Day Twenty-six - Fort Worth to Memphis

Getting out of Texas--In four letters: h-e-l-l

We got up at the crack of dawn (well, it was raining so hard nobody could tell it was dawn, but we had a long way to go, so we were on the road before seven.)  Interstate 30 east from Fort Worth should be a piece of cake.  OK, there'd be a lot of traffic, but we could live with that.  But, first of all a monsoon was in progress, so it was hard to see.  Secondly, Michelle--our GPS voice--who is dumber than box of hammers anyway, didn't know that the fine people of Texas had torn I-30 all to hell along with most of their roads, including changing right-lane exits to left-lane ones and vice-versa, leading Michelle to insist we exit right and keep left, which caused us to find ourselves on the President George Bush Highway, well-named as an expensive but useless road to where no one wants to go.  We tried finding our way back, but the storm caused Michelle to have breakdowns and call for rights and lefts at places no intersections existed, and attempt to send us back to where we had programmed her three days ago.  Mary Frances finally found a route on the atlas that might help, and we circled over the top of Dallas, ultimate rejoining I-30, two and a half hours later.

From Fort Worth to Arlington wasn't bad, even in the foul weather, but
soon afterward everything went to hell and Michelle was no help at all.

The President George Bush Highway is a toll road (aka reverse tax) which
seems to pick fees out of a hat.

Ultimately, we escaped the PGwB Highway, and followed the Beltway to Route 78.  When we finally re-linked with I-30 we still had a hundred forty miles to get out of Texas, which we desperately wanted to do by then. 

Not only were we happy to see this sign, but the weather cleared up
almost immediately.

OK, we were running late.  But, on the other hand, we're presidential library mavens and one of them exists right along the route we were traveling.  So we got off the highway in Little Rock to visit the William J. Clinton Museum and Library:

The exterior of the Clinton Library in Little Rock.  If I had looked more
closely at that big banner on the front I might have been tempted to drive on.

They were featuring a Dale Chihuly exhibit!  If you're not familiar with Chihuly, he's a glassblower artist who appeals to some and makes others upchuck.  Former:  Mary Frances.  Latter:  Her husband.  In the geographic center of the Mohegan Sun casino stands one of his monstrosities.

 For my bride's sake, here are some of the objects on display:

I think I really need this one for my blue collection, but I heard someone say in the gift shop that a small plate was $7,000!!  Guess I'll just look at the picture.  MFH

Mary Frances next to a Chihuly in an overflow fountain very like one
we saw at a private residence in Coronado, California, last week.

Thank goodness, there was also a presidential library there.  It seemed sparse at first, but the more we walked about the three floors, the more interesting it became.  All the libraries of recent presidents are primarily trying to present a point of view and sell the individual, but this one seemed a bit more honest about the difficult aspects than Reagan's, which was gee-golly start to finish.

Mary Frances next to a pictorial of the Clinton years.

A display for each year in office.  The white rectangle bottom center
is the twelve monthly notebooks with the President's daily schedules.

We left the William J. Clinton Presidential Library and continued on Route 40 (I-30 had given way to I-40 back in Benton.)  The picture below represents what 80% of Arkansas looks like when crossing on I-30/40:

Mostly, until nearing Tennessee, some very nice roads with little construction,
and trees lining both sides of the highway.  Hard to keep down to the 70 MPH limit.

OK, the people who run Chik-Fil-A are disgusting religious bigots,
but their ad agency is first class.

We finally crossed the Mississippi.  But whoever designed the bridge across it decided we don't deserve to actually see it, and built a fence to eye level. 

Trust us, that's the Mississippi River down there.

Finally, Tennessee.  A short while later we were ensconced at a Fairfield Inn south of the city.

 And found some dinner nearby:

We had planned to go to Atlanta tomorrow, but have made a few revisions, and it looks like Knoxville, instead.  Home is looking better and better.