JACKSONVILLE NEXT STOP
By Duncan
Rodney and Kacey dropped me off at my hotel, where I parked the “Mean Yellow.”
Riding in the back of an SUV with Rodney driving is something I don’t experience often. It’s common for the big shots in Washington to have chauffeur-driven SUV’s. I’m sure I could get used to being in a motorcade of flashing red and blue lights and a caravan of vehicles in front and behind me. And I’m sure I could look very important with a phone solving the world's problems. But I’m not in Washington; I’m somewhere in North Carolina, and I’m not important. I don’t have a clue how to solve world problems. I’m not sure I can solve my own problems.
If you are just joining this road trip extravaganza, it starts with a text. I’m going to digress here.
Years ago, I bought a motorcycle. I had always wanted a motorcycle. But, I had women in my life that believed I would kill myself on one. Starting with my mother and my first and second wives. They didn’t believe I was smart, strong, or man enough. Or was it that I just didn’t have “enough?”
My loyal and steady divorce attorney decided to fire me. “Duncan, this is the last time I’m walking down this divorce aisle with you.” JQH, my attorney, was simply tired of the drama and the emotion of divorce. Mine and everyone else’s. So, I had to make strong, solid decisions on my own. Well, hell, It’s time. I’m buying a motorcycle!
I became free of the shackles of doubt. I bought a Honda Gold Wing 1500 Wineberry colored motorcycle. Then I began traveling the United States with other like-minded, stout, and hardy men. I had a ball. Oh, and by the way, I enjoy women. Just in case you were thinking, I “went there.”
And yes, there came a day when I realized I needed to stop riding my motorcycle. Why? I was making mistakes. “I’m going to kill myself.” I sold the bike and bought a 2007 Mean Yellow, Pontiac, Solstice, GXP, Supercharged two-seat convertible. It was as close to a motorcycle as I could get. And I continue to travel around the United States in my hot rod.
So, my old motorcycle-riding partner, Rodney sent me a text, and said,
“You have lunch with everyone else in the world; what about me?”
I put Rodney on the bucket list, and asked, ”Where are you?”
As it turns out, this is why I’m in the boondocks of North Carolina. I just had lunch with Rodney and his main squeeze/wife, Kacey. I know what you're thinking; it’s crazy to drive 600 miles to have lunch with an old biker pal. Now, wait a minute, let me explain, If I can jam in other activities on this trip, I can justify my actions. So, I have included Jacksonville, Hollywood, North Fort Myers, Cape Coral, Sebring, and Tampa to visit my personal and very close friends.
(There are a couple of stories I have called London before this one that will explain where I am.)
Okay, Lunch is over, and I’m back at the hotel, ready to travel. It’s raining, and my next stop is Jacksonville, Florida.
I don’t like driving my “Mean Yellow” in the weather. But I have no choice today. It started sprinkling and became a pretty good downpour as I tried to find my way out of the back roads of North Carolina. I asked Google Maps to take me to Jacksonville. And it decided to take me through all the back roads of North Carolina and South Carolina. Why? Because there are no major roads in the boondocks. It’s all two-lane streets and back roads. I wanted I-95, the main super slab that goes north and south along the East Coast. But Google had other ideas.
I was coming off a hill and could see a mile or so down the road. I was traveling at about 65 MPH. The road was high on one end and high on the other end of this mile-long stretch of road. I didn’t realize that in the middle of the road was a huge pool of water. I hit this pool of water at 65 MPH and almost lost control of the car. I was hydroplaning, and the next thing I heard was a rubbing noise. A strange noise I had never heard before. What have I done to my car to cause this noise? Did I rip or tear something under the hood? I’m in the middle of nowhere, and it’s raining. I checked the dash lights, but nothing came on or indicated I had mechanical problems. The faster I drove, the less I heard the noise. The slower I went, the more noise I could hear.
I pulled over and looked at the general condition of the car. Everything seemed to be intact. I opened the hood, and the motor sounded normal. I closed the hood. I looked under the vehicle. A plastic cap dragging the ground was on the passenger side of the vehicle, just behind the front wheel. It was bolted to the car, and it had come loose. When I drove fast, the wind picked up the cap and cleared the ground. Moving slowly, the plastic cap was dragging the ground. I had no idea what the cap was covering in the engine compartment. I had no choice but to continue to drive.
It was getting dark, and I don’t like to travel on two-lane back roads I don’t know by heart. In 2021, on a deserted two-lane road in Montana at about midnight, I hit a moose and destroyed my $900.00,1998 Plymouth Voyager minivan. This accident put the fear of driving at night in me.
The moose could have just as easily landed on my lap or face. I get off the highway before dark as much as possible. Yes, I paid $900.00 for the van, and I left it in Montana thinking it was a “total wreck.” No, I did not inform my insurance company about the accident. How much coverage would you put on a $900.00 van?
Google finally found Interstate 95, and I was anxious to find a place to stay for the night. I noticed a Super 8, at the Manning, South Carolina exit. Let’s take a look at the room.
Sometimes, you pay for your thrills. This room cost me $78.39. Yes, that is a cigarette burn in the bed cover. I used the other bed. I noticed a Popeye Louisiana Kitchen in walking distance, and I brought back two pieces of non-spicy white meat fried chicken and a soft drink to the room. After I ate my dinner, it was time to hit the sack.
Jacksonville tomorrow.
