Driving with Dad
THERE ARE few experiences that bring people together more than a good road trip. I learned this by traveling all over the South with my father, John Evans, starting at around age 10, when I became—bear with me here—a competitive skeet shooter. I wasn’t good at much else in terms of sports, but I had an uncanny ability to hit a clay target with a shotgun, just like my dad. So he started taking me to shooting tournaments on summer weekends. We would go to any city or town within a day’s drive of Memphis—Little Rock, Chattanooga, Lafayette, Paducah, St. Louis, Louisville, Tupelo, Savannah, and even San Antonio. We also drove a lot of back roads, burning up the miles in an old station wagon and occasionally getting lost (another…