Day 3 – We’re Not Doin That Again

OK…like the title says…we’re not doin that again. It’s one thing to bust ass down the superslabs for 600+ miles to see some good friends and visit Daytona’s Bike Week…but I guess gettin back to the office just doesn’t carry the same urgency…go figure. hehe Soooo, today we’re just pullin an old fashioned…a backroad ramble til we get ready to stop for the night…hopefully, at least halfway to the house. Used to be the only way I rode…but recent years have found us sharin some long distance rides with several other misfits…and findin rooms for 4-5 couples…at the same place…at the last minute…at prices everyone’s comfortable with…can be a bitch sometimes, so we tend to do a bit more plannin than what I’ve been used to in the past. Hey, ain’t sayin we don’t enjoy ridin with our friends…far from it…but this point-it-in-a-direction-n-go thingy is feelin good before even gettin started. Ahhhh, the good ole days.

I tell ya what…must be something ‘bout livin on a boat…’cause for the second mornin in a row…on a bike ride no less…I’ve slept half the day away and don’t get outta the sack til plum near 7:30. The missus ‘n I had talked ‘bout gettin a liesurely start today…maybe even havin breakfast with our hosts before hittin the road…but ya know how it is on the morn yer packin up to head home…just gotta get goin for some reason. We’re soon packed, makin our goodbye’s, and pullin outta the marina by ‘bout 8:30. We’re sad to be leavin our good friends, Doris ‘n Wayne, so soon after rollin into town, but just a few blocks is all it takes to focus our sights on the road ahead…and are soon fully emersed in the wind. We decide we’re gonna cruise up A1A along the beaches to Flagler Beach where we’ll pick up FL-100 for our trek over to Lake City. Our putt thru Daytona Beach is pleasant, as there are very few riders out ‘n bout…hangovers tend to keep the streets pretty clear in the early mornin hours ‘round rallies. If ya have read any of my journals, you’ve seen the Homer moments chronicled in most of ‘em. Well, on this particular ride…the Homer moment belongs to someone outside the clan so to speak. As we’re makin our way thru Daytona on A1A, we pull up beside a couple guys at a light just in time to overhear their conversation…which went something like this, “It sure was nice not havin to worry so much ‘bout how dirty the bikes were gettin on the way down this year.” Only thing that comes to mind is they musta upgraded to an enclosed trailer for ’08. BWAHAHAA! Oh man, this shit gets rich sometimes. But I digress.

Anyways, after our little entertainment along Daytona’s beach boulevard, we head on towards Flagler Beach. The ride ‘tween Daytona and Flagler was a most pleasant surprise. Because the highway runs directly adjacent to the beach, there’s no room to erect the gozillion highrise condos so prevalent along many of our country’s once beautiful beaches…leavin ya with a very nice beachfront putt with unobstructed views right from the saddle. As we’re makin our way up this serene section of road…and I’m takin in the scenery…the missus pokes me in the ribs and yells something to the effect, “Look out!” This rude snap back to reality finds me starin nose-to-nose with a cager of the law enforcement variety…in our lane and comin on quick! I’m just ‘bout to make my escape run into the deep, soft sand on the side of the road…which I’m more than sure woulda messed up our whole day…when ole Barney Fife pulls back into his own lane. Luckily enough for us, I guess he figured out savin one life at the expense of two others wasn’t worth it…more likely, just goin to lock up one of those dangerous titty flashers on the strip. hehe After dodgin Barney’s emergency run, we make our way on up to Flagler, and have a bit of breakfast at the Pier Restaurant…and score a nice window table overlookin the beach and pier to boot. Cheatin death and enjoyin a scenic breakfast…looks like we’re gettin a charmed start, eh. While waitin to be seated we met a nice couple that had just come down for Bike Week from Knoxville…not more than mebbe 30-40 miles from us back home. Far as I can tell, they trailered down. Now, I get all this stuff ‘bout trailerin outta the frozen tundras of the north…and can fully understand that…but we just rode down from TN so what’s the deal? Does anyone actually RIDE to Daytona? OK, I digress once again…but sheeesh! After breakfast, we fire up ole Rattler, hang a left on FL-100, and head out on our favorite mode of ridin…country backroads ‘n byways.

Once ya get past Palatka, highway 100 turns into a right nice putt thru the country…farmland here…horse ranch there…honey pot over yonder. Huh? Yep, we’re ridin along, and all of a sudden there’s this little honey bee farm…pretty much in the middle of nowhere…The Honey Shack…cedar-sided, country store lookin place…table and makeshift shelves stocked with jars of honey…clusters of bee hives to either side…not a human being in sight…and an honor system lock box for the five bucks a jar. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen such a place?…with an honor system? I didn’t think those places existed anymore. Well, of course we grabbed a jar of honey…and of course we threw our five spot in the box…and then proceeded to snap a few pics. Well, I’m not a bee keeper, nor any self-proclaimed bee expert…but I’m pretty sure they don’t like their picture taken…’cause not a full minute after snappin pics of the place, I get one buzzin me. Keepin in mind that he’s got a few thousand friends in the general vicinity, I try my best to just ignore him…but he’s a persistent little f*cker, and gets more ‘n more aggressive. I finally swat him away, and he’s instantly replaced by a dozen more. I glance over at the missus, and she’s lookin like that character on the Charlie Brown specials with a constant swarm ‘bout her head. As if scripted, we look at each other and mutter, “I think it’s time to leave.” We hop on the scoot, fire her up, and start headin out…with bees flyin off the scoot left ‘n right. Hey, with their honor system, ya might get away with a jar or two…but don’t think anyone’s gonna hang ‘round long enough to clear ‘em out completely.

After our close call with the beeeeez…ok, so I’m a drama queen now…we make our way on over to Lake City where we hang a right on US-441 and head north. Highway 441 is much the same kinda route as FL-100 with long stretches of woodlands and farms. It also runs along the edge of the Okefenokee Swamp, and affords glimpes into the forboding, but beautiful, swamplands of southern Jawja. We’ve checked the maps at a couple stops, and are figgerin Dublin, GA would be a good place to stop for the night…just more than halfway home, and should be plenty of lodgin choices near I-16…the closest we plan to get to the superslabs on our way home. We roll into the Dublin area ‘round five, and immediately spot the Jameson Inn which sits directly behind the Buffalo Wings joint…oh yeah, location, location, location. On the way in, we notice the Wings joint looks kinda deserted, so we ask at the desk. No beer on Sundays…anywhere shy of Macon was the clerk’s answer. Soooo, we jump on the scoot, hit I-16, and blast it up the interstate for ‘nuther fifty miles to Macon where we find a nice room right behind Hooters. Funny how fast you’ll ignore that no-interstate rule for a little thing like beer ‘n wings after a long day’s ride ain’t it. OK, I’m a little tired now, and won’t go into the slow motion service we encountered at this particular Hooters…but just be warned…give yer thirst ‘n hunger ‘bout an hour lead time headin into the place…think it was ‘round exit 169 off I-75 in Macon.

Well, after downin ‘bout a sixpack each…and a couple helpins of wings…we’re turnin in for the night. See ya out front for the rest of the ramble home.