A restless night in the hotel after some great food at Hooter’s (yeah, finally) – then woke to the standard hotel ‘continental-breakfast,’ not a gourmet breakfast by any means but still effective in it’s own way. Finding a consistent coffee when traveling is pretty much a losing battle, it was the same this morning too – coffee sucked. So I loaded the truck and headed westward down the blvd, simple plan, continue west until…………
Highway 98 can become pretty busy along Florida’s ‘panhandle’ so I located the drive nearest the beach (Gulf Dr.) and headed out and west on it, if I am to be stuck in traffic it will be along the shore. Years ago I couldn’t drive this area because in the semi I was confined more to the ‘by-pass’ es and a delivery schedule, now I’m just ‘ambling’ down the blvd at a comfortable rate soaking it all in as I pass – maybe one day I’ll follow the shore all the way to Galveston.
The scenery is pretty much the same as the beach I grew up with and learned to know, nothing extraordinary different except the quantitative volume of cement that has gone into it all. Some speak of how creating new beach barriers or ‘jetties’ affects the natural movement of beaches; It appears that with all this cement on our beaches now – our coastline is in itself a giant man-made cement ‘jettie.’
View Larger Map
I recall going to the beach as this all started in the SW Florida area.
Moving along Gulf Blvd the ride was comfortable and only once or twice do I recall being slowed by someone – maybe the cool weather had them inside or we were all going the same speed, not sure – but its a good time for a drive. I just continued to be amused with the folks, buildings, and sand in someone else s neighborhood.
Soon the beach of Florida turned into a section of beach in Alabama, and hwy 182 ended, oops – then it was necessary to ‘back-track’ (I hate to back-track) a few miles to jump over to Fort Morgan (civil war era fortress) to catch the Ferry and avoid city traffic – 20 miles later and just past the Fort I was waiting in-line at the Ferry Landing.
It was my intention to continue westward, maybe even to New Orleans and catch up with a couple Mississippi River friends before finally deciding where the turning point would be. The Ferry had departed just before my arrival, so I grabbed a Sandwich and a Pepsi from the cooler and stared through these portholes of mine at the whitecaps on the horizon.
Somewhere within this idle time the mind peering out of those portholes found peace with it all. I finished my sandwich and stroll, then as casually as I had pulled into line – I pulled out and returned from the same direction that I had driven in.
My first summer out of high school (1970) Dad got me a job across the panhandle in Marianna, Florida – I drove a truck shuttling gladiolus (flowers) from Foley, Alabama (near here) back to Marianna, Florida. It was a hundred mile or so daily drive along Hwy 90 (Interstate 10 was incomplete) and this just may have been where I first began to take notice of the character along the wayside – as a ‘driver’ I had to ‘anticipate’ the highway’s surroundings.
If I could make a ‘lap’ through Foley, (Ala.) and then retrace my old route on hwy 90 eastward through the panhandle, then somehow it was a practical ride and nothing was for ‘naught.
The panhandle pines and rolling nature of this area create a downright pretty setting, its a comfortable and hospitable setting. The lay of the land, the weather, a little different than other places in its own way – anyway, I simply wanted to drive this road once again, so I did, 35 years later.
For some reason it felt fitting to be coming back into the state of Florida on the same old highway as I did so many times that summer so long ago, I wondered if I could find anything familiar along the way – and maybe it could be considered ‘closure’ in some very small way.
I noticed Pensacola’s gridlock as the biker ahead continued to put his foot down, anytime for a highway is too much – so I jumped on hwy 29 and interstate-10 around the city; all those people going places..
The foundations beneath the interstate bridges of Pensacola bare regards of respect to the pilots, airmen, and the efforts of the US Air-Force that represent our great country, enlarge and check out the jet fighters on the supports.
Then at Milton a few miles away where I rejoined the roll of hwy 90, rolling eastward – a familiar rd.
and there are places to paddle too (Blackwater State Park)
Businesses adapt or die on these old highways,
The sun dropped behind me and homes passed along the wayside – its a nice time of day with the sun at your back, everything has clarity and the windshield doesn’t seem quite so dirty.
soon the back roads lead me into the Georgia landscape, I debated finding a room for the night or taking the express route to the lake – after the slower coastal rides, I found some ‘zip’ in a cup of coffee and blasted through the night to a familiar bed..
So a ride about nothing? Not sure yet, losing a Dad is never on the top of anyone’s list – in my own way I found comfort in one of the few places that he and I shared and spent extended time together – riding old highways as he ‘ciphered-out’ our surroundings – he was real good at ‘figurin’ things out.
He would wipe the inside of the windshield (defroster didn’t work) with his handkerchief, mix ketchup with his eggs and grits, ‘sop up the gravy’ from the skillet with a piece of bread, he liked cornbread and butter-milk, he could tell you the history of a truck from just walking around it, he would unbuckle his britches in front of anyone (during conversation) to tuck his shirt-tail in (no big deal), he coughed as hard as he worked, and rolled his Prince-Albert cigarettes while driving (his elbows on the steering wheel), he was just ‘Dad’ and that’s how we knew him – he “was what he was.”
I guess life is like a highway, another place with a good seat to appreciate whats right there in front of us, an opportunity to acknowledge others as we pass, a place to remember – and a time to move on.
W.T.Haynie - Feb. 19, 1926 – Feb. 16, 2010
- bye Dad, thanks for the ride. – “uddddnnnnnn.”
