Kentucky is one of those states where, when you zoom into the map, iconic titles appear, each one representing a totally unique experience worth discovering. The undulating highway is a veritable Choose Your Own Adventure book of off-ramps leading to historic caverns and adventures.
The morning get-up-and-go on this autumn sunrise in Bowling Green is crisp. Diners reanimate over a steaming cup of joe. Our waitress hurries over with good cheer, a print of a firetruck and some crayons to greet us as we sidle up to the counter for a chicken fried steak and a side of grits with butter and sugar. “What can I get you, hon?” She smiles. The sign above her head reads, “I love you like biscuits and gravy.” Southern hospitality is as comforting as southern comfort food. As we pull out of the lot, that soft crackle of tires in the dirt ushers the start our family road trip through Kentucky.
We didn’t actually expect to see a parade of corvettes while turning onto Corvette Drive, but we did. Veterans were being honoured at the nearby National Corvette Museum, and each drove one of those beautiful American sports cars. Torch Red, Riptide Blue, Cacti Green, Burnt Orange, Sea Wolf Grey. One after the other. These are slick, sexy machines that purr as they hug the curves of the road with the bravado of, “I’m a Corvette, and you’re not.”
Rolling into Louisville, we ready our hats and our binoculars as we pull into Churchill Downs. The Derby Museum is the best place to start as we browse exhibits and sit within a surround-sound and video presentation of The Greatest Race. It’s about the history and culture of the Kentucky Derby; the muscle and the grandeur that evokes a visceral excitement about the power of horses and racing that I never knew before.
The race is about to begin! We quickly assess the Form to determine on which horse to wager our bet. Famed breeder, Federico Tesio, once said, “A horse gallops with his lungs, perseveres with his heart, and wins with his character.” With that, we put our money down on Line of Scrimmage. Our hearts racing, we reach our seats, but are too anxious sit down. The horses are positioned in their starting stalls. A bell rings like an alarm. And they’re off! As their gates swing open, the racers lunge forward with the force of a hurricane. That turbulent clopping of the ground. The kicking up of mud. The power. The grace. We’re instantly enthralled and screaming for “our” horse. As they round that final turn, he’s breaking out of the pack. Now he’s out in front, but the others are gaining. There’s so much tension. And…it’s Line of Scrimmage for the win! What an absolute rush!
We return to the teller to receive our cash. “What are you gonna do now?” He asks. I tell him we’re going to quit and head out for lunch. “You’re the smartest fellas I’ve seen all day!” He laughs.
From prize horse to prize fighter, we park downtown to explore the Muhammad Ali Centre. Ali fought in The Golden Age of boxing, dominated by the hardest hitting rivals in history, each of whom are revealed along the timeline of Ali’s rise from youth to championship belts. Videos show the most intense fights. Exhibits share the narrative of Ali’s fight beyond the ring in which there was no bell, and from which he was undeniably the greatest. The context of civil rights and the war in Vietnam are interwoven to show the tumult and gravity from which Ali won our hearts. The centre also asks us to consider how we can bridge divides and break down barriers in our own communities. While educational and inspirational, the interactive components are the most memorable for my son.
On guard in a boxing ring, we look up at the screen as Laila Ali, lauded as one of the greatest female boxers in history, demonstrates how to dance like her father did, how to punch and how to jab. We may not master the Ali Shuffle, but we practice our stance against a shadow and our rhythm against a speed bag.
The other slugger in town is the Louisville Slugger Museum & Factory. These bats are beautiful, and it’s here where visitors can customize their own. We observe the process from tree to bat. Each one, handled with the reverence of Excalibur, makes its way to an elegant lustre. We even take a swing with our choice of bats from our favorite hitter. My son chooses Babe Ruth’s bat. It’s actually quite heavy. For me, holding Joe Carter’s bat was emotional. I was at that game: Game 6, Saturday night, October 23rd, 1993.
My Dad and I were seated along the 1st baseline when Carter smacked that ball high into left field. As it sailed into the sky our collective gasp could fill a hot air balloon. We froze. Our dream-filled eyes opened wider than that moonlit night. And then, that unbelievable roar of 52,000 fans experiencing a once in a lifetime thrill of a lifetime as Carter leaped around the bases to let us know we won! We won! That was one of the greatest moments of my childhood—hugging my Dad as we jumped up and down with such jubilation. Baseball is the most romantic sport there is. Just holding Joe’s bat triggered in me that well of emotion I felt with my Dad on that incredible night.
From mega dreams we head to the Mega Cavern. Kentucky boasts some of the greatest caving experiences in North America. At Louisville Mega Cavern we access the only underground zip-line in the world. (Full disclosure: I don’t do zip-lines. In my only experience with it, my screams of terror could break glass. But hey, I’m traveling with my ten-year-old son. He does not yet know fear. So, for him, I will do this…)
Turns out, this former limestone mine is one of the top attractions in Kentucky. Strapped into our harness and gear, we hook onto cables and make our way through a ropes course of seventy-six challenges. I gaze in amazement at my son who zips along like a circus performance on a high wire, while I, not as bendy, fold myself into an uncomfortable pretzel to reach each platform. I hook on to the zip-line. My son beams. I chicken out. He looks sullen. “You can do this, dad.” He assures me. This is a real test of confidence. With one deep breath, I say, “I can do this, son.” I re-clip my hooks, give him a smile…and jump.
As my stomach flies up into my mouth, I recoil from that zipper sound, and it doesn’t matter that it’s dark, because my eyes are firmly shut, but soon enough I crash into an awaiting net, hear my son cheering in the distance, and think to myself, “You know what? I can do this again!” And so, I do! This is a remarkable experience, and so much fun for us both. The mere concept of it is as awesome as the feeling of accomplishment and bonding that we both feel.
We’ve earned our dinner, and there’s nothing better than a hearty Hot Brown at The Brown Hotel. Created here almost one hundred years ago, this open-faced roast turkey sandwich with charred tomatoes is lavished in a creamy Mornay sauce with rich and gooey melted cheese that can only be properly scooped up with accompanying crunchy Bourbon Barrel Fries. The Lobby Bar, decorated in English Renaissance and Neo-Classical styles, is comfortably elegant and a perfect perch from which to enjoy a Mint Julep and toast a glorious day in Louisville.
Our balcony view from The Galt House Hotel is a panorama of the meandering Ohio River. On the other side, Indiana. From our cozy suite, we’re a convenient walking distance from the Revivalist buildings and bourbon distilleries of Whiskey Row, and all the downtown attractions we came here to visit. Louisville, named for a King; city of spirits and champions.
