Day One-Hundred-Ninety-Seven, Stuck in the Middle

My campsite wasn't as good as I thought it was.  I did find it in the dark.  And it was awfully good, don't get me wrong.  Cozy and clever and safe.  My own tent-sized oasis, apart from the world.  Invisible to all mankind.  But it was not, as I thought, in the midst of a city.  It was in the middle of nowhere.

On a ridge overlooking Interstate 10 where it crosses my Highway 90.  And there was a gas station just up the road.  I do like to have my coffee.  But did not need it as much as I might.  I had slept until almost eight o'clock.  It is my custom to wake up with the rising sun.  The sun did not rise today.

Or not until mid-afternoon.  I would have preferred that it had.  Forget the palm-tree propaganda.  Florida can get awfully cold.

I breakfasted at that gas station.  It has its own Subway shop.  And their breakfast sandwiches are not in fact the very worst thing they produce.  Still I feel hypocritical.  I am against Subway in theory.  I resent what they've done to the American Sandwich,  They've driven more deserving shops out of business.  And orphaned a whole generation, who will never know just what a sandwich can be.

Sad.

I was back on the road at God knows what time.  No sun in the sky gave a clue.  And soon found myself on that same old road.  The one you see in every town.  This one took me north of Pensacola.  I hear that's a pretty big town.  But all I saw were muffler shops, fast food and carpet warehouses.  The odd Walmart, some auto parts stores.  One or two low-rent attorneys.  Used and new cars, video rentals.  Hardware and mini-malls.

It made for a physically easy walk.  I was on pavement most of the time.  Or on close-cropped grass or in parking lots.  It did get a bit hard on my nerves.  You have to keep your eyes open with that many cars about.  Three almost killed me.  Two were uniformed cops.

Now I like donuts as much as the next guy.  More, if the truth must be known.  And I know they're best fresh.  You want to get there before all the good ones are gone.
 
But at what cost.  The signal was mine.  They were taking illegal right turns.  If it gets to where you're murdering pedestrians, I tell you, you have a problem.  Scrape that monkey off your back.  Gnaw on some carrot sticks.  Do a sit-up or two and obey the laws you have sworn to uphold.

Seriously.  Shame on you, you miserable fried-dough junkies.  Do we really want to live in a world where the cops run people down?  Least of all blameless pedestrians.  I never hurt anyone.  I have a good heart.  I do mean well.  I am growing more humble by the day.

I gave them the finger.  It's my Constitutional right.  I did it subtly.  There was no need to burden these donut fiends with my deep need for self-expression.  We can review the First Amendment when they've mastered the traffic laws.

I was a man on a mission of sorts.  I had to hit the Verizon shop.  Good intentions and my own sad carelessness had cost me my charger cable.  Thirty bucks.  Plus tax.  For eighty-nine cents worth of plastic and three feet of wire.  I'm no opponent of capitalism.  But let us leave room for decency.  How much profit is enough.  Pirates.  Shame on them, too.  They're the Subway of equitable computer parts pricing.

While I was there I had them check on the replacement device I'm expecting.  "We have no record of that," said they.  I began that process anew.  And if all goes well I'll be back online by some time Tuesday.  Or so.

I was out of there by noon or so.  I had another bay to cross.  A swamp, really, where a number of rivers empty themselves into the gulf.  I worried there would be more bridges.  It was in fact mostly causeway.  And it had by then developed into a fairly beautiful day.

Windy, though.  Blowing right in my face.  It did not upset my mood.  It was pretty out there.  I kept fairly safe.  I maintained a very quick pace.  I was determined to get to Pace, Florida before meeting the Knightens again.

You may remember them as the religious fanatics who abducted me last weekend.  They gave me their gracious permission to have my new computer sent to them.  I had been hoping to pick it up.  Of course it has not arrived.  But they did not rescind their invitation to spend the weekend with them.  In fact they came and picked me up.  I am closer but it's still a drive.  And they stuffed me full of steak and beans and prayed for my damaged soul.

So here I am in a soft bed.  I'll likely stay Sunday night too.  Too enjoy their very good company and to avoid the Florida cold.  Then it's back on the road for a day or two.  Then I'll be back here again.  By which time they will likely be sick of me.  They've brought this bad luck on themselves.  You don't want to feed stray dogs and hobos.  You don't want to laugh at their jokes.  You'll have the damnedest time getting rid of them, despite their very best intentions.

SPEAKING OF CLOWNS, I passed a car full of Shriners dressed up in their Sunday best.  I smiled and waved; what else can you do.  They looked at me with contempt.  Dissed by clowns.  That's a new low.  Sometimes you just have to laugh.

CHANCIES, I think it was called.  "Chancy's

I PASSED A NUMBER of cyclists.  It's thin but it suggests warmer weather.  Stuck up jerks.  They still aren't saying hi.  It hurts less than it once did.  Let us pity those people with no Love for James.  I'm a good egg.  The loss is theirs.

CHEERS to the lovely Mrs. Marne Smith.  She made my teddy bear pants.  And pieced together the above photo.  Genius.  I almost cried.

"Wild hogs is more dangerous than gators, and they's a lot more of them.  They'll eat ya."