Ft. Myers, FL-Newark, NJ-Denver, CO 11/18 4107 flying miles; incidental walking

The Tale of the tape:

160.5  bike riding miles

625.3 walking miles

7,321 driving miles

4 tent camps

44 motel/hotel stays

5 nights @ John Logue/Braintree, MA

5 nights @ Kamp Keberle

3 nights @ Bronx Keberle

2 nights @ Dennis/Susie Pearsall/ Spring Lake Heights, NJ

1 night @ Kirk/Shannon Franz/ Cummings, GA

8 glorious nights with our lovely wives/Charleston, SC/Savannah, GA

1 night @ David/Donna Kent/Bartow, FL

Total days: 74

The rest of the tale will come in random recollections, capricious artificial categories, mind farts, bursts of inspiration, and whatever ADHD induced blather that foams out.

Best Hotel: Mrytle Beach-off season $

Worst Motel: Carolina/Duke-stench $$

Most Common Motel-Red Roof Inn

Best Overall Accommodation- Charleston

Best Overall Restaurant-Hominy Grill

Best Just Boys Breakfast-Biscuit Head

Worst Breakfast-Airport Plaza, Roanoke

Most Scenic Driving-Blue Ridge Parkway

Most Fun Back Road-Shooting Creek Road

Most Difficult Driving-Atlanta in the rain.

Second place-Dense fog on the parkway.

Most Enjoyable Mountain Driving-Along the Creeper Trail

Turn-a-Rounds-More than a few

Longest walk-Brooklyn

Best Nature Walk-Upstate New York

Avergage daily walking miles-9.5

Very Best Human-Chip Kent who dropped from the sky like an angel on the day Ed's heart went kerfuffel. He gave up his whole day to help us, offered us his home, and whatever else we may have needed.

Best Friend-John Logue, who not only drove out from Braintree to Ayer to rescue us, but also suffered a five day invasion.

Most Inspiring Historical Figure-George Marshall whose abilities as a conciliator and world visionary after World War Two amazes me now that I've been reminded of the details of the Marshall Plan: $13B price tag, 16 countries involved, untold benefits in terms of good will.

Most Moving Civil War site-Andersonville

Most Depressing Civil War site- Gettysburg-the memory of the carnage is planted like bodies as memorialized by the monuments, monoliths, statues, and plaques.

Most Moving Museum-Marine Corps

Most Beautiful College Campus-Washington and Lee

Most Ostentatious College Campus-Duke

Most Understated College Campus-Harvard

Best Burger-Mr. Bartleby's in Harvard Square where I was also able to connect with my cousin, Joan

Favorite Historical site-Kitty Hawk

Favorite Art-Ben Long Frescos in the mountain churches of West Jefferson and Glendale Springs, NC

Cutest Girls-the Franz girls in Cummings

Funnest Random Teenagers Met-The kids in Brunswick who were conducting an informal survey on four letter word power.

Best Natural View-Chimney Rock, NC

Most Generous Man-Herbert Jones who drove us all over Rocky Mount, VA in his tricked out 1962 Powder Blue Ford Fairline.

Best Coffee and Surprise-Americus, GA where a local businessman has worked out a deal benefial to coffee growers in Guatemala.

Best Music-Floyd Country Store in Floyd, VA

Best Key Lime Pie-Burdine's in Marathon, Fl

Biggest Thrill-Airboat ride in the Everglades

Biggest Shock-Dollywood. We drove through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park only to find the glittering fun zone. It was family Vegas; all glitter minus the bars, gambling, and dancing girls.

Best name for a "best" human-Ulysses

Best Food for Thought-"If your dream doesn't scare you, it's not big enough."

Recurrent Lesson Learned-People are more alike than they're different.

Most Serious Question Contemplated-What right should be common to all people?

Most Inspiring Concept-George Marshall's Defense of his plan: "Our policy is not directed against any country or doctrine but against poverty, hunger, desperation, and chaos. Its purpose shall be the revival of a working economy in the world so as to permit the emergence of political and social conditions in which free institutions can exist."

Fondest Hope-A leader of George Marshall's status will emerge in the present day.

