We interspersed the moving activities with trips to a bar with a couple of other girls. On one of these visits, we had the
Megan's drama-attracting roommate: "So, what are you guys doing tomorrow?"
Redneck guy: "Goin' frog-giggin'!"
Me: [whispers] "WTF is frog...gigging?"
Megan: [whispers] "Hunting frogs with a trident/spear thingy."
Me: "PEOPLE ACTUALLY DO THAT????" *head explodes*
I don't think I ever expected Tennessee to be quite *THAT* Southern...
The new house proved to be quite exciting, because it came with dogs. This is Charlie, who was convinced he was a lapdog, despite being an enormous Labrador:
Somewhere in amongst the moving and the learning about weird Southern things, we headed up to Nashville and visited Opryland. I'm sure it was interesting, but I honestly don't remember a thing about it!
Just after 4th of July, Megan and I loaded up her car with a whole lot of junk food and hit the road, heading for Memphis. After about an hour on the road, we heard a noise that sounded like a helicopter coming up behind the car. And then the car started acting weird.
We pulled over to the side of the interstate, and promptly discovered that one of the tyres had a giant nail in it. Megan was wearing a skirt, which is how I (the least car-savvy person on the planet) ended up laying on the interstate, trying to work out where under the car a jack is supposed to go. We soon came across another problem. The car had been serviced a few days before our roadtrip, and they'd rotated the tyres. And put the hub caps back on with the pneumatic wrench thingy. Which meant that we couldn't even BUDGE the lug nuts (as further proof of my cluelessness about cars, I just had to Google the names of ALL those things).
|File under "things that could change a tyre better than me". Also, source.|
So Megan was trying to get the spare tyre out of the boot, and I was laying in the road. And that's about the time that a truck driver stopped to help us. Apparently all the passing truck drivers had been talking about us on the CB radio. Awesome... Anyway, random truck driver man was able to change the tyre for us (and also inform me that I had the jack in completely the wrong place. FAIL...) But Megan's car only had a space saver spare, which meant we had to drive super-slow. And which meant we got to drive to the next exit, and sit around a garage for 45 minutes waiting for the mechanic to come back. At which point, he told us that he didn't have the right sized tyre. So we had to keep driving until we reached Jackson.
Eventually, we found a place in Jackson that had a tyre the right size, and after sitting around for an hour so it could be changed, we were on the road to Memphis again. We got there at around 3pm, having left the house at 7.45am. Yeah. A 400km drive took us over seven hours...
Oh, and the best part of the flat tyre story? When I told my mum, she totally freaked out because all she could think of was Duelling Banjos. Sorry, Tennessee...
Next up, touristy things in Memphis. Including Graceland, the tackiest place on Earth!
So, who else can't change a tyre? And have you ever been frog gigging? If so, WHY?????