Jeremiah Watt

We are up at the Motel, and all things are packed. Right now I am trying to persuade the clerk down at the desk to send a parcel home foe me in the mail, which would surely make it a lot easier for me.

Its a cool grey sky the hangs overhead as I ride out of Clinton Tennessee. I am actually riding past the Appalachian Museum once again, and let me tell you folks I hit it at the right time, becasue it is already very crwoded in the Museum grounds as I ride past. Its about 10am, and I stop for a cup of coffee to starty the days riding in hte hills that come out past Andersonville. There are even signs warning folks of steep switchbacks ahead, so I know that I am in for some climbing.

I am leaving Andersonville, and the cloud cover is trying to break just a wee bit, and every once in awhile you get a look at the brilliance of the autumn colored leaves. There is a lot of exposed rock jutting out along the ridges and down along the numreous creek banks.

They are not lying about the switch backs, I am in them and they are fair steep I can tell. There are no gradient signs posted on theis entire piece of road, but there are some spray markings on the blacktop that I am wondering about. The paint reads gr10 or some were gr13 and many other numbers in between..........so, I dont know. I felt alot steeper that the 7-9 percents I have encountered before, but I am just not sure. When I got to the top my ol legs were burning good, so I know it was a climb.

Once you top out and ride by the tip of the lake on the other sirde the country gets sorta blah by comparison. Ther place is sparcely populated and not very impressive. I ride on to New Tazewell and find the library where once again I can post text but not pictures. So, I post two days worth and head out. Its is sunny for the most part, but not warm. The bike has not gotten over 54 degrees yet, and I have long pants and a heavier top to ride in.

I am turning due south here at New Tazewell, and I find myself on the road that no biker likes to ride. It is a narrow road under construction, and there is no shoulder once you hit the white line that marks the edge of the road. The shopulder that does remain is full of deep heavy ruts from the construction vehichles using it. So as a rider you are left with pucker up Pray and pedal..............and that is just what I am doing.

Not real sure how many miles i had rode, but it was not real fun, a few good hills to struggle up and no room for mistakes as cars went by without any regard for a cyclist. I was hating the road and spotted a gas station. So I took a turn off the busy road to ask if there may be another route or road that would get me where I was going. It was while I was talking to the fella behind the counter and relaying too him my lament about the current state of the road that I noticed a fellow sorts on the edge of our conversation. I paid little attention to the fact, and got tyhe sad answer that I didn't want........and basicly decided that I would have to tough it out for another 5-6 miles and a least two more good grades, which are mixed with the heaviest construction on the road.

So, away I go and just go to pedalling, Prayin and watching behind me the best that I can. I was climbing the first more seroius grade, and getting quite near the top and also thinking about getting off and walking due to traffic and room..........when VRRooooom. Up pulls a small red Toyota type rig, and a fella with a thick beard and long grey hair pushes his head out the window...................THROW THAT RIG IN THE BACK 'N' IL GIVE Y'ALL A RIDE TO THE ROAD YA WANT...........SAVE YA GETTIN KILLED OUT HERE. It sounded like sage advise to me, and I made a hasty decision to do as suggested. I unhook the bike and heft bike and trailer into the back and start climbing into the back myself...................WHAT THE HECK YA DOIN, GET ON UP HERE BOY, Y'ALL AINT RIDIN BACK THAR. Okay I say, and jump out of the back and climb into the passenger side just as a fresh case of beer is being moved off the front seat. DAVE'S MA NAME, he says and his large hand is extended to me. Its the same fella that was listening in at the Gas Station. THIS AIN'T NO PLACE FOR A FOOL ON A BIKE HE SAYS,his words much more slurred than I am able to relate here. In fact, I look at the beer case again, and can see it is un-opened but the speech is very heavy and slurred, and the eyes are very drowsy as well. The truck is rolling and there is very little that I can do about it all now................mentally, I am thinking that this may have proven to be a very foolish chlice in order tyo avoid a bad traffic scenario.

YA'ALL DONE SHOULDN'T BE ON THAT THAR HIGHWAY, THOSE FOLKS WILL KILL YA UP THATR SON, THIS HERE IS SHINE COUNTRY AND FOLKS WILL BE DRUNK AS #%$@@*& UP THAT THAR WAY. The language with this fella is very coarse and has more cussing in it that words used for conversation............so, if you throw in a serious mouthwashing cuss word every three words that may get close. yA'ALL SHOULD TAKE MY ROAD..............%$# HECK i'LL JUST TAKE YA ON DOWN THERE. sHOOT, THOSE THERE HEATHEREN #@$% ^%$#
SHOULDN'T ALLOW A BIKE OUT HERE. Well I say, all I need is to get off right here Dave, and I will take my chances...........and as I am saying this my road is whizzing by me as I speak. dANG *%&$# i AM SO DRY i CAN'T SPIT says Dave, i DRANK A QUART OF vODKA FER BREAKFAST AN NOW i AM READY FER A %$#@* BEER, HAND ME ONE THEM BEER.............WHAT THE ^$##@ DID YA'ALL SAY YER NAME WAS..........AH *&^*(&%$ NEVER MIND JIST HAND ME A BEER. As soon as I hand it to him, he sorta throws it back at me and says something mostly unaudable to me.............and then a string of cussing comes as we pass a Tennessee Sherriff's car, and a string of cussing fills the cockpit of the red rig. IF HE TURNS ROUND, YA'ALL DRINK THAT THERE BEER.

