One year ago today: December 24, 2015, our “base of operations” theory.
Five years ago today: December 24, 2011, money on a governmental scale.
Nine years ago today: December 24, 2007, the largest Mexican landowner.
Random years ago today: December 24, 2009, me, lamenting poverty.
MORNING
It was more than an hour after sunrise before I got out of Miami. That city never takes too long to remind people of the reason they left. Lighter traffic on a holiday does not imply the drivers are any better. By 8:30-ish AM, I was westbound on Highway 41, better known as Tamiami Trail..You can follow along on a map, I’ll give you enough details. Because I know some of you poor saps were stuck with family when you’d rather be anywhere else. Just past the 12-mile curve, there is a Loop Road that goes south a bit and head west to rejoin the highway at Monroe Station.
Except for this black alligator, I mean. Look closely and you can see him at center, just reaching the grass on roadside left. Yep, that’s him, mostly tail. His head is just peeking above the grass. Jet black is unusual, the more likely color is a mottled green, kind of what you’d expect.
The picture was artificially lightened to reveal more detail. The actual path is shady as shown in this second photo. I had 766 miles on the odometer so I can see how far I travel to get 250 miles today. My average highway speed was up near 65 mph with very little traffic until I got past Immokalee. This road is just south of Monroe Station, or the site where it used to sit. I’ll always be convinced that was arson.
This empty track cuts through the Miccosukkee reservation for several miles. The houses are built up on mounds, which I find amusing because even the alligators have to build hammocks to live in that swamp. The Honda has another quirk, in that the reserve setting seems to simply balance the two lobes of the way the tank wraps around the frame. I got only 33 miles out of tank full before I had to switch it on. What, you want to hear more about the Rebel. Sure.
It is the 450 motor on the 250 frame, but retains also the 250 size tank. That means plenty of pulling over to fill up. The normal range seems to be just 100 miles and that Honda motor gets thirsty at higher speeds. Hence the tank gets drained all that much more often. I wasn’t ready for that, but appreciate the chance to stretch my legs frequently.
At the 840 mile mark I passed the Ochobee post office, see below. That gets me out of the Miami no-fly zone, the roads that needlessly have low posted speed limits for miles beyond the city limits that serve no purpose but to create speeders. At 11:20AM, I had to switch tanks, leading me to believe the system is unreliable, that is, just fill up every time it sputters dry. Until I get used to it or figure it out.
Trivia. Time magazine says somebody paid $620,000 for a parking space in Hong Kong. That’s the town where it is all demand, no supply. The person that bought it no doubt owns Miami real estate. The authorities never ask foreigners where they got the money. Strange, that.
Typical New York slum.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
NOON
Stopping only for gas at Immokalee, I headed northwest to find that shortcut JZ and I could not locate a year ago. That’s to prevent having to take the freeway around Ft. Meyers, a segment of the southbound journey I did not care for. It’s called Gunnery Road, then turns into Buckingham. It’s clearly marked and all the roads have the same name as the map, tipping us off we are not near Miami. I got it first try from glancing at that map nearly a week ago. Feeling limber, I backtracked to Alva to view that house JZ super-liked, but was priced at twice its value.
I had my thermos, so I didn’t’ stay, but it is now on my road map. The Old Olga Mall. This picture is not a view of one shop in the mall. It is the entire mall. Down the road to the Alva canal bridge, where I see the house is sold. There’s an RV in the back so I didn’t snap you a photo. Um, the house is being fixed up, but they are not doing anywhere near as nice a job of it as I am on mine. They must be trying to level it by hand or by eye. The siding is only nice in the front. Why would somebody spend so much on a place and do such sloppy work? No, it’s not because they spent all the money. The things I’m referring to are the labor, they aren’t putting in the labor.
Next, I headed back toward Arcadia, again having to stop for gas. I found out the hard way the road to Parrish is only marked on the west side, I missed it and had to go through Arcadia. But an incident worth mentioning was how I asked the gas station for directions. He gets out his smart phone, and I should have said thanks at that point and walked away. To be polite, I stood there four or five minutes while he did the finger-dance on the gorilla glass. My God, you stupid Millennials, you obviously don’t know how backward you are heading. It doesn’t take five minutes to look up any map on a computer, but you people don’t know any better.
And, he got it wrong anyway. I turned west at the Arcadia Wal*Mart and drove to the crossroads and north to Lake Placid. I don’t know any area of the town except the main street to that family restaurant. So I trusted my nose and just blindly turned down several country roads on the east side. Bingo, found the place on the third try. People don’t believe I can do this until they see it. It was already late in the day, so I only stayed for a couple cold ones. Five times the size of my spread, that’s an awful lot of house and yard for a single lady. Her older brother was there, an old motorcycle pro. He thinks I paid the right price for the Rebel—had it been in primo shape. I got to Lake Placid just after 2:15PM. So this is no high-speed trip.
