Tao Te McKay’s

McKay’s Bookstore's 50th birthday made state news early this month when the Knoxville Fire Marshall had to shut down the city’s store location—upwards of five thousand people were lined up in their parking lot that afternoon, and twenty three were hospitalized for heat exhaustion. 

Knoxville wasn’t the only city affected by the birthday celebration. The event sent close to ten thousand book enthusiasts to five locations: Mebane and Winston-Salem in North Carolina, and Knoxville, Chattanooga, and Nashville here in Tennessee. For many of these stores, the crowds that built in their parking lots were more than anyone anticipated. Knoxville—being in the center of all five—saw the convergence of these crowds. Though the vast majority started in Mebane, others, like my group, began in Nashville.

The central location of Knoxville was where both groups converged. Everyone in the city dealt with a massive amount of traffic. Cars going to McKay’s had lined up in a standstill all the way onto I-75, and Knoxville Police eventually closed roads as the Fire Marshall had the store closed. It was also the hottest part of the day, on a day when temperatures were reaching close to 100 degrees. The Knoxville Fire Department had brought a bus into the parking lot, instructing patrons to go inside if they felt faint. It filled up quickly. 

Those who did not make the trip got the early-aughts Black Friday horror story version of this story but I, like thousands of others, did make the nine hour journey. I spoke with dozens of other roadtrippers along the way and after the fact, and the consensus is clear: everyone is grateful to McKay’s for providing the opportunity for an extremely rewarding, fulfilling adventure — despite the struggle adventure presents.

WHAT WAS MCKAY’S ULTIMATE ROAD TRIP?

McKay’s was founded on July 9th, 1974 with the belief that traditional systems of education restrained learning and with the intention of providing an alternative. They did this by creating what they called a “free enterprise library” — a place where people could obtain books at very low prices, keep them for as long as they pleased, and return them for credit toward other books later. The first store was called Edward McKay, and was in North Carolina. When the brand split ownership, McKay’s opened the Knoxville location in 1985. Today, they carry books of all kinds, records, CDs, movies, games, electronics, and musical instruments.

So, when for their 50th birthday celebration they offered a total of $800 store credit to anyone who made it to all five locations within 14 hours, people swarmed. The rules were simple: starting at 8 a.m., roadtrippers aged 18 or older could get their McKay’s passport at any location. From there, they had until 10 p.m. to get that passport stamped at each one, collecting store credit and commemorative prizes along the way. At the second location visited, there were t-shirts; at the third, $50 of McKay’s credit, a travel mug, and snacks; at the fourth, $250 of McKay’s credit and a poster; and finally, at the fifth, $500 in McKay’s trade. Of course, the store did disclaim that prizes would only be handed out while supplies lasted—but everyone would receive store credit regardless.

By 6:30 a.m. on July 9th, employees of the Mebane McKay’s realized the event was much larger than anticipated—thousands of people had already gathered outside of the store. The rules were changed immediately, and all McKay’s employees began handing out and stamping passports early. By 8 a.m., it was clear that there was no way to work quickly enough—over five thousand McKay’s fans were blocking roads in the city of Mebane. As the hours passed, some parked along the interstate, climbing a chain link fence to get their passport. Throughout the day, rule changes occurred for similar reasons. Eventually, people could get their passports stamped for multiple locations by only visiting one, and the closing time for all stores was changed to midnight.

WHY I HAD A GREAT TIME

I took the McKay’s roadtrip with three other women, all three McKay’s enthusiasts. I myself had been meaning to visit the store for years, but never made the time. The other women planned our trip meticulously—analyzing social media posts, store data, charting multiple routes, and crafting a menu of roadtrip snacks so we wouldn’t stop anywhere unnecessary. Ultimately, the three of them decided that it seemed too many people would be starting in Mebane. So, we met in Chattanooga at 6 a.m., and immediately piled in the car for Nashville. 

I pulled an all-nighter just to make it in time, not wanting to disappoint. This ended up being my contribution to the roadtrip: I was told that in my delirious and sleep deprived state, I “kept everyone laughing” for the 14 hour journey.

There was some consternation among the group at 6:30, as word reached us that stores had already begun handing out passports. They had planned meticulously. How was this fair? But, no one had any idea of the chaos that was brewing in Mebane. When we reached Nashville’s store before 8 and were out within 15 minutes, however, everyone felt a surge of adrenaline. Our return to Chattanooga was similarly smooth, and spirits were high as we made our way on to Knoxville. 

We arrived in Knoxville before 1 p.m., but it immediately became clear that we were seeing the blending of both roadtrip groups. We sat on the access road for about a half hour, and the parking lot was a snaking line of hot, tired book lovers. Luckily, because we had a group of four, we were able to take turns standing in line, going inside to use the restroom, and waiting in the shade. About 30 minutes into this ordeal, a McKay’s employee began running down the line to stamp passports. As they reached us, a police officer stopped them: the traffic was dangerous, and the crowds were impeding traffic. Something had to be done. 

