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Towards the end of yesterday's drive, two
weeks of almost continual driving started to
take their toll on me. I pulled a muscle that
made my shoulder and neck feel like a hot steel
bar was being driven through them. The only time
that I have ever experienced such intense pain
was when I came off a bike and dislocated my
shoulder. This may go some way to explaining why
I was not so enthusiastic about the miles of
countryside I had covered.
Today I awoke after a largely sleepless
night. But thankfully, some of the fire had been
extinguished in my left shoulder. I clambered in
to the car, took a deep breath and set off.
I had arrived in
Bradenton when it was
almost dark and as a result had not seen the
local vegetation. Now that I did, I realised
that the area had a far more tropical look to it
than the costline at my entry point to the
state. There were palms, fig trees and banana
plants. As I neared
Port
Charlotte I started
getting a little frustrated at the
Sunday
Drivers. Gradually I
noticed that the worst of them were actually
quite senior in their years ... And then I
started to recall all the Retirement
Resorts and Homes For
The Elderly that I had driven by,
between Panama City and
this point. How come it did not strike me as
unusual yesterday? There must be literally
hundreds of them! Is this the Florida equivalent
of the Elephant's
Graveyard?
Then, just as my mood was lifting, I
drove through Solana
and felt that tell-tail grating vibration from
the rear driver's side wheel. A flat! And in the
one tire that had not been replaced in
Needles! As always,
when disaster strikes fortune shines on other
things. In this case it was that I was right
next to a gas station. So I pulled in, removed
the tire and marveled at how a four-inch steel
pin, had gone straight in to the tire near the
wall and then exited on the inside rim when it
buried itself into the wheel. I lugged out the
spare. It is one of those "skinny" spares, that
is about half the width of the real thing, and
can only be used to get to the nearest new tire.
The guy at the gas station put it on for me. I
threw the flat in the passenger seat. (It would
not fit in the trunk because it is full of
bags.) Another fortunate thing is that this tire
had a "Hazards Waver Warranty" associated with
it. This meant that if I could find a
Firestone dealership in
the next city, they would replace the dead tire
for the price of the amount of wear I had put on
it. Fort Myers was only
down the road ,and there was a Firestone center
on the 41. So, again, luck was now with me.
Fortunate as all this was, it still meant that I
lost upwards of three hours driving time.
While the terribly nice guys at the tire
center did their stuff, I wandered up and down
the 41. This area was South of Fort Myers
proper. It is one of those satellite shopping
areas designed to be accessed by car. To get
from one side of the 41 to the other you have to
cross three lanes that run in each direction,
and even if you stay on the same side of the
street, you have to be very careful that no one
is turning into the parking lot that you are
crossing. This is made even more dangerous
because there are no side-walks or pedestrian
crossings.
I was glad to get the car back with a
clean bill of health, the area was a little
short of "points of interest".
After looking at my guide books and map,
I decided that the road between Fort Myers and
Key West held little
that I wanted to stop for. Sure, it would have
been nice to take a trip through the
Everglades - on one one
of those boats with the big fans on the back ...
But I had already had my fill of 'gators in
Louisiana.
So, I topped up the gas tank and floored
it. I felt a strange glee as the result of
committing to this goal.
At Napels, the
terrain suddenly changed from tropical beaches
to swamp. The road became flanked by palms in
reed beds that stretched out for as far as the
eye could see. This was
Collier, just one
section of the Everglades. It is the sort of
area that just can not be captured adequately on
film or in words. Even Panovision falls short of
the real thing. Driving though this immenseness,
makes you feel very small. I was like a small
black ant running for its life across the picnic
blanket. Overhead hawks of some sort drew
parallel with me before plunging into the
greenery after some meaty morsel.
Roughly three hours later I was at the
first of the keys, Key
Largo. But I did not stop. Route
one chased the sun over the crimson horizon, and
I followed ... all the way though these
incredible tropical islands. The air was still
warm and full of floral scents. And this is just
spring. Summer must be unbearably hot.
Eventually the sign read Route 1 End. I had made
it.
Key West looks like it is
still in party mode. There was a solid stream of
cars leaving The Keys. But the historic downtown
area was throbbing with music and people. The
motel that I found lodging in is a perfect
example of deco decadence - as are many of its
neighbors. Next door the Aids Benefit is just
winding down and the last straddlers are
wobbling off on their heels, wigs under arms or
slung over shoulders. Those not in drag simply
trying to maintain composure for long enough to
flag a cab.
The sea is at the end of the building,
where the road just melds with white sandy beach
and gradually slopes off below the lapping
waters.
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