Constant and recurrent belief-Life is good, especially today.

 Tania, the final "best" human whose maun goal is to care for her son. If she can do that, "She's good."

Sunrise in Florida 11/18/15.

Ed's driver striking a pose. No dents, no scratches, no worries.

Ed walking into the "go home" terminal, most likely whistling his favorite tune.

Punta Gorda, FL-Ft. Myers, FL 11/17 86 driving miles; 7.4 walking miles

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

And the dreams that you dreamed of

Once in a lullaby...

By tomorrow we'll be sliding down the rainbow and all of this will be a dream, which will fly back like melting lemon drops warming our cold winter nights with sweet memories. As for today, we began, as usual, with a cup of ambition at the closest Starbucks we could find. Then, like good little Floridians, we headed for the beach, not just any beach, but the best beach: Boca Grande where the sand is soft and the water is blue. We waded into the gulf all the way up to our calves (No shark courage, after all), and wandered around the very well heeled community of Boca Grande where the houses are indeed grand and the people scoot around in electric golf carts. We had a wonderful lunch at the 3rd Street Cafe where sweet young Noreen served us. She is a local girl from the mainland (Not a silver spooner) who said she's building her finances in order to go to Naturopathic school out West in Portland. While she has a ways to go as waitress, I loved her outlook and her effort. At one point in our chat, she dropped her life guiding quote, "What you think is what you attract." I asked her if she really believed that and she replied, "With all my heart." I can imagine all kinds of things about her, but instead I wrote a quote back to her, which of course was, "Life is good, especially today." After lunch, we left sweet Noreen to her own devices and headed South for the final time. We checked into the motel for our last night in Florida, and spent the afternoon musing about the trip: best motel, worst motel, best experience, overall best human, best road, best Civil War site, best meal, worst meal, etc. On the way home I'll write the last blog entry, which will be the "Tale of the Tape".  As Ed says, we see things through a different prism, which basically means we shared a trip, but had individual perceptions. I'm glad we did it, and while Ed's condition changed a bicycle tour into a 7,350 mile driving adventure, it was all for the best. Along the way, we saw much, did more, learned some, and, as Mark Twain posited (paraphrasing), " We scrubbed some of our bias off, shed a few of our bigoted  presuppositions, and grew in our ability to accept fellow humans (Especially each other)." Above all, we're thankful for the opportunity. And as a last word, I think we squeezed the lemon into a pretty sweet glass of lemonade. 

Art shot of the day: Acceptance.

Boca Grande Beach

Sun Worshipers.

As much shark courage as I could muster.

Sweet Noreen.

Have some, Sweetie!

...And I think to myself

What a wonderful world.

 

