urban bicycle journeys

Enterprise, Mississippi (population 496) is twenty-something miles south of the larger Meridian MS. Both towns are about halfway up the state, two hundred miles northeast of New Orleans. Thunderstorms were predicted as Lyman and I circled in my Ford Escape Hybrid with two bicycles in the back. We needed a place to park for twenty-four hours.

Our plan, hatched in the car while driving, was to park somewhere around Enterprise, bicycle up to Meridian, spend the night, then bicycle back the next day on a different route.

We found a fetching cafe called Bittersweet Crossroads, built out of a 1950’s gas station and nowhere near a four lane highway. Their sandwiches are prepared to order. Lunch! There were tables in a semi-outdoor space fashioned from one of the garage bays. Threatening storm clouds rumbled in the distance.

The friendly middle-aged woman at the counter said we could leave our car there for a twenty-four hours. Lyman helped me pull the bicycles out of the back. I was riding my folding Bike Friday and was loaning Lyman my fifteen year old Surly Long Haul Trucker. He had brought his own seat, a leather Brooks B17.

We cycled off into the Mississippi aura.

Approaching the storm Lyman confirmed to me what both of us were thinking; cycling right now into this threatening weather is the dumbest thing we have ever done. We nevertheless continued. We both seemed antsy for this two or three hour bike ride. The next day that woman at the counter told us she had friends who had seen us on the road and had telephoned her to gossip. Who were these guys? Both had considered driving out to rescue us.

We cycled mostly on back roads with little car traffic.

We were lucky. It did rain on us a little but really not much. I was apprehensive the entire ride as thunderous dark rumbling clouds remained so close I felt I could reach out and touch them. Somehow we managed to circle around perimeter of the storm.

We saw a little Trump stuff this day but not more per capita than we had seen in other rural areas. This house had a Trump sign, a Confederate flag, and an Airstream trailer.

There was little car traffic so we were rewarded with an abundance of dogs. At one house in particular three or four mutts lined up in the street in front of us, just waiting to pounce. I normally have two pieces of dog defense in my front bag, a Dog Horn and a pepper spray labelled HALT. I have “carried” HALT for close to twenty years and have never used it, not even once. Conversely I have used the air horn many times. Nobody gets hurt.

On this day I had let Lyman feel safer by loaning him my pepper spray. As we approached the four dogs in the road I triggered the ear splitting sound of the Dog Horn. The animals, at least for a moment, freaked out and gave us space to pass.

One dog later decided he wasn’t completely intimidated and did give chase. We just kept pedaling.

My mind sometimes races while cycling. I had an epiphany out here. Normally I would beat myself up for doing a day’s cycling of “only” twenty-five miles. I will turn seventy this July and Lyman is already seventy-three. I have spent my life competing with myself, pushing to cycle long distances. Maybe now I can just enjoy the day. Who cares if we only cycle twenty-five miles? It’s OK, really.

In continuing thunder but only drizzling rain we cycled into Meridian MS (population 35,000.) We first passed through its poorer south side.

We crossed a bridge across the railroad tracks into downtown.

This bank exhibited mid-century modernism.

Meridian grew as a railroad junction town early in the twentieth century, somewhere for north / south travelers to change trains. An Atlanta Airport of its day. Like many small American cities, the tallest building in Meridian was built in the late 1920’s. The Art Deco sixteen story Threefoot office building opened just in time for the Great Depression. It has been recently converted into the Threefoot Hotel where we had booked rooms for the night. Threefoot? According to Wikipedia the 1920’s developers had anglicized their German-Jewish surname Dreyfus. With the bikes we slipped through the hotel’s front door just as a ferocious thunderstorm really went to work.

The hotel is quite nice, really. I got a Starbucks coffee in the lobby, oat milk latte, one pack sugar. Both Lyman, who lives in Austin TX, and myself, living in Chapel Hill NC and New Orleans LA, at home arrogantly feel we are selling out by patronizing a Starbucks rather than a locally owned coffeehouse. Here in Meridian it felt different. I sense this hotel and downtown Meridian feel lucky to have this Starbucks. There is only one other Starbucks within eighty miles of this spot. By East Coast standards Meridian is isolated, out there, 100 miles east of Jackson MS, 250 miles southeast of Memphis, 200 miles northeast of New Orleans, 150 miles from Birmingham AL and almost 300 miles west of Atlanta.

