Graceland! Memphis, Tennessee

First let me tell you about the first mechanical trouble that has made us pause since we started the trip.

On the morning we left New Orleans, we both noticed that the door handle on the Yukon Ho was, well, floppy. Whatever. We locked it, jiggled the handle, and were on our way.


About an hour later we stopped for gas and I got out of the truck to see Mark over by the Boler with the door open, looking at me. I was all like "what?" and he said the door was open like that when he found it! After driving on the highway!! WITH MY BELONGINGS INSIDE!!

It took us two tries to rig up bungie cords to hold the door closed. We found an RV Superstore after about another hour of driving. The guy at the RV place was one of those personable, high-energy go-getter types that made me exhausted just watching him. I mean, he would run, not walk, to get a tool out of the shop.


Mark and Trevor (the nice RV guy) had to drill through the rivets holding the door handle, hacksaw the inside handle off, THEN hacksaw the outside handle off because the handle assembly still wouldn't come off. They then had to try two different types of new handles and tool out a custom metal plate to rest it all on. It was tricky because the original handle is over 30 years old and there's nothing even near equivalent out there. Also, the Boler door is curved, not flat, and made of two layers of fiberglass with an inaccessible air pocket in between that cannot be filled in for reinforcement.

ANYWAY.

After five (count 'em, five) hours at the RV Superstore in the middle of Mississippi, we have a door handle that will stay closed. But it doesn't lock.

Darling Trevor, whose energy never waned during the entire afternoon of frustration, then decided to charge us nothing. That's southern hospitality, isn't it!! We pushed $20 on him for the parts, despite his protests, and Mark actually gave him the address to this blog, so I couldn't write anything bad about him even if I wanted to. (I don't want to. He's a great young guy. Ask him about the Playboy Mansion if you ever meet him, though.) If you're reading this, thanks again, Trevor!

We might try to fix the door handle so it locks. Or we might just go on the assumption that our vehicle doesn't look like something a rich person drives, so why would anybody try to break in. I'll update you if we manage to fix it (or get broken into).

TENNESSEE

So enough of that - we got on the road and made it to Memphis, Tennessee, home of Elvis Presley's Graceland!


As you all know, Mark and I are both huge Elvis fans.

Are you laughing yet? I appreciate Elvis' influence on the music scene, really. I kind of like his music, too, so there! We would have taken a pass on going to Graceland except for, well, mom this is all your fault. My mother is a major Elvis fan. I mean big time. I think she would have been irritated if we'd driven straight through Memphis without taking a single picture of Graceland or buying her at least one overpriced souvenir.

Here it is in all it's glory:

The fuzzy dining room, where they wouldn't let me use my flash:

The fuzzy living room, where they wouldn't let me use my flash:

His parents' bedroom, which was bright: (hint hint, no flash needed)

Elvis played this piano with friends on the morning of his death:

What Elvis photo set would be complete without a sequined jumpsuit!

In all seriousness, it was pretty interesting. The mansion and grounds are extremely well kept up and the self-guided audio tour was very good too.

The tour ends at a meditation garden where many members of the Presley family have been buried.