RIGHT HERE says Dave, RIGHT HERE TIS THE ROAD YA'ALL WANT TO TAKE, THAT OTHER &*$$#@ ROAD WILL GET YA KILLED. YA'ALL NEED A MEAL....................HELL YAH YA NEED A MEAL, never waiting for me to reply. YA'ALL NEED TO MEET MY OLD WOMEN.....SHE'S A GOODERN, THIRD %#@@* TRY SHOULD BE A GOODERN he says. YEAH, I THINK THAT i BETTER FEED YA SOME %#@@*& FOOD BEFORE i TURN YA LOOSE, LETS GO TA THE HOUSE AND SEE THAT HEATHEREN &%$##@ BOY OF MINE...........THEN I WILL FEED YA SOME GROUN HOG..........MY GOLDY, SHE MAKES THE &%$$#@ BEST GROUND *&%$# HOG YA EVER ET. All the while, I am trying to aswer but realize that Dave is too far gone to be cognizant of much of what is sayed. We make a hard left off the very narrow road of hows number I have clue, and we are on a very poorly kept vertical gravel road/trail. The red rig, and Dave, now drinking his second beer since we left the main road some 5 miles back is just barely at the weel. I can catch parts of the conversation, as he relates his Vietnam time to me, and the Agent Orange issues are working there way into it all, the wife Goldy may well be the fifth of sixth not the third as he had once sort'a said. We arrive at the top narrow neck of the "holler" that has a single wide sitting at the top at an angle and postion that seem to defy gravity and common sense..................but then, I stop and think of my new chauffer Dave and realize it looks just like Daves very scrambled thinking.

RAT *&%%#@ HERE BE HOME BOY, LETS SEE WHAT THE %$##@ THOSE HEATHERN ARE'A DOIN. Dave exits the rig, and stamps real hard on the stairs leading inot the trailer house................smiles, ............turns towards me and says...........JIST NEVER *&%%$# KNOW WHO OL GOLDY MAY HAVE &%$$#@ VITED OVER TO KEEP TYHE HOUSE WARM. There is a little time lapse, and finally a voice calls Dave on in................just Dave not me..........I stand out side with 4-5 dogs checking out my leg length and the smell of my fingers..............hair is up, and teeth just barely show below a raised lip on one. And then the door cracks again as a small boy comes out, very reserved and looking at me....................in my attempts to speak to him I get no reply at all.............and this goes on for a few minutes. Then he asks if 'thet there bycicle be mine or Daves bycicle".........so I tell him it is mine and the boy just turns and leaves me standing out side by myself once more. Several more minutes go by, my hyena friends are back sizing me up.............when the door cracks and the boy says "Ya'all shude come on in har".

NOw folks, I will tell you that this is a classic paradox , my friend dave cant say three words without a serious cuss word............and his cussin is clearer than his spoken words. He goes on about his heathern wife and kid. I know from the conversation that he has anothre wife just down the road and also a daughter with that wife.......and I won't waste my time with his describing them. SO I enter the trailer, all the lights out, and hte noise on the TV is a noise I have heard before.............and it is on to the very top of the volume setting............i am greeted by a women laying on the couch smoking a cigarette and the boy sitting beside her. I extend my hand towards the women and tell her my name is Jeremiah.................she never moves nor acknowledges me.......just goes on smoking and talking sorta yelling at Dave. The boy watches me closely, the women just smokes and talks loud to Dave. The TV is playing the Jesus Movie, the conversation is filled with more cuss words than real words and I am now sitting at what room I could make at Daves kitchen table/gunshop/small engine repair shop. Folks, I am casught in a culture warp, and wondering what possesed me to make the choice I had made.

