Oct 10, 2008 You cannot even find it on most maps. There is not much here but a few businesses and some old-timers’ memories. Yet it has a name that radiates southern down-home elegance: Dixie Lee Junction. Even with the Icearium and Little Joe’s Pizza flanking the more quaint Court Café, this unincorporated town has the feel of decades long past. Riding through the crossroads, one can sense its former significance: the major intersection of two major highways. Dixie Highway (U.S. 70) was originally built to connect the Midwest with the southern states. Lee Highway (U.S. 11) tied New York City with San Francisco, via the South. And they crossed right here. Rumor has it that the town was named after Bing Crosby’s first wife, Dixie Lee, who grew up in nearby Harriman. The less romantic but more likely origin of the name is the highways. Traveling down the interstate at freeway speed, you’ll miss this slice of Tennessee altogether. I didn’t want to miss it. I don’t want to miss any part of the state I love. So I have gotten out the Ben-Gay and embarked on a dream.
I am in the midst of a fabulous adventure, a long-time desire. I am riding my bicycle the length of Tennessee on Highway U.S. 70. I began at the North Carolina line east of Newport several weeks ago. I have pedaled through Dandridge and Knoxville, and on a recent fall day I traversed Loudon County. I am a fulltime pastor with a tight schedule and cannot afford weeks or months at a time to pursue such interests. But utilizing my day off and occasional vacation days, I can complete this project in stages. My wife Marcia drops me off and picks me up on down the line. My goal is Memphis and the Mississippi River by next spring. I am not in a hurry.
This ride is a challenge for me, recently turned fifty-five and officially now a senior citizen. Who knows? Perhaps it will ward off the onset of old age and senility for a few months. My purpose is not to raise awareness of (or money for) any worthy cause. Rather, I am riding for the pure, wholesome pleasure of it, enjoying what God has given us richly to enjoy: the privilege of living in Tennessee. My inspiration for this adventure is twofold: television personality Art Linkletter, who at an active ninety-six years of age encourages seniors to accept new challenges; and my fellow pastor Lon Chenowith, who over a fourteen-year period hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. Lon’s experience showed me that a dream can be realized in stages. So I don’t imitate Lance Armstrong, I don’t even wear spandex. I sit up straight and enjoy the ride.
Hence, my discovery of Dixie Lee Junction. Having lived in Knoxville as a teenager, I had heard that name before. I’d even passed through here without knowing where I was. Decades ago at the end of an enjoyable Sunday afternoon drive after church, Dad took Mom and us kids to a barbecue restaurant called Otts. I remember the odd name and the strong recommendation of my Dad’s coworker. (It was good barbecue.) Imagine my surprise at seeing it again after forty years—this time by bicycle.
Loudon County held some other delights for me that day as well. I have traveled through the county scores of times on the interstate but only rarely on U.S. 70, and never at bicycle speed. A beautiful fall day, rolling hills, blue skies, pleasant temperature, fields with huge hay bales—such a time and place explain why people leave less fortunate states to move to Tennessee. I thought I could die of pure pleasure on this ride! If Moses had been pedaling along with me, he might have seen the blazing yellows, golds, and reds of the trees and thought the Lord was speaking to him again.
The ride was not all sweetness and light, however. I discovered that Loudon County is mostly uphill, in the wrong direction. One long, steep upgrade seemed never-ending—up and up, top a rise only to see another rise unfold before me. Would this upgrade never end? My muscles aching, I pedaled by faith, just knowing the next bend would reveal a long, breezy downgrade. It didn’t happen. I thought I could die of pure fatigue! When I did finally hit some short downhill sections of highway, I learned from bitter experience Murphy’s Law for Bicyclists: Downgrades never equal upgrades. My thirst was raging, my legs crying for relief. Rounding a bend, I happened upon an oasis: a little convenience store with cold drinks, shade, and a clerk named Jessie, who allowed some conversation and a bench to sit and rest. No I-40 rest area ever looked so good.
Ten minutes rest was sufficient to remind me that, even at its worst, this ride is a pure delight. At its worst? I am having a blast rediscovering the Tennessee I have known since childhood but never quite experienced in this way; seeing reminders of decades gone forever along a once-bustling highway. Dixie Lee Junction, Loudon County, rural East Tennessee—a veritable feast of sights for the long-time local or the tourist passing through. But slow down! Get off the interstate. Take the time to see it all up close. And I recommend bicycle speed.
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