Nov. 19, 2012 – Knoxville, Tenn. to Nashville, Tenn.

What a whirlwind day.

I was up by 5:30 a.m. and on the shoulder once the sun came up. Eight hours later, after about eight miles of walking without finding a ride, I was ready to pull the plug on this stupid, half-baked idea for a trip.

Tired, dehydrated, and grumpy, I half-heartedly wandered though the Flying J truck top, asking every driver I passed if he could take me west.

To my disbelief, Peter Pajota said yes. Two hours and two free slices of pizza later, I was strutting through downtown Nashville, feeling on top of the world…

In hindsight, poor planning and bad decision-making factored into my awful morning. I had abandoned my initial on-ramp and started hiking down I-40 early on, only to find out that an intersecting highway would lead to a three-mile detour.

Dripping with sweat and cursing the sky, I had my first doubts about making Nashville.

My spirits dropped even lower when I finally reached the next on-ramp. It was relatively quiet, with the same goddamn non-existent shoulder that you find all over Tennessee. But I still gave it an hour before hiking 1.5 miles to a weigh-in station.

I was booted from that station within seconds, meaning it was a two-mile walk to a real truck stop.

My back was groaning under the weight of my pack well before I got there. It was no fun. I dumped my load and collapsed outside Flying J the moment I arrived, wondering what the hell I should do next. After some food, I decided I’d try the on-ramp – but I was bothering the truckers within the hour.

I was so happy when Peter said yes. For the next 100 miles, the interstate never looked so pretty.

Hours later, while eating tasty food and drinking beer with Andrew and Chrissy in East Nashville, I felt a million miles away from the outskirts of Knoxville. I was comfortable, happy and laughing with my new friends.