One of the original founders of McKay’s stepped outside to hand out store credit, sweating in the hot sun with the rest of us. After an hour, my group was back in the car and headed for North Carolina. It was still early in the afternoon. As we rode our way down Blue Ridge Parkway, we got word that the situation in Knoxville had worsened and 23 people were hospitalized. The Fire Marshall had asked that the store shut down. About an hour away from Winston-Salem, we watched the news report. That’s when I thanked the other women for their careful planning, and they thanked me for being a disoriented stream-of-consciousness commentary track for their entertainment. 

At Winston-Salem, there was absolutely no line. We cheered as we left the car, were given many prizes that had run out at previous stores, and even looked around a bit. At Mebane, we waited for five minutes, got our $500 in store credit, and shopped. Using only half of my pretend money, I bought something I had wanted for over ten years: a cello. It was 8 p.m., and everyone was delirious with joy. We went to a local brewery for dinner, and retired at an AirBnb with a hot tub. Not one of us was concerned with the way the McKay’s Ultimate Road Trip rules had changed throughout the day.

WHAT ABOUT EVERYONE ELSE?

As I made my way through crowds and long hours in the car, my friends reported on activity in the Facebook group, “The Ultimate McKay’s Road Trip.” The group alone saw over 3.5 thousand members sharing details, traffic reports, and line conditions. Though some complained and even protested the conditions they were—willingly—suffering, the general consensus within the group was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. This sentiment was echoed as I spoke with other people in line, who, despite being hot and tired, were excited to be able to participate in such a singular event.

Andrea Baker of Chapel Hill was among those who started in Mebane, camping the night before only 20 minutes from the McKay’s location. She headed to the store at 6:40 a.m. that morning, but due to traffic and parking didn’t actually make it into line until 7:30. They had parked at Chick-fil-A, and “getting out was a nightmare.” The story at Winston-Salem was similar, and by the time they reached Knoxville’s location, they had opted to park over a mile away rather than navigate closed roads and traffic. They arrived not long before the location was shut down, and at 5:30 the sea of other participants was churning with Knoxville’s rush hour in what Baker calls a “huge cluster mess.”

They followed the wave of chaos to Chattanooga, where two lines had formed: one for people insistent upon going along to Nashville, and another for those who wanted to “cash out,” getting the full credit despite not being able to make the full journey. Baker and her husband joined the second. Was it all worth it? “There were laughs and there were tears,” says Baker. “We made memories and talked to some really cool people. We planned accordingly and not a single plan that we made… actually took place. Would we still do it again? Yes.”

Two other Mebane starters, Cordelia Allen and her husband, arrived in Mebane at 6 a.m. after only two hours of sleep “because [they] were so excited.” They were glad they did. Allen said she was amazed by the turnout. “McKay’s felt so small town to us, and it was such a shock and so amazing to see it turn out the way it did,” she wrote. “We stayed just ahead of the crowd at each stop—but just barely. It felt like we were being chased in the best way!” She added that she and her husband were “so grateful” to McKay’s and hope they are around for another 50 years or more.

Every other story I collected was similar. Those who started in Nashville suffered mildly and made a fantastic, core memory. Those who started in Mebane did the same, suffering at varying greater degrees depending on their start time. Many expressed enormous thanks to McKays and their employees, and some even brought gifts of donuts, coffee, and pizza to the stores as they went along.

Allen Reynolds, another roadtripper, echoed a sentiment shared by many who made the wild journey on Tuesday, July 9th: how decent the crowds were all along the way, despite our circumstances. “People were kind to each other,” he states. “In Mebane in the morning, people helped cars get through the massive crowds… I don't think I even heard one honk. It was actually kind of restoring of faith in humanity, especially with how the world's been going the last several years.” I agree wholeheartedly. I saw some of the most deliberate and polite zipper merges I’ve ever seen, even as thousands competed for $800, a mug, a poster, and a t-shirt — sweating and sleep deprived.

Did I become horrifically ill the day after I returned home? Yes. Am I still mentally recovering from 48 hours where I was unable to be alone? Absolutely. But I have no regrets. There are few things left to do today as innocent and fun as drive around used bookstores among ten thousand people who prefer to stay in with a nice game, record, or story. I’m doubtful that another similar event will take place again. While I adore my new cello, my books, and my Polaroid camera, I find that the commemorative travel mug I never wanted in the first place is deeply treasured. When I carry it out like a trophy, I may just run into someone who shared a genuine experience with me—both of us having suffered and smiled.