Bill's picture of me in Hollywood Florida.
This was the first big trip. Later there would be others.
The BedroomMy plan was to finish the front bedroom before the trip. I would get rid of or relocate Brenda’s stuff, rip up the old carpeting and expose the hardwood floor, and shift bedroom furniture as needed. I wanted to at least spend a few nights in these refurbished quarters before leaving. I hoped that I would feel better although I no longer remembered what that sensation might be like.
It didn't make any difference.
It was a visit with ghosts from times gone byIn seven days I stayed in four motels and hotels and two houses. I met one large dog, five cats (two of whom didn't emerge from under their owner's bed) and 10 people. I drove about 1,700 miles at speeds up to 90 MPH and almost got killed in Miami by a speeding Porsche. I saw the place where Al Pacino as Scarface was threatened by the chainsaw-wielding drug traffickers. I went to many areas where English was the second language. I saw Ferrari's, Bentley's, Lamborghini's and Freightliner pick-up trucks. In Phenix City I saw a hill full of ancient shark teeth and in Palm Beach I rode down a lane cut through a huge stone outcropping, like a canyon in paradise.
Death Trip
Of course it was a death trip. Any trip involving older people who may never see one another again is a death trip. Hell, (I observe with bravado) even a going-away lunch for a departing co-worker is a death lunch insofar as there are people who may never see one another again. But in this case there were the inevitable health issues. Everybody was getting older (except maybe Bill Moore - or so it seemed) and getting old is rear-guard action which can only be prolonged, never won. Bill swears I didn't have a pale companion hovering just out of sight behind my left shoulder. But I have seen the pictures. (Hell, in that B/W picture taken in Hollywood I could be DEATH.
The Idea
The Florida trip took place in February of 2010. I don’t remember where I was when the idea came to me. Everything seemed possible because nothing seemed to matter. Everything was the same. I contacted cousin Joe Hunt in Phenix City Alabama, friend Bill Moore in Hollywood Florida, and friend Joe Gettys in West Palm Beach Florida. They said “Sure come on.”The BedroomMy plan was to finish the front bedroom before the trip. I would get rid of or relocate Brenda’s stuff, rip up the old carpeting and expose the hardwood floor, and shift bedroom furniture as needed. I wanted to at least spend a few nights in these refurbished quarters before leaving. I hoped that I would feel better although I no longer remembered what that sensation might be like.
It didn't make any difference.
It was a visit with ghosts from times gone byIn seven days I stayed in four motels and hotels and two houses. I met one large dog, five cats (two of whom didn't emerge from under their owner's bed) and 10 people. I drove about 1,700 miles at speeds up to 90 MPH and almost got killed in Miami by a speeding Porsche. I saw the place where Al Pacino as Scarface was threatened by the chainsaw-wielding drug traffickers. I went to many areas where English was the second language. I saw Ferrari's, Bentley's, Lamborghini's and Freightliner pick-up trucks. In Phenix City I saw a hill full of ancient shark teeth and in Palm Beach I rode down a lane cut through a huge stone outcropping, like a canyon in paradise.
Death Trip
Of course it was a death trip. Any trip involving older people who may never see one another again is a death trip. Hell, (I observe with bravado) even a going-away lunch for a departing co-worker is a death lunch insofar as there are people who may never see one another again. But in this case there were the inevitable health issues. Everybody was getting older (except maybe Bill Moore - or so it seemed) and getting old is rear-guard action which can only be prolonged, never won. Bill swears I didn't have a pale companion hovering just out of sight behind my left shoulder. But I have seen the pictures. (Hell, in that B/W picture taken in Hollywood I could be DEATH.
Death Car
Regarding that business with the Porsche. Maybe I did exaggerate. Maybe not. Bill was driving (with brio and panache) his wife's Mercedes around a long sweeping curve at the end of I-95 in Miami when the Porsche appeared out of no where. If everybody had stayed the course he (she?) would have hit us somewhere between the right front fender and my door. The closing speed was certainly over 100 MPH. But Bill and the Porsche both twitched and we passed with feet to spare. It happened so fast there wasn't time to be afraid. (My one impression - not a thought - was that Bill's car was going to get messed up.)
Hotels/MotelsLying down on king sized beds in front of innocuous TV shows (for some reason I found myself watching old episodes of NCIS) was like taking a drug which wiped my mind clean until I woke up at 4:00 or 5:00 anticipating the next day's adventure. It was not until later that I had sleep apnea episodes and sometimes woke up really confused.
Structured TripThis was not a free-form wander. I had to show up in Phenix City on Saturday, Lakeland on Tuesday, and West Palm Beach on Thursday. In most cases I followed directions provided by the nice lady in the GPS device - or when that was not available, at least a route suggested by Google Maps. I had hoped to get lost in the trip, just me, the Subaru and the rhythm of the road. That only happened on twisty segments of interstate going through Atlanta, Miami and Jacksonville - when I was lost in unease and anxiety. The other kind of lost might require a different trip - sans schedule, sans interstate, sans cities, sans GPS - where I really allow myself to get lost.
Hotels/MotelsLying down on king sized beds in front of innocuous TV shows (for some reason I found myself watching old episodes of NCIS) was like taking a drug which wiped my mind clean until I woke up at 4:00 or 5:00 anticipating the next day's adventure. It was not until later that I had sleep apnea episodes and sometimes woke up really confused.
Structured TripThis was not a free-form wander. I had to show up in Phenix City on Saturday, Lakeland on Tuesday, and West Palm Beach on Thursday. In most cases I followed directions provided by the nice lady in the GPS device - or when that was not available, at least a route suggested by Google Maps. I had hoped to get lost in the trip, just me, the Subaru and the rhythm of the road. That only happened on twisty segments of interstate going through Atlanta, Miami and Jacksonville - when I was lost in unease and anxiety. The other kind of lost might require a different trip - sans schedule, sans interstate, sans cities, sans GPS - where I really allow myself to get lost.
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