Sarasota, FL-Punta Gorda, FL 11/16 90 driving miles; 8 walking miles

It's probably a good thing this trip is about to end because if I get to enjoy many more of these fabulously warm and gentle Florida evenings, I may begin practicing a quip I've heard more than once, "I came for a vacation, and I never left." I would seriously consider the proposition if my traveling partner wore a nightie. (Ed won't even get a manicure, so cross dressing may be out of the question). But seriously, we had another good day, even though the search for the morning cup of ambition turned into a Rocky Picture Show. First, we walked to the airport, but the Starbucks was smugly protected behind security. Then, we headed downtown and found a new Starbucks outlet not quite ready to open. Then Susie (The GPS) got into the act when she inexplicably had us looking on the wrong side of the street. Ed was beside himself, bad mouthing Susie, comparing her to that "Nitwit, Siri". Talk about no faith: one half a street error after nearly 7,500 miles, and now she must endure the jittery jeers of Eduardo. Finally, I spied the  Glaring Green Head of the operating Starbucks across the street. I dashed across four lanes of traffic because by this time, Ed was shaking like Charles Bukowski after a bender. (I suggested he might go to coffee rehab when he gets home). Finally, coffee and morning paper in hand, he hid his Jeckyl behind his Hyde, and we were off on the day's adventure, which was to find the Amish section of Sarasota (I really shouldn't be surprised that the Amish would want to winter in Florida, but to see an elderly man in blue overalls with a flowing white beard riding a one speed fat tire bicycle along side a mature woman on her own bike wearing a full length dress and a gingham guaze white hair covering on a busy street in South Forida does seem quite an anomaly). It was more surprising than the Methodist summer tent city we saw in New Jersey some weeks back. We finally found the right Big Olaf's, a really good ice cream shop that would never consider reducing the butter fat content of their product, and for that I am glad. Ed and I enjoyed a generous scoop. We made the decision not to eat at the local Amish restaurant, which was crowded as tour bus after tour bus unloaded. It appeared to be much the same as a place I've enjoyed in Yoder, Kansas. The food looked wonderful, and Ed bought two boxes of goodies to take home. I would have bought some too, but I can't be trusted. Even with the best of intentions, any sweet treat I had wouldn't have made it past the Newark Airport ( And Judy would have smelled the sweet guilt oozing from my pores). We saved our big meal for a repeat dinner at Lashley's Crab House not just because it's quite good, but also because the outdoor ambience overlooking the water is just ever so pleasant. Before dinner we walked the harbor path just before sunset, and we found a very nice outdoor bar where Ed sipped his last Foridian Margarita in the fading sunlight. Two days from now (God willing), he'll be freezing his fanny off wondering what happened. As I said earlier, I'm starting to see what 20,000,000 Floridians see in the place. (Who says I'm a slow learner?) I passed a young woman today at a gas station as I was going in for a restroom stop. I said good morning and asked, "How are you?" She replied, "I'm blessed." That's how I feel, and it's why I conclude each blog entry with, Life is good, especially today.

First "best" human (Dave Jones) is owner of the Big Olaf's in Venice, FL. He gave us the address of the right one. It was a thirty mile Florida turn around. No big deal. We're retired.

Selfie of the day: Rich, creamy ice cream. Oh, my!

Who would have thunk it? Amish marketing.

Sale closed.

Two for one: Hot Rod of the day and another "best" human (Al Chamberlain) who restores cars as a hobby. He's a Jersey boy who came down to Florida for a three week vacation and never left.

Art shot of the day: What's the point of leaving?

Bring a boat. You'll want one.

Ed's new mantra.

A final shot of courage.

Go for that swim, Ed . It's a quick walk off a short pier (Them sharks don't bite).

Clearwater, FL-Sarasota, FL 11/15 100 driving miles; 11.6 walking miles

We started the day with a nice two mile round trip walk to the nearest Starbucks, whete the coffee was up to Ed's lofty standards. Thankfully, the local barista's had had enough of the Christmas music loop and mercifully changed it to a nice Jazz loop. Yesterday, when I made my food run to the local Publix grocery store, there was a Salvation Army bell ringer dressed in her dress blue uniform ringing away for Christmas donations. The only thing missing was the burn barrel to keep her warm, but that was quite unnecessary since it was eighty degrees outside. It's not Christmas in the Florida sunshine that bothers me. Christ was born in the desert climes, after all, but Holy Guacamole! let's at least let the trytophan haze diminish a bit, and maybe a big mash potato, green bean casserole,  sweet potato, excessive alcohol belch escape our gullets before we stuff Christmas down our throats. Some would chide, "TW, you're just a grumpy grinch." Maybe I am a bit grumpy after 70+ days on the road, but my jingle balls (Not a typo, Edgar) are as happily rung as the next guy. For me, it's just a timing thing. I should probably just accept the "year roundness" of commerce, rock back in my easy chair, and lament the loss of days gone by: say, the three sport athlete, the art of conversation, leaders with integrity, quality goods, short term memory (Did I say short term memory?). Well, you get my point. Back to the banal musings of road life. We met our "best" human (Chelsi) in Tarpon Springs at George's Breakfast Station. Having worked in food service a good part of my life, I'm always pleased to see happy excellence in the field. Chelsi was friendly, observant, and efficient. Besides seating customers and working her own tables, she was busy doing what we call "side work". It can be any of the myriad if unseen jobs that are only noticed by the public when they're not done properly (Why is this pepper shaker empty, Miss, or ICK!, this catsup bottle is gross). In this case, Chelsi was busy building silverware settings to be ready for new customers, which flocking in droves to George's. Breakfast was excellent by hash slinging standards, given the fact that Tarpon Springs is an unpretentious community of Greek sponge divers. And one more thing. She was genuinely honored that I thought she was best human. Her joyfulness made me forget about my grinchiness over early Christmas. In fact, I felt guilty having the gaul to complain about anything. After breakfast, we toured the little town of Tarpon Springs, and after quite s bit of walking, ate again (A slippery slope, I know.) at the food court, which was right beside the Sunday street fair. Then we drove the slow way back down the gulf coast, stopping in Anna Maria to see the beach and finally landing in Sarasota for the night. Oh, I almost forgot. We also met Troy and Lynn (Airstream owners) who just yesterday returned from Maine to their home in Tarpon Springs. They are great humans as well. We chatted them up for quite awhile in front of their house. Lynn letme take her photo, although she said no at first. It must have been the warmth Chelsi made me feel that warmed her to the idea. She proudly noted that she wasn't "connected". No smart phone, no Facebook, just a real tactile life. Paper maps and guide books for her. Outdoor painting and acoustic music, too. I felt honored that she acquiesed. To be sure, it was another good day that once again confirmed my core belief that life us good, especially today.

