We spent two glorious days in their company and they couldn’t have been more gracious hosts. Tom and I traded a site for a photo shoot opportunity, hoping that some of my work could help market the campground for them in the next brochure. We feasted with a small group in the social hall on Thanksgiving leftovers, met some new folks and chatted until the late hours. The next day Robin and I set out for some photo work, explored the campground, made a food run to Walmart. Tom and Nancy have completely turned this campground around for the better. Anyone traveling up and down I 95  needs to mark this as a waypoint. The campground is easy off and on, being a mere 1/2 mile from the interstate. All the sites are flat, graveled, well maintained with aesthetics that are pleasing to the eye. They make you feel as if your royalty when you enter the office and it is in evidence very much that the customers well being is the main tenet of operations here. Saturday night we were hosted at the site of John and Yuko for another round of “tales around the fire”. Hitting me like a Louisville Slugger, it was then I realized again what makes this life so special.  We’ve done it in two dozen states, amid a vast amount of differing flora and foliage, under stars and moonlit skies.

The fire is always brilliant orange and hot, the names of the people are changed from one venue to another but the stories, the laughter, the camaraderie is always “the holy grail” that we seek. Cynthia and Jim joined in and as the stories unfolded I had to laugh at the common thread that ran thoughout every get together by the fire. They’re all the same and yet, each one different. We left amid morning hugs and kisses, Tom and Nancy proving hosts hard to leave. But we’ll return. On our journey north to Christmas with the children, we’ll stop again and spend some time. Thank you, my friends, for just being you. 

Xavier seems to be in ‘good’ hands!

I had been hankering for a diversion. I get bored easily and I’d had enough fishing and lying poolside for awhile. I thought it would be a nice trip to Segway the town of Cedar Key. I had been there a few weeks ago on my own but Robin needed to see what drew me to the area. We arrived at the Low Key Hideaway, managed by friends Pat and Cindy Bonish. I have followed their blog, “Every Miles A Memory” for sometime now and wanted to share some photo chat with them. They both possess excellent photographic skills. Pat allowed us to park in his drive while we motored around the peninsula. Our first destination was to head to the old Cedar Key cemetery as I heard about the young horned owls nestled in the treetops within the graveyard. We did spot a few osprey along with the baby owls but mother was no where to be seen. We then headed out to airport road checking on some waterfront property. We were able to view something that caught our eye but it was way out of our price range. Heading back into town my Segway died. Apparently I hadn’t charged it up for a few days and the battery just gave way. I borrowed Robin’s and headed back to the car while she waited roadside with my powerless man-carrier. Upon retrieving her we headed for some sustenance as we hadn’t eaten so far today. We parked at the wharf and headed to the Big Deck Raw Bar, and filled our bellies with wings, pulled pork and fries. We chatted with some other tourists from  Michigan, relishing in the fact that we were all enjoying sunshine that is so sorely missed up north.

“Magoo and Mouse McKee”

While heading out I overheard two gentleman at the bar speaking of Pennsylvania. The two fellows indeed were from the Keystone state, asking as well  of our hometown. It was then that “Magoo” and “Mouse” McKee, brothers in more than arms,  told us they were from Washington, PA., a mere seven miles down the road from our hometown. The more we talked, the greater we found similar interests as well as knowing some of the same people. We spent another twenty minutes with them, laughing heartily and fondly reminiscing of “back in the day”. We left them with hugs and handshakes, mesmerized in the fact that here we were, 12oo miles from home and by happenstance meeting two people from just down the road. Magoo (real name Harry) even made a point to let me know his auto was parked just in front of mine proudly boasting the six time Super Bowl champs. We then headed back to the Low Key Hideway as Pat had opened the Tiki Bar our back and I wanted Robin to take in the ambiance of such a place. We would have loved to be able to imbibe until the sun set but Brutus had been holed up all day. We did get back by dusk and I was able to snap a shot of the setting sun going down on the Suwanee once again. Enjoy todays slideshow. It’s not like being there but hopefully it can bring a smile to your face.

This was our wake up call a few mornings ago.

After being greeted to this glorious sunrise, things started to change drastically for us. We were looking at a three hour ride to the Orlando airport but enroute were interrupted by Williston’s finest. Doing thirty-nine in a twenty-five zone landed me a yellow slip, which will cost me three hundred dollars within the next month. This put me in a bit of a funk as I pondered what I might be able to buy with that money. Things I was depriving myself of in an order to save some money. Hopefully, this would be the end of our misfortune. We continued on our trek. We had business in PIttsburgh. The skies of western Pennsylvania greeted us with their incessant gray and cloud cover. It’s amazing what the sun can do to one’s psyche. It was long after arrival that the sinuses started playing havoc as they did for decades while living in southwestern Pennsylvania. By the early evening, conversation became nasal and the ability to breathe properly was again in check. Over the next three days we would take care of banking, real estate, and tax issues that were pressing. It would be a relief to alleviate these items from that mental box of “pressing worries”. A smattering of kibitzing and feasting with siblings and best friends made the next few days not only palatable, but heart warming. This would be the only heart warming as the cloud cover continued its ominous control.  On our final morning, we awoke to two inches of freshly fallen March flakes. This would delay the first leg of the trip to Philly by and hour and a half. Once there, freezing rains would find a similar delay. But Ryan hopped aboard our flight to join us in the ride to Orlando. The plans were for him to rent a Harley and he and I would enjoy Daytona’s annual Bike Fest for the week and engage in the camaraderie of just riding together. Monday morning welcomed us to sunshine once again. We headed out to Dick’s as Ryan needed to pad his golf bag for some anticipated time on the links with his dad. Following a bit of shopping we retrieved the Harley and began the trek back to Yellow Jacket RV Resort. The downward spiral continues. After hours of waiting, more hours of flight time, followed by a hotel bed, and a three hour motorcycle ride, topped of with testing a new driver, Ryan had entertained back spasms. They’ve proven severe to the point of hastening the trip to Daytona. A heating pad, massages, Flexoril, Advil, and Cat’s Claw has provided no relief. I feel his pain as year’s ago I entertained lower back discomfort for years prior to surgery. My hope is that he does not follow in his father’s footsteps. Time has not been his friend. We have cancelled any idea of Bike Week. The Harley sits idle as well as my iron horse. Ryan lays idle as well. Perhaps this was an omen, a fate which forbade us from the hectic pace of a biker festival. I’m trying to find a silver lining in all of this. In the meantime, I’m demanding his rest and recuperation in an effort to be able to make his flight north by the weekend. Time and rest will be the prescription for the next few days.