I can’t figure out Florida.
It confuses me somehow. My hotel
was on the Interstate, which I wanted to leave, but I had gotten a late
start. I felt tired so I slept in, had a
banana and a cup of coffee for breakfast at a gas station, filled up and drove
onto the on ramp towards Orlando. It was
the path of least resistance. I’d strike
out into rural Florida later.
You can get lulled almost to sleep on the Interstate. There’s not much new to look at out
there. It’s the same hotels,
restaurants, and gas stations on the signs along the highway. I didn’t play any music, just zoned out and
drove. It’s what I imagine truck drivers
do, just keep the wheels turning, put in the time, and get closer to home. In this case, I was going to be with my wife
and family at the end of the day.
Before I knew it I was heading towards Orlando. I successfully avoided Orlando as an American
parent. I told my kids I could take them
to Mexico or Guatemala for more days than it would cost to spend four days at
Disney World. It worked. I took both my kids on I Care missions, where
they helped people and saw the world as it exists outside their own country,
and never had to stand in line for Space Mountain or any of the other
rides. For that I’ve always felt
blessed.
Orlando is huge. The
Buick and I were on Interstate 4, and I swear I couldn’t get out of that
town. And everything looked new. That’s what confuses me about Florida. What did it used to be? Do they tear down every building after thirty
years? Is this all new development?
My Dad, whose brother lived in Florida, and
who visited there only once that I know of, for my Uncle’s funeral, didn’t care
much for the Sunshine State. He said it
was all sand and swamp. Central Illinois
farmers get very snobby about their moisture holding black dirt. He used to say that contractors would pile five
concrete blocks, one on top of the other, on a potential building site in
Florida, go for lunch, and if when they came back four blocks were still visible,
they’d build a house there. Not only
that, but by the end of the month there would be a whole town built up around
that one house. He tended to exaggerate,
my Dad, but he may have been on to something about Florida. There is development, and there are lakes and
swamp, and I have yet to determine if there is anything else. But I’ve only passed through quickly.
After I got past Orlando, and Kissimmee (no easy task), I
stopped at a Wendy’s near Loughman. I
went inside, had a lemonade, and studied my Atlas. I was disturbingly close to Tampa, my real
destination being Oldsmar tucked inside Tampa somewhere. Florida is narrow. You can’t drive far before you’re on the
other side. My last good chance to drive
somewhere outside a metropolitan area was to take Route 27 up to 50, cut over
towards Minneola, and follow that down to Weeki Watchee. So that was a plan. I asked the kid at the counter where I could
pick up 27 and he pointed out the window.
The Wendy’s was on 27. Good deal.
So I went north, thinking I was out of the Orlando/Kissimmee/Winter
Garden/Pine Hills/Conway mess of houses and strip malls, but I found more of
it. On the map it looked like open
country, and my map was a Rand McNally 2016 Road Atlas, supposedly up to
date. But instead of open Florida, there
was a sidewalk running for a good three miles on my right, a sidewalk built
where there were no houses, and on my left was one damn little subdivision of
one story houses after another. Not that
I have anything against subdivisions. Well
yeah, I guess I do. I was tired of them.
To make matters worse I never found Route 50. Either it wasn’t marked, or I didn’t see it,
but it never showed up. I became disgusted, was sure I’d gone too far, and
turned back the way I came. Didn’t see
it the second time either. So I continued,
went past the Wendy’s and rejoined Interstate 4. Both Rand and McNally, if they are two
separate people, blew that one, as did my phone, which proved to be not so
smart. I gave up and let the crowded four
lane limited access highway with all the traffic take me clear into Tampa where
I put my brother in law’s address in my phone and followed it like a lemming to
his house. Actually I drove past it
once. I think I was looking on the wrong
side of the road.
And thus the road trip ended. After all the beauty of the back roads, the
honky tonks, the unexpected discoveries, and the characters I encountered; my
final day was solitary and dull, pounding it down the interstate like everyone
else. I’ll have to discover rural
Florida another time.
The trip ended officially when I saw my wife. She was smiling and waving, standing by a
carport, showing me where to park. It
was good to see her, good to be once again in the company of someone I love,
back in the arms of someone who loves me.
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