It’s official: I have the fever. No, not THAT fever. I’m talking about spring fever.

I’m no weather expert like that tornado chasing guy on television, but I’m smart enough to know that we’ll likely have more cold weather between now and the end of April. Mama always called it “the Easter spell.” And mama is always right.

Regardless of what lies ahead in the weather forecast, I’ve got the fever. I’m ready to put the cold temps behind and take a road trip. Other than going to Texas to see my kids and grandkids in the very near future (I had another grandson in late October who I haven’t yet met), I haven’t made any firm plans for a free-wheeling type of vacation, but I’m working on it.

When I was a young ‘un, Mom and Dad always planned some sort of summer excursion. Sometimes we didn’t stray too far from Okieland, other times we would jaunt several hundred miles across the country.

One very memorable trip took place in 1969, when I was about five years old. We had driven to Forrest City, Arkansas to visit some of my mom’s relatives. While we were there, my dad, who was a huge country music fan, decided we should visit Nashville.

First, we drove to Memphis then on to Nashville to see the Grand Ole Opry. I’m not talking about the modern soundstage you see on television now...we made a pilgrimage to the Mother Church of country music, the sacred Ryman Auditorium.

Even though I was very young, I have vivid memories of sitting in the balcony of that hallowed auditorium and watching people fan themselves with a piece of cardboard attached to a small stick.

I still remember some of the performers on the bill that night, including the Wilburn Brothers and Ernest Tubb. I can still hear Minnie Pearl’s voice reverberating throughout the building as she bellowed her trademark greeting of “Howwww-deeee!” Grandpa Jones and Stringbean were there, too. After the Opry show, we went to Ernest Tubb’s record store, where he gave a short concert.

I’m pretty sure I can trace my beginnings of a lifelong love affair with music back to that trip. I enjoy a wide variety of musical styles, but I’ve had an affinity for country music — especially “traditional” country — virtually all my life. And I owe it all to trip in a cramped Oldsmobile, where I likely rode (for at least part of the way) in the floorboard with my siblings’ feet on my back.

Yessir...those were the good ole days. I might just hop on eastbound 1-40 soon and drive on to Memphis. If I’m anything like my dad (trust me, I am), I may even head to Nashville. It’ll be a grand ole trip.