Just when we’ve sadly declared bike season over and have shifted our focus to snowmobiling, we embark on a road trip to Florida to visit family, a momentary glimpse back into the heavenly summer days. I make plans to visit several times a year, but this came up 
a bit suddenly, and we took the opportunity we were given to get out of town for a week in the sunshine. Our arms did not need twisting. Driving, as Bill is not a fan of airplanes, we set out on Sunday morning, November 7th. (Couldn’t miss the A-1 Swap and Show that weekend!) We headed south on I-75 in our 1965 Chevy Impala, and we felt a little like Sam and Dean on our next Supernatural demon chase, complete with the smell of sulphur as we cruised through the Smokies in Tennessee. The car ran great except for a small oil leak coming from the valve cover grommet, and it used a couple quarts along the way. I took this picture of the reflection in the center of the wheel of a semi, somewhere in Kentucky.
I installed Google Maps on my Blackberry, and we navigated our way down as we didn’t bring a map or atlas. We knew it was pretty much I-75 all the way down until we were about 45 minutes from my Dad’s house in Florida. Google Maps worked great, showing our location, construction and accident alerts, and of course comments from other Google Buzz users. We used it to find hotels and restaurants, our most recent favorite find being Cracker Barrel. Like Perkins, there are MANY more of these restaurants through Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, etc., yet just one in our neck of the woods, and it’s still 45 minutes away. I fell in love with their Steak Salad with Peppercorn dressing (from the low carb menu) and Bill’s eyes rolled back in his head when he sampled their cornbread. He claimed it was exactly like the cornbread he had growing up, the kind he’d arm wrestle his cousin over.
We stayed in Lake City, TN on Sunday night and got back on the road the next morning on a gorgeous, sunny Monday. It was shaping up to be a great day for a road trip, and the only thing missing was our bikes. There was still a good amount of color left in the trees, bright reds and yellows, and our trip south would also extend our fall season for a day or two. I longed to reach Florida where I’d heard it was going to be in the 80s all week.
By the time we’d reached Atlanta it had warmed up considerably, and we cruised through downtown amidst the high rises with the windows down, enjoying this beautiful summerlike day. It was hard to believe it was November 8th, and the Christmas decorations were already out. My hair was in knots later, but I’ll never forget that moment. This all came literally to a screeching halt when we were stopped just north of Macon, Georgia, in what would become, I kid you not, a three hour traffic jam. THREE HOURS. Three lanes of traffic, gridlocked as far as you could see. CB radios are a great way to keep tabs on highway happenings, through trucker comments over the airwaves. We didn’t have one, I hadn’t yet discovered that Google Maps showed construction alerts. I asked a trucker in the next lane if he knew anything, to which he replied, “They’re stroppen the hahway”. “Okay, thanks!” I looked over at Bill. “What?” I realized after a minute he’d said, “striping the highway”, or re-painting the white and yellow lines. Ah.. Gotcha. Luckily it wasn’t terribly hot out and the car did not overheat before we were moving again.
We didn’t reach our destination until 11pm that night, and got to spend the next four days with our family. The weather was perfect all week, clear and sunny, in the mid 80s. Bill had never seen the ocean before, and on Friday we set out for Port Canaveral, a place I’d camped growing up, for many, many summers. Jetty Park is a campground in Port Canaveral, right on the Atlantic Ocean. There is a shipping channel alongside the beach, and several major cruise lines have taken residence there over the years. The jetty, made up of huge boulders, extends several hundred feet out into the water and is where years ago, we would carefully make our way out, fishing pole in one hand, tackle box in the other, hopping from one huge rock to the next. The rocks also line the parking area, where over the years we saw many things pulled out of the salt water, including a hammerhead shark, an electric eel, and yes, a small octopus.
Today, there is a fishing pier that runs alongside the rocks, a great place to fish and watch the ships leave and return. As we walked along the pier, I recalled a time I was here with my sister, a few years ago. She’d peered into a bucket of one of the folks fishing which contained a few small fish and commented to me, “Wow, they’re not having much luck today”. I looked at her, smiling, she looked at me, smiled and said, “Oh. That was bait, wasn’t it?”
The last time I’d camped here was 1986, and the park has changed so much since then. Every time I come to Florida, I try to make it a point to return to this place that holds so many memories of summers gone by. Today the wind was blowing hard off the ocean as we walked out to the end of the pier, spotting a few sea turtles as they’d poke their heads through the surface. Pelicans flocked to the jetty, perching on the rocks while others bobbed in the waves. After a while, we continued on to Rusty’s Seafood and Oyster Bar for lunch, a very cool bar restaurant right on the pier. We ate, watched the boats go in and out of the channel, and boaters come and go as they docked their boats outside the restaurant. Before heading home, we toured through the cruise ports to get a look at the monstrous ships as they waited to set sail, full of passengers. The Love Boat theme song ran through my head as I snapped pictures, wishing that we’d had a chance to see one make it’s way past the fishing pier we’d just come from.
Saturday morning came too soon, and we said our goodbyes after a wonderful four day visit and headed back home. Again we stayed in Lake City, TN, and drove through a bit of rain all through the Smokies, but the skies cleared up as we cruised north. In Kentucky and Tennessee, we kept an eye out for Mingua Beef Jerky, sold at gas stations along our way. Like many, we love to carry beef jerky with us on bike trips and this by far is our favorite brand, besides the kind we make ourselves. Every trip south we make, whether by car or motorcycle, we scan the gas stops for Mingua. Aside from a slight mishap in Tipp City, OH, where we lost an exhaust hanger, it was a pretty smooth jaunt for a 45 year old car. A muffler clamp and a spool of wire later, we were back on the road.
As I write this, the sun is setting on the fields just north of Findlay, OH, and the air is considerably colder. Though I’m excited to start the snowmobile season and all the plans we’ve made before we left, nothing compares to bright sunshine, warm sand under your bare feet, the summer breeze in your hair, and the roar of your bike.