If the Monkees were speaking of Clarksville, Indiana, they were certainly wrong about one thing: there is no last train. They run all night. I can say that, because we spent three nights at the foot of the tracks at the Louisville Metro KOA, which is across the Ohio River in Clarksville.

 

Most of the time, passing freight trains rumbled slowly by, their restful staccato rattle a peaceful reminder of old railroad songs. Between 2:00 and 3:00 A.M. on the last of our three nights, something happened. Apparently someone placed a pea under one of dozens of boxcars, and a diesel locomotive was forced to move the cars one-by-one until the pea was found. The engine revved up the track and back again, over and over for a half-hour or until there wasn't a closed eye in the RV park.

 

In Louisville, we toured the Louisville Slugger plant and museum. Ash trees from Pennsylvania and New York endured chainsaws, mill saws and boring machines (not that machines that drill are ever dull) before arriving at the plant in downtown Louisville as billets. The plant, set apart from the rest of the riverside area by a giant bat that soared above the rooftops, turned the billets into bats. Billets - wooden cylinders about 36 inches long and 3 inches in diameter -- met the lathe in the first process. Then automated and manual operations turned them into bats, most of them bearing the signature of and destined for ownership by major league players.  Sammy Sosa, Jason Giambi, Junior - all had cardboard packages in the shipping area with their names attached. One bat, proudly or otherwise, wore my name because of an arrangement before the tour.

 

We invested the day in Louisville, enjoying a breakfast bagel at The Main Street Eatery and slices of pizza at Luigi's Pizzeria. We took in an IMAX movie at the local science exhibit. In the afternoon we collected the rental car from an odd parking lot where you parked the car, then pushed four folded-up dollar bills into a metal box located elsewhere on the lot. The place where you slipped the ones corresponded to the position of your car on the lot. I assumed an attendant opened the box during the day to check the take.

 

Once, while walking on the sidewalk, a car stopped beside us, and the passenger rolled down his window and asked, "Where's Caesars?" I told him I was from out of town. It was the 13th of March, and as luck would have it - two days before the Ides - we came to Caesars.

 

Back at the campground, Delphine grilled the locals about the location of malls, restaurants, grocery stores and any banks where could be found every Tennessee state quarter in the 12 billion year manifold of the space-time continuum. (If my frustration didn't make sense to you, then you've never seen Delphine on a quest for quarters.)

 

One man, an employee of the KOA, told us we should try out Caesars, the nearby casino. Delphine offered him her map, but he said to forget the map. Area roads were so chopped up by freeway construction that maps were useless.

 

With precise directions in hand, we drove to New Albany, turned left on 131 across from the White Castle and found Caesars beside the river across from and very near to a coal-fired power plant. I guessed the plant was necessary to keep the casino lights burning. Actually a river boat operation, the casino itself steamed away just as we arrived. However, the buffet was outstanding and too cheap to be believed.

 

Next day we visited Clarksville's dual malls. Green Tree Mall and River Falls Mall were side-by-side on 131, and they both had a Dillards. Barb Ringo, proprietor of the campground, explained that one had men's clothes, the other, women's. At a Circuit City beside the malls, we finally broke down and bought a $300 miniature printer we'd been needing. For one thing, we had to print the e-ticket from Montreal, and had not been able to get to a Kinkos.

 

The last night provided a chance to sneak next door from the KOA and see a musical comedy at The Derby Dinner Playhouse. Out of the Habit was a locally written play, in which the songwriter was the chief musician in attendance. Very enjoyable - and the actors waited our tables.