In all seriousness, take the trace. I live right smack in the middle of the old Natchez Trace trail where the old Chickasaw Indian Agency complex stood. I know no one will believe me but i heard a horseman plain as day gallop up, rein in and holler "whoa" late one night behind my house and there ain't nothing back there but tangled underbrush. That's not the only time something like that has happened here. Trace is a beautiful road. I rode home about 30 miles down the trace last night after midnight and didn't see a car. Not many places east of the Mississippi where you can say that. Lots of quiet little roadside parks, too. Steve Cheeseborough? I should know that guy i suppose. I live in Mississippi and play old style blues.