-----Though many bags were packed and many items checked off many lists at the close of Tuesday, the final steps towards getting out the door still lingered as all items of importance were verified in triplicate. All said, our journey began a little before noon, and we took the road north to Wytheville, Virginia.

-----But we had, since 2013, made a vow to ourselves not to go through the treacherous mountain roads of West Virginia unless absolutely necessary. It was in Wytheville that we turned southwest, bound for Knoxville—but, more importantly, for Bristol. For driving to Knoxville is a matter of simply utilizing the great corridor of Interstate 40; Bristol offered something far different.

-----Our first stop was intended to be the home field of the Bristol Pirates, a small outfit in the lowest tier of the affiliated professional leagues. But as my mom followed the directions we'd printed, it seemed to take us in a big circle and we ended up in front of the downtown establishment at which we intended to partake of lunch: Burger Bar. The Burger Bar is a local institution and is little more than a hole in the wall—and yes, there is an actual bar, though we chose a table.

-----The highlights were—oddly enough—not the titular burgers, as the french fries were tender and fluffy and salted just enough. The milkshakes—of which there were more options than burgers—were phenomenal; my dad had a peanut butter and banana while I opted for peanut butter and chocolate. Together, they made one Elvis milkshake, although both of us were too protective of our precious sips to attempt what was doubtless a magnificent combination.

-----Bristol prides itself as being the birthplace of country music and the Burger Bar promotes itself in part on being the last place that Hank Williams Sr. was seen alive. It's got the classic down-home diner feel that makes you feel like you stepped right back into 1950. Outside, State Street—one of the main corridors through town—hugs the border between Virginia and Tennessee, with the flags on either side of the downtown area denoting which state you're in. It's these kinds of interesting locations that convince us to reroute our trip, although I couldn't shake the feeling that taxes and voter registration would be especially difficult given the border situation.

-----After lunching, we went with renewed vigor towards the Bristol Pirates, and we simply completed the loop we had begun earlier as we found the park. We soon realized that the Pirates were not in town; instead, it appeared as if the municipal field had been rented by a high school team. We did learn that the field was the site of the greatest pitching performance in history, where a minor leaguer once struck out all 27 batters of the opposing side.

-----We put the pedal to the metal bound for Knoxville, where it seemed as if we had an outside chance at getting to the stadium of the Double-A Tennessee Smokies, but despite our overall optimism, we misjudged the location of the delineation between the Eastern and Central time zones. By the time we got to the exit, they had been closed up nearly half an hour, and the traffic had increased to such an astounding level that we likely couldn't have gotten off if we'd tried.

-----Our hunger, sated since Bristol, began to return, and we had our eyes set on an interesting establishment in the form of Full Service Barbecue. There's no interior; rather, it's a former drive-in. Patrons walk to the window, where you place your order and sit down at one of the outdoor wooden picnic tables and await someone to exit the building hawking your name while holding plastic bags up.

-----We ordered pork and chicken sliders with sides of baked beans and cole slaw. The chicken sliders were decent, but the pork was where the smoky flavor and sauce really shone. The pork was cooked in a slightly decrepit steamer out in the front of the building which continually belched smoke into the twilight sky, but we had no need to search for such poetry beyond what was in our mouths. After savoring the sliders, we moved on to the sides, which were also good—especially the baked beans, where you could really taste the richness of the sauce in which they'd long been stewing.

-----We had asked the fellow who had taken our order for his preference between the pecan pie and the banana pudding, and his response was that he liked to combine them. Never ones to turn down an unusual combination, we got one of each and decided to dig in, and it was easily one of the best desserts from any trip. The sweet crunch of the pie balanced out well with the more tart and savory pudding, which contained what appeared to be—and what tasted as—banana cake batter. Whatever it was, it worked very well with the rest of the expected banana pudding ingredients. Apart, they were good, but together, they were positively unstoppable.

-----Tomorrow, the journey continues north.