 Chelsi, food service worker supreme!

George's: nothing pretentious, just good plain food.

Selfie of the day: Sponge Docks. They used to run two hundred sponge boats, but due tothe ubiquitous synthetic sponge, less than a dozen go out these days.

In years gone by, would dive for the sponges, clean them, and hang them like necklaces to dry before bringing them to market to sell.

Lynn finally agreed to a photo.

Troy, not so shy, ran into the house to get his hat so he could pose in front of his fish cleaning station. He wanted a cut of the profits. A former commercial fisherman and sponge diver, he's lived in Tarpon Springs his whole life (Our third local).

This thin gruel looked too good to pass up.

This is what mine looked like. Ed had deep fried Grouper with fries.

The beach at Anna Maria.

Ed walking the plank.

Even blow up Santa thinks he should still be napping. Baa. Humbug!

Punta Gorda, FL-Clearwater, FL 125 driving miles; 10 walking miles

Up early, we scampered North eleven miles to the closest Starbucks for our mandatory morning cup of ambition. From there we played with the "big dogs" on I-75 until we turned off for St. Petersburg, which is part of the Tampa Bay area, and where a little over three million Floridians call home. After a little bit of a harrowing passage over the big bridge (High wind warning: +20 knots), we eased into downtown St. Petersburg just after the Saturday market opened. Like most Saturday markets, the people were milling, the wares were selling, the food was cooking, and the bands were rocking. Everything from food to nuts and a little public service was present at the market. We dialed in on a Cuban booth for our breakfast. I had a hot spiced pork sandwich and Ed had a Cuban. We milled with the masses for a while, and if anyone besides me was nervous about being a soft target for nut jobs ( Aka, Paris), they didn't show it. When we'd had our fill of the market, we started to make our way to the Salvador Dali/WC Esher museum. On the way, we chatted up our "best" human of the day. Taylor Malloy, a college age cutie pie, works for the Tampa Bay Rowdies, the area's professional soccer team. She and I matched knee scars as she recently hurt her knee quite badly playing field hockey for the University of Tampa. Originally from Deleware, I got the feeling she's become a Florida girl now. You've heard the story: "I came to South Florida to go fishing, and I never left." Taylor's story might be, "I came to South Florida to play college athletics, but now I'll use my brains and smile to promote professional soccer, and Oh, I might go to the beach once in a while." I'm just making that up. All she and I talked sbout (And very briefly at that) was how short the window is for rehab when it comes to major knee surgery. In fact, she said they may have to go back in to force her knee to extend to full range of motion. Ouch! Obviously, she is a tough ( And very nice) young woman who is doing what I believe exemplifies the American Dream. She is using her talent, initiative, and opportunity to live the best way she can, and what's a little adversity got to do with it? I've seen it quite often on this trip, and all a young lady like Taylor does is confirm my belief that life in America is good, especially today.

Long may she wave. Long live the dream. Tampa Bay in the background.