It was just 51 miles more until the fuel reserve had to be switched again. It makes sense if I was right that the fuel outlet is on one side of the tank, and all the reserve does is fill it from the other side. But this is not a way one can predict the mileage very well. That is, you get varying reserve gas depending on how much the fluid was sloshed around a little earlier.
Here’s shot of the site where the Monroe Station burned. The Rebel is in the front parking lot. I may have photos with the Caddy, if they turn up, you’ll get them. I still have no “clean room” to set up the master computer.
“How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away?”
NIGHT
Not wanting to drive at night and not being the type that drops in to crash on Xmas Eve, I left Lake Placid at speed and go through Sebring on an amazing two red lights. North to the Ft. Meade turn, the shadows were getting long. It’s the nicer road than Zolfo Springs, but you have to contend with Sebring in the way. Did you know Sebring is rated the lowest per capita income in the United States? (Sorry, Detroit, that statistic only includes people working for a living.)
Alas, no pics of the gals, but I’ll describe the best one. I still haven’t bothered to learn the name of those lace-hemmed shorts making the rounds, that’s what she was wearing. And she knew she had perfect legs. Came up to my waist at least. I mean, they were all uptown works of art, and there I was dusty after ten hours on the trail. That’s right, I averaged only 25 mph today.
First, here is a picture. This is the men’s can at Churchill’s. They save a fortune on paint letting the goofs deface the wall. It’s all generic graffiti, same as you could find on any subway in the land. It is monotonously unoriginal, but that gets back to our repugnant education system. It’s like the Hindu way, where if you can’t be innovative, then substitute constant repetition.
Back to the gals. They were evidently an insular group, so I didn’t swoop. I know exactly what to say to find out if a gal has any foolish resistance to older men. But instead I admired those shorts peripherally. I’ll tell you what she looked like. I’m going to assume everybody, including myself, has seen porno movies where the “actress” plays a preppy, stuffy schoolteacher or librarian, until some studly gets her to pull the pins out of her hair. Well, guys, that’s what this one looked like, right up to the horn-rimmed glasses. JZ would have been driven insane.
Myself, I drove home, on the way noticing the other club was open. What? On Xmas Eve? I dropped in to find I was the only customer since noon. I caught up on the gossip since I was away, it’s the usual. Then home in a jiffy, nothing like a good hot bath after a road trip like that. I almost fell asleep in the tube. There was an occurrence, of sorts. One of the other ladies who used to work there noticed I didn’t have my scribbler and asked if everything was okay. Sure, I said, I’m just tired. She said something that shows she must have thought I was lonely to be alone on December 24th?
Essentially she asked me why I never got married again, not the sort of thing I discuss with strangers. (She’s married.) But, dear reader, I’ll tell you. Marriage? Where I promise some lady I will love her and only her for the rest of her life no matter what? I’m not that dishonest.
More trivia. Today in 1966, the Russian spacecraft “Luna 13” landed on the Moon. I don’t recall if landed or crashed into it. I sure remember the crisis it causes, the Russians are winning. Around the same time, American’s started scoring a lot of firsts. The pace was frantic and everybody knew, or thought, the Russian program was militaristic, while the Americans had NASA. You know, I may have quoted inaccurate data here. I had read an official type book that said the Winter Solstice was the day the sun began to rise after 6:00AM.
According to the Almanac, that is not the case at all. The sun should also on that day begin to rise earlier toward the Spring Equinox. The Almanac says that is also not a fact. Let me think on that a bit. Is there an explanation I can figure out before I look that up?
ADDENDUM
Here is the proof that the odometer has been turned back on the Rebel. I won’t specify, but the way to spot it is clear in this photo. Some of you know what to look for, and there it is. It had moved around a hundred miles past 13,000 when I bought the unit, so it was not a evident as it is here. It is the way the most significant digit, the 1, does not line up with the remaining tumblers.
I left Miami at 8:10AM and arrived back here at 5:50PM, making this single trip a total of 826 miles. Most of the extra mileage was around Miami, a town where you cannot really live without a vehicle. And they know it. My average speed from Miami to Lakeland was thus 33 mph, but that’s total time, not travel time. I was actually on the road 6.5 hours and traveled 330 miles, which is just over 50 mph and matches my traditional habits. That’s driving habits, guys, I have not smoked a cigarette since 2003. Once thought about it, though.
So, how was your Christmas Eve?
Last Laugh
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