TKO 1: It’s technically knock out
Leaving the Michigan rim, I shapeshifted into an eagle and flew down to Memphis, Tennessee. I landed in the Wolf River of course, and went downtown for some brekkie.
I heard some howling coming out of a restaurant, and thought I recognised the voice, and when I entered it was none other than Howlin’ Wolf; I realised I must have time-travelled back to the 50s or 60s without realising it when I flew down.
I left Memphis on the Blues Highway, and travelled up to Nashville. As I passed through I heard Dolly Parton singing ‘Coat of Many Colours’, and thought she must have been speaking about me.
Then I fancied a break from running so I caught a train down to Chattanooga, before heading up into the Appalachians. It was great to be up in the mountains again, and I made good progress up to the north-east of the state.
I passed through Newport to Bristol, and entered into a conversation about a strange game they were playing there. I thought it was kind of golfy, but my acquaintance thought it was more tennisy.
After leaving the game behind I rested up on the border with Kentucky, the second stage of my travel through TKO.