In which we found ourselves on the wrong side of a barbed wire fence...

Let me just map out the area of our roamings for you. In case you wished to imagine more accurately our escapades.
If you turn right out of the studio you find yourself heading through a boneyard with pickups scattered around and truck trailers waiting to be dragged to the east or west coast with all manner of articles inside, like the trucks that arrive at the Goodwill store on the right daily. Another right and you get to the railroad with it's huge, grinding engines goading mile long trains of "Building your America" and "Union Pacific" trucks up to Canada or down to Mexico. Every twenty minutes or so another mammoth engine crawls past with blinding flashing lights and a horn that sounds like thirty brass players that believe they are playing notes from the same chord until they actually play it, and then just carry on anyway, even though the audience's ears have long since been damaged.

If you happened to go to the other way out of the studio, you end up in a railroad yard, which you can cross over, with Old Mrs Grissom's salads neon light on a water tower as a focal point. This takes you towards the Tennessee fairgrounds site, which is due to be torn down I believe, which is a terrible shame because as I mentioned in a previous letter, the Speedway is fantastic, and is currently having it's final race on the 4th of October. Anyway, the Fairgrounds Speedway was the site for the Tennessee State Fair, which finished yesterday and has eight foot barbed wire fences with locked gates.

After taking part in an argument about why you shouldn't put a half can of baked beans, tomatoes or anything else for that matter, in the fridge (still in the can), and also a separate, but related argument regarding who couldn't manage to eat a whole can of beans anyway; Michael and I set off into the dark on our 1950's bicycles, lent to us by our producer. The lack of suspension makes bumping over the railroad tracks in the yard a painful experience, unless you stand on the pedals. While I was doing this, though, the bike slipped out of gear and as all my weight was on the pedals, I lost my balance and fell off into the gravel. Fortunately I wasn't going at a breakneck speed like I would be in a while.
Having explored the nearby vicinity, and visited the fairground the previous night, we decided to pay Old Mrs Grissom a nighttime visit and we took the hill that runs past her salad joint. Slightly wary of my earlier mistake with the gears, I held on to the fragile gear changer as if my life depended on it as I forced the bike up the hill. The seat is also slightly too high, so if I slow down too much on corners and inclines, consequences may cause suffering.
At the top of the hill, we came across the Oasis nightclub looking vibrant and .... shut.



After this we reached a wide road heading downtown with practically no cars on it, and without warning, Michael took off down the hill towards the beckoning lights of Nashville, where there's a curious skyscraper that is shaped like Batman's head. Check it out if you're there.
So while Speedy freewheels towards Batman, I relish the moment (sitting slightly awkwardly on a bike in the middle of the freeway looking at nighttime Nashville) and then take off after him. I heard the unmistakable wail of a cop siren and almost panic. We have no lights on but even though the road is well lit, on a quiet night like this it would be easy pickings for police to shop some rogue englishmen. Just before we can cycle to safety the barriers come down on the railroad crossing and then a hulking, groaning metal monster lurches into view, it's creaking boxcars and cabooses blocking the road. These usually take about fifteen minutes to pass, so we veer off to the left and go down a side road, which ends up in the seedy looking site of Tennessee State Fair, now closed and half dismantled. The gate is open, and we saunter in, myself curious about the dinosaur bones structure of a semi-disassembled rollercoaster and other assorted fairground rides in all manner of completion. The remnants of a giant ferris wheel, devoid of neon lights and lovers wrapped up in eachother high above the fair, a ghost train with the ghouls long since lost when the electricity died, and a carousel covered in sheets, the whirling lights and blaring organ vanished along with the customers...
Suddenly lights appeared over the hill where we entered, and we scram on our bikes, towards the centre of the fair and behind a shed full of sleeping camels and llamas. A dromedary camel, far from home, winked at me as we passed in the dim electric light. The cover the shed provided let us get out nearer the opposite exit of the fair, being guarded by four huge bears.


At the gate, we found to our horror, that it was locked. Briefly covered by the bears, I scrambled around looking for some sort of pedestrian exit, the lights behind of a jeep getting closer and closer. Nothing. All the gates are secured with hefty padlocks even Popeye couldn't break unless he had Mrs Grissom's spinach.
Realising that the patrolling jeep had seen us, I started to roll my bike down the hill, jumped on and was heading for a gate which looked open. I could see Mike behind the car, heading down the hill in the opposite direction. No luck, the gate I was heading for had a dead end beyond, just the carnival workers wagons and caravans behind the fence. I've lived and worked on a fair, but I wasn't prepared to knock on the door and say "hello. I shouldn't be here right now as it's closed and locked, but somehow I managed to get in by accident, and now I'm being chased. Could I come in?"
Just as the jeep was passing Mr Bear, Mrs Bear, Boris and Bertie bears on their truck, I saw the lights of a car enter the site, with an automatic gate just starting to close. Forgetting about the gear problems, the saddle and the loose mudguard that threatened to throw itself into my wheel, I pedalled hell for leather towards the closing gate and saw that Mike was doing the same. With just enough room for both of us, we shot out into the road with the gate clanging shut behind.


On our way back to the studio, with the moon blazing it's cold glow onto the mid-west, we passed the junction with a pedestrian crossing that always says "DON'T WALK". It never changes. There's a man there, with a long beard. He'll never get to the other side until they fix that light.