At 5:00 PM the weather continued to rage and walking around town was not an option. The hotel has a small but attractive eleventh floor cocktail lounge. The adjoining outdoor sky deck was closed due to the wind and rain. Lyman has recently Quit Drinking, citing heart health. I was interested in how this would effect our bike ride socializing. He seemed perfectly comfortable coming up to the eleventh floor bar to hang out anyway. There was alcohol-free beer and THC laced soda. We hung out, chatting with locals. Several seemed dismissive of Meridian, wishing to go somewhere else.

A year or two ago I found at someone’s moving-away trash in New Orleans a thick hardcover book published in 1960 called Great Restaurants of America, the author’s rather snooty pick of their forty or fifty best restaurants, circa 1960. Half were in New York City. Many French names. It listed four in New Orleans (Antoine’s, Galatoire’s, Commander’s Palace, and the Ponchartrain Hotel.) There were none whatsoever in the states of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, Alabama, or Georgia but the book devoted two pages to Weidmann’s in Meridian, Mississippi. The author pitched:

“The four temples of marinated herring are, in my estimation, Lindy’s, Reuben’s, 21, and the Oak Room of the Hotel Plaza, all in New York. Weidmann’s can be added to that select foursome.”

Weidmann’s, founded in 1870, is still there and was right down the street, walking distance. Of course Lyman and I had to go. We found seats at the bar.

The restaurant scene in America has changed dramatically since 1960, almost all for the better. There are now good restaurants all over. Here at Weidmann’s the menu seemed modern, with a mix of meat and seafood, lots of New Orleans influences, expensive but not insanely so, cheaper than a high end big city restaurant. I ordered their Catfish Belvedere; pan fried fish topped with crabmeat. The fish was a little overcooked, but still fine.

After dinner we strolled around downtown. The streets of Meridian at 8:30 PM on a Thursday night were predictably not full of people but did not feel empty or dangerous either. Meridian is holding its own.

We did find one store open, called MUM. Even though we didn’t buy anything they gave us stickers.

A guy showed us around. It felt weird for this brightly lit store to be open at this hour. He admitted they make their real money selling cigarettes and THC edibles and vapes. There was all sorts of other stuff for sale including used guitars and amps. Meridian is the home of the privately owned guitar amplifier manufacturer Peavey Electronics, a brand I have known for decades.

The next morning we had breakfast at Starbucks (oatmeal!) before heading out. I needed to find a place to sing. Meridian has produced at least two accomplished musical artists. I have always been a fan of Meridian born singer-songwriter Steve Forbert, whose first album from 1977 is a favorites of mine. He still lives and records in Nashville. An even bigger star from Meridian MS was Jimmie Rodgers, the former railroad brakeman who became nationally famous as a singer-songwriter before dying of tuberculosis at age thirty-five in 1933.

I read a fascinating book a few years ago about the businessman Ralph Peer who pioneered how popular music is performed, packaged, and sold. His first two big “finds” in 1927 at recording sessions in Bristol VA were the Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers. Some consider Jimmie Rodgers the father of modern Country Music. Rodger’s songs frequently are about railroads and what were then called “hobos.” Today we would call them the homeless. This song is called Waiting for a Train.

Today’s cycling weather was friendlier; overcast with temperatures in the low seventies. We cycled back to our car in Enterprise MS by a different route. There were hills to be conquered.

We arrived back at our car at Bittersweet Crossroads in Enterprise MS. We had lunch there once again. This time Lyman asked for a chocolate milk shake, malt please. Me, I have never liked the taste of malt.

I love watching trains go by. Enterprise MS sits right on the Norfolk Southern main line and every day the New Orleans – Birmingham – Atlanta – Greensboro – Washington DC – New York Amtrak train runs right behind the restaurant, obviously not stopping, but there is a station in Meridian. This video is only a few seconds long. My After watching the train pass, we got in my car and headed back towards New Orleans.