GOODLETTSVILLE, Tenn. — Our retirement journey has taken us to the Country Music Capital of the Known Universe.

That would be Nashville, home of the Grand Ol’ Opry, the Ryman Auditorium, The Hermitage and hordes of people having a good time.

Our campsite was in a ‘burb about 10 miles or so north of the big city. It’s crowded, but the folks on all sides of us are wonderfully nice, accommodating and, in some cases, willing to accept our help when they pull in. We’ve had to move our big ol’ pickup a couple of times to make room.

One of the RV campsite owners ventured by to ask if there’s anything she could do. I said no. We were fine. But I asked: “Do the folks over there, right next to the railroad tracks, get a break because of the train noise?” Her answer: “What train?” which was her way of saying, “Nope, they don’t get a break on the price.”

That’s really all right. We were camped about 200 feet from the tracks and to be candid, by the second night we managed to tune out the roar of the locomotives barreling through on the high-speed tracks.

I’m glad to be shoving off on our way to Washington, D.C., where more adventures await as we visit a couple of family members. Why? This weekend figures to be utter bedlam in Music City, where Nashville is playing host to two huge events: the Country Music Awards festival downtown and Game 6 of the Stanley Cup playoff between the Nashville Predators and the Pittsburgh Penguins.

We ventured down there with friends we met here on a weekday afternoon, with people still at work. I’m trying to fathom the chaos that will ensue on Friday night — and then the next night when they play that hockey game at the arena downtown.

I’m going to pray for them all.

Meanwhile, our adventure continues — elsewhere.