View from, and of, the Country Inn (& Suites, may I add), Jacksonville, FL. Another nice run today, from Savannah, GA., to north Florida, a 180 km. (approx. 115 miles), a few stops along the way. Took close to three hours, actually. A light, light shower or two did nothing to dampen my spirits. Heading south is encouraging but I still wore my usual garb, seven layers, masked, helmeted, mitts included. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find mitts. My clawed hands make gloves an impossibility and ski mitts are way too thick. I am so careful not to lose my mitts. They’re gold in that they make travel which would without them be impossible, possible.
Just hanging out and relaxing at the hotel, taking it easy, thinking about stuff like freedom which is very important to me. I am completely and totally free, responsible only to myself; the downside is no partner, no kids, grandchildren, sisters, brothers. I will definitely die surrounded by my good and excellent friends but without family. Sometimes I wish I had kids but I opt to think that having taught for 34 years, that, in the words of good pal, Peter Marmorek, I gave at the office.
The up side is the liberty that I experience has allowed me to branch out and to live my life exactly the way I choose. As Johnny Jellybean used to opine, “you never know what lonesome is, till you get to herding cows”.
As Hunter S. Thomson used to write: “Nigger” and that didn’t make him a racist anymore than it makes me one for thinking “nigger” at times when a black man or woman appears in my line of sight. I don’t know why I think like that but according to some niggers that I know and really love, that doesn’t make me a racist. I know what’s in my heart and it is love for Albert, Joan, Phil, Willie, and even the grandson, Cameron, who pissed me off, not to forget about Hilton, (RIP) who got this whole beautiful trip, started. Joan was Hilton’s sister, Albert is her husband, Cameron is their grandson, and Phil is Joan’s brother.
Willie, featured above on his bike, referred to himself as an “old nigger” with only me driving around with him in his Mercedes. He also said that if he was involved in a traffic stop, he would ensure that he kept both hands on the wheel, to avoid getting shot, I suppose. Not to forget my good friends Bonita, Annell, Angela, and Charlene, courtesy of the Comfort Suites, Charleston. Annell and I are pictured here with my bike.
Get over yourselves.
That’s enough truth for today.