with it… an eerie sight.

That last part drained any desire to explore, so it was back to the interstate and a good cheap motel. Econolodge fits that bill at $38/​night. Dinner at the Bull and Whistle in Lebanon, which just might be the only decent bar in town, not that you’d know that unless you really looked for it. Look it up when you pass through. You’ll be glad you did.

A note about motels: I have some definite thoughts on the subject. When I started Roadside, we almost always stopped in chain motel/​hotels because of their ubiquity and general consistency. Later, I changed my tune and sought out more and more independents. Fifteen years ago, finding good, classic motels often required a lot of patience and a not a bit of bravery, but even in non-​touristy areas, you could find them. Finding a good one often proved a tricky prospect, though. One motel in Westfield, New York looked promising as it was attached to a drive in theater, but it turned out to be a flop house extraordinaire. I’m amazed I got any sleep in the place. Found out a few months later that the police raided it.

While I know it depends on where you might be looking, the demise of the reputable indendent motel seems to have continued at a precipitous rate. Anyone who decides to follow in my tiretracks will soon have little choice but the Econolodges. And who in their right mind would want to open up their own motel? At least with a diner, you see a lot of people for only a little while. In the hotel business you see relatively few, but they stick around, and you have to clean up after them and the things they may do in the privacy of your rooms. Who wants to deal with that?

Tomorrow, the main event. John and I will have lunch somewhere in Nashville.