High winds jostled our car a little, and you can't really tell, but this bridge is gugantic!

From the many choices, we chose the Habana Cafe. Notice Eduardo blending in like a 'gator ready to chomp.

Thin gruel for me.

A Saturday market should (In my mind) include fresh vegetables.

 Taylor, manning her promotional station right in front of the soccer stadium.

Dali has long been one of my favorites, and that's how Ed enticed me to drive in this traffic. They wouldn't allow photos, but they have a large collection of Dali's work (Also WC Esher). It's all incredible.

 The foyer.

I had to confine myself to selfies in the mirror.

I call this one: "Bug Eyes".

Mirror, Mirror on the wall, is it all about me after all?

Art shot of the day: Triangle, a tessellating dream. 

Florida City, FL-Punta Gorda, FL 11/13 200 driving miles; 7 walking miles

Despite the ear shattering fire alarm that went off at 3:30 AM, this motel ranks second on the overall list, bouyed as it was by an excellent in house breakfast and most of all, a Starbucks very near by. After the morning cup of ambition, we made our way to the Everglades for our air boat ride at the Miccosuki Indians  spot called Buffalo Tigers Airboat Rides. Our guide, the first "best" human of the day, Eric, gave us a private ride that included a little speed, a little circular whoop-de-doo, a little alligator petting, and quite a bit of good conversation and information, once again showed that people with pride and excellence can survive wherever they may be. He grew up on the rez and has been giving airboat rides since he was thirteen. The ride he gave us was beyond any expectations I brought with me, and I've wanted to ride on one of these boats for quite some time. After we had our thrill ride and our 'gator fix, we made our way North to check on returning the rental car next Wednesday morning. Satisfied with the ease of that process, we carried on with the epilogue of our trip. We ended up in Punta Gorda, a little not quite gulf town nestled beside the Peace River and Charlotte Bay. The lady at the motel recommended Lashley's Crab House for dinner where we dined on the kind of thin gruel we've become accustomed to. We so soft now, some fisherman may mistake us for soft shell crabs and try to boil us for soup. Our waittress, Abby, a young mother of two and our second local of the trip, counts as second "best" human of the day. She has lived here all her life, and now she and her husband are raising their family here. You know, folks, that's all you get here in America: a chance to carve whatever you can out of the dream. It really doesn't matter if you're a tinker, a tailor, or a candlestick maker. The real point is to love life and live a life worth living. At dinner, we learned that there was a high school football game in town tonight, which is one of Ed's fond hopes for this trip. He said more than once, "I hope to see a high school football game in the South." Well, he was so excited when he found out, he almost soiled himself. We immediately turned ourselves into Tarpon fans, though  the Tarpons (10-0) on the season, had little trouble with their opponents, the Osceola Warriors. We did meet a proud father of one if the star players (Frank Thomas). His son, Stantley, caught six balls in the first half alone, one for a 59 yard touchdown and another for a touchdown to end the half. For him, for the home team, for the home fans, and for us, life us good, especially today.

Just another morning in paradise.

Home of the Miccosuki Indians. Their land currently encompasses 470 square miles, which is down from 1,000 square miles. I'm not sure of the dynamics, but Eric and his people are working land hard to protect it.

Eric, Ed (Demoted to 'gator bait), and me.

You think?

Eric said don't touch the tongue. If so, the jae snaps shut instantly with 3,000 lbs./sq. in.

 Eric touched this guy, who he called "No Tail" (9' long without the tail, which was bitten off by a rival), on the nose.

He touched him on the brain.

He tickled his chin. Wow!

Taken while traveling about thirty through the grass.

Maybe you can tell by Ed's hair.

Great vistas in the swamp.

Come on in. Water's fine.

Eric stopped the boat a few timed to explain things and answer our questions. Just excellent.

Art shot of the day: Gator bait.

Maybe this is more enticing?

The airboat.

Abby, server of the thin gruel.

Fish spread and crackers.

She Crab Soup.

Scallops, beans, and risotto.

Frank Thomas, proud dad of Stantley.

The National anthem.

The home team coming out onto the field.

Selfie of the day: On the Shark Valley boardwalk.

It was a nice day, Lily.