Dave is wanting to make me some supper, and all the time I am telling him that I am just fine all I need to to get on the road and ride. I do bnot dare to tell him I want to ride before it gets dark....fearing that he may decide I should stay the night. YA'LL NEED A GOOD %##@ SOUP...............i KNOWS JIST THE KINF DO AS HE DIGS OUT A B&W LABEL CANNED PORK MEAT............ and I just know its all knuckles, lips and buttholes. Then Dave digs out a can of Corn..........and the phone rings..........the boy named Chancey hands to phone to Dave who is now on his second beer since getting home and smoking a cigarette with a load of ash............Dave holds the phone upsdie down and turns the water on in the sink.........................the conversation ensues between Dave and his last wife whom he hates, its easy to tell by the conversation. Its at one point during the conversation, he says that he is washing some disshes to feed a fellow some supper..............he picks up one single fork that had been set in the sink since who knows when and swishes it about under the water for a bit................then with smoke rising heavily up into his eyes he takes adrink of beer and removes the cigarette to carefully point the ash of the cigarette on the blade of the fork he was washing and replace it in his parched lips as he found his beer and finished the conversation in a very gruff tone. BOY, GIMME ANOTHER BEER, I A FIXIN THIS HERE FELLA A SAM'MICH. N' BOY, GIMME SOME HO'PEPPERS FRUM THE WIND'A ...............WHRES MA CIGARETTES BOY. And Chancey was scurrying for each item. I sat frozen, locked in on the conversation and tones of the room, as different oparties related to one anothter and Jesus played as a back drop for it all.............the boy Chancey is attached to both the movie and the reality of his home. He is teasing Dave about being drunk, and Goldy is trying to shut that down, and tell dave that the pork meat is buring on the stove......and Dave insisting that what I need ias a good warm sammich............and I am huntingh a hole to crawl out off.

Finally the pork meat is stuck fast, and I am invited to come on up and fix it for myself...........all there is for me to see is a can of pork meat emptied into a pot and burned to the bottom and I am supposed to make a meal of it............Boy Howdy, I am struggling here. Chance brings me a loaf of bread, and i commence to building the best "ROAST PORK" sammich I can. Chancey brings me some mustard, and I slather some on and then he hands me the Peppers from the window. I sat and ate a hefty pork sammich while Dave drank.......INHAILED.......... another beer. I am ready to get out, the clouds have filled the sky with dark clouds of rain, and have no idea where I really am. JOSHUA,SAYS DAVE, IAM GONNA TAKE YA TO THE BIG CREEK BRIDGE...........THET'LL BE FUN............YA WANNA GO WITH ME LIL'UN. And Chancey is game for this, I have no idea what is up. Now it s Daves turn to take in a couple of sammiches, and he is enjoying the food .........munch munch , smack smack alot, let me tell ya folks.......... alot. GIMME A BEER FER THE ROAD BOY SAYS DAVE. We all make our way to the red rig, and Dave produces a belly pistol, waving it about the truck cab, and proclaims to be a real good shot with it.............the conversation takes a dark turn with gun in hand as dave talks about various things from the past. Chancey and I just sit, quite.

We are now rolling, and back to the main road once again, at least the main troad to daves holler. AS we go, I am trying to find out just where we are, and where I am going compared to where I was wanting to go. Dave takes a hard fast left at the main blacktop, which is so narrow it doesn't even have a dividing line on it. We rip up the road towards some place called Big Creek. WE GONNA GET US A DEER LIL'UN AND EAT HIGH TA'NITE EH LIL'UN........dave waves the belly gun out the window and calls to the Bambi's. The boy wants to drive, and Dave is now considering as he suggestes we should not hit the ditch nor a telephone pole like last time you drove says dave. I am wishing I could just get out and crawl.............even roll a peanut any think but ride in here.........and whre is Big Creek I wonder to myself. WOW..............LOOKY THERE SAYS DAVE, THAT THERE UN'S ON THIS SIDE TO...........the red rig swerves hard at a 400 pond calf that stands just inside the wire fence by the side of the road........blades of grass fly over my mirror, and you can here dirt hitting the floor of the red rig as Dave makes a move to correct the carrening vehichle. %$##@* NEAR HAD US SOME BEEF LIL'UN, THAT THAR %$#@@#@ CALF WAS JIS PERFECT FUR A *&%$$#@ COOK POT...........*&^&%%$# THAT WIRE FENCE, WAS IT THERE LAS TIME LIL'UN.

I find out that I am on a road that leads to Sneedville, which is a town that I was wanting to get to on this day. And after several lurches and quirks in the driving Dave has arrived at a bridge over BIg River. He points strait ahead as I unload my bike, tells me that right up there is Sneedville.................BUT BE CAREFUL SON, THAT THER BE RED NECK TOWN................THEY'LL SHOOT A MAN EASY LIKE. GET IN LIL'UN WE GONNA FIND US A DEER TO BRING HOME TA GOLDY..................TAKE CARE YER SELF JOSHUA AND COME ON BACK UP THE HOLLER SUM TIME........ the roaring red rig does a sharp U-TURN and tailights dissappear into the nite, blue smoke streaming from the drivers window as he waves one last time...............and he is gone. So, how close to hell had I been.........I don't really know. I never got hurt, just worried, Dave done me no wrong, but it could have gone really bad at almost any point becasue Dave had so much to drink. SO, thanks ed the LOrd for once again watching out over a fool...........and as I rode in the cool of the night, I was wondering if that was something that the Lord had really wanted me to see. The other side of another man's life.?

I am riding along a river now, it is very cool and Sneedville is 12 miles according to the sign. So I turn on every tail ight and make for town. I arrive, it is real cool, and it will surely freeze tonight I think. I find a place under a parge Pine tree and beside a Chruch. I make camp, and have a simple supper.
Good Night and God Bless