It Was Bound to Happen

Another summer slipped away, leaving me stuck in a land of endless summer and indecision. The heat and humidity were unbearable, and the stench of low tide and the strong sun in the late afternoon made it difficult to find a place to escape. After a half-hour, I was reminded of the unpleasant smell of decay, the roar of traffic on the road just fifty feet away, and the reckless jet skis running wild with unqualified riders enjoying their thirty-minute rentals. This was not the getaway I had imagined, so I reluctantly returned to the car and made a promise to myself to come up with a real escape.

I decided to talk to one of my oldest friends, my college roommate, who reminded me that I was too old for a road trip and that 95 was a mess. It seemed like he had given up on the idea. The prospect of driving 1,200 miles didn’t help matters either. I thought about Montana, or Denver and the Rockies!

How about the Blue Ridge? Close enough to drive in a day and only Atlanta stood in the way. Maybe go to the Keys and try for some tarpon or snook, road there is a problem and place is full of adult delinquents. Nothing beat drunk and crazy middle age Floridians. Mmm, not sure what I'd expected. 

My body was in full rebellion, and I desperately needed a tune-up. I needed to work on everything, including my attitude. This old dog still had a bit more fight in him, and I needed to get off the off-ramp and out of this rutted road. I had to find the fun tube!