We had been invited by Bertis, REM’s original manager who now looks after everything REM, to come over to the office and take a look around. After an old school breakfast in the Mayflower diner, who have been “putting the south in your mouth since 1948” (their slogan not mine), we paid a visit to Bertis and the team at REM HQ.

It was extraordinary. Every square inch of wall space, shelf space and apart from a narrow walk way, the floor space had been utilised to tell the story of the band. From a young hairy beat combo playing the 40 watt in Athens, to the stadium filling three piece that played at the inauguration of President Clinton. A wall dedicated to Rolling Stone covers alone, an illustration from the REM Simpson’s episode, more awards than shelves and a mountain of back stage passes piled next to Bertis’s desk. (He’s been pondering getting an artist to do some kind of installation with them for sometime). It was like being in a fantastic rock n roll museum.

Just a few days prior to our visit the band had announced that they were to split after 31 years together. It always provokes an emotional reaction when such a massive band who have effected so many people call time, but looking at all the things they had achieved along the way we could only think that the guys and the team in the office must have had three brilliant decades together.

Back on the road heading south, making for Montgomery Alabama. God knows why but I felt the need to get there in a hurry. Apparently in a little too much of a hurry for a Georgia state trooper.  At 95mph I caught him in my rear view mirror. A futile attempt to slow to the 65 speed limit was, well futile. The show was complete with siren and disco lighting and I was getting a police escort to the cold shoulder all the while being given a crash course on how to behave in the presence of the law by Jeff (He knows about things like this because so he says his brother in-law is an ex cop).

There is ritual drama about anything involving the police in the US. All that coming up from behind and keeping your hands visible at all times etc all adds to the intimidation I guess. The officer asked me why I was in such a hurry and to be honest I didn’t have an answer for him. I explained that I had only just taken over at the wheel, the car was very fast and before I knew it we were doing 95 (he said 90, I wasn’t going to dispute it), I then attempted to slow to a more leisurely pace conducive to the state but it was all a little too late.

Baffled he took my license to his car. Jeff said “I bet he’ll do nothing. A British license in Georgia equals a big pain in the arse.” He came back and sure enough said that I was to slow down because due to my speed if he wrote me a ticket it would have to be at the jail. We thanked him and proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Montgomery, our next stop was memorable for three things. The downtown has a beautiful old confederate capital building and no restaurants, there are, however, bail bonds men on every corner. We got out before we needed to employ one and found luncheon ballast in a TA truck stop. I’m in danger of repeating myself but I have to say it, the smallest things moving around the buffet were the trucks. It was morbid but in a Victorian curiosity kind of way, entertaining.

The road started to cut a path through a new terrain. Swamp. We were approaching our overnight stop; Mobile Alabama, home to battle ship USS Alabama and a lot of shrimp.