Bob Wright
Hawkeye
US Highway 70 runs from Memphis to Bristol, Tennessee, and is known as the first state funded highway in Tennessee. Known when it was built as the "Memphis to Bristol Highway" it was the main road prior to the coming of the Interstate Highways, and stretches five hundred miles covering that distance.
With the end of WW II my Dad bought a new car and Mother decided we would drive up to see my oldest sister near Washington, D.C. Dad's aim was to drive 500 miles in one day, covering the distance across the state. We had a Nash Ambassador then, and we set out along US 70. It took nearly all day, leaving Memphis around 4:00 am. The highway was paved nearly all the way, with some construction, and we arrived at a motel in Bristol near dusk. As Dad got out of the car, he stood a little unsteadily at first, having sat so long. My mother, always making sure we were "proper" explained to everybody around, "He's not drunk, he's just tired."
The next morning we left about sun up and began the drive through the mountains of Virginia. I can still see in my mind's eye the green mountains with the early morning mist in the valley with wisps of smoke smelling of ham or bacon frying. Still very rural at that time, we passed small mountain homes with smoke swirling from the chimneys, and women hanging home made quilts out on the clothes line for sale to tourists passing by. Many women had on simple house dresses and were barefooted. Men wore overalls, and placed cane bottom chairs out for sale, along with other wood carvings and other craft items.
I've made that drive myself since then, but up I-40 or I-65, and gone are the rural folk that delighted my view in those bygone days.
Bob Wright
With the end of WW II my Dad bought a new car and Mother decided we would drive up to see my oldest sister near Washington, D.C. Dad's aim was to drive 500 miles in one day, covering the distance across the state. We had a Nash Ambassador then, and we set out along US 70. It took nearly all day, leaving Memphis around 4:00 am. The highway was paved nearly all the way, with some construction, and we arrived at a motel in Bristol near dusk. As Dad got out of the car, he stood a little unsteadily at first, having sat so long. My mother, always making sure we were "proper" explained to everybody around, "He's not drunk, he's just tired."
The next morning we left about sun up and began the drive through the mountains of Virginia. I can still see in my mind's eye the green mountains with the early morning mist in the valley with wisps of smoke smelling of ham or bacon frying. Still very rural at that time, we passed small mountain homes with smoke swirling from the chimneys, and women hanging home made quilts out on the clothes line for sale to tourists passing by. Many women had on simple house dresses and were barefooted. Men wore overalls, and placed cane bottom chairs out for sale, along with other wood carvings and other craft items.
I've made that drive myself since then, but up I-40 or I-65, and gone are the rural folk that delighted my view in those bygone days.
Bob Wright