Dear Friends and Enemies.
i have an addiction. i gotta write. In these wild and crazy times, my peace comes via my muses via this clumsy keyboard. I actually like long hand scribbling mo betta and my archiveist will find plenty of those. but this format will suffice to cure my need/addiction to myself.
That being said my following notes are meant as a fix for my writing Jones and nothing less. Not an exact truth. Not an exact lie.
3 pitched the idea of his airplane raffle at for a plane ride at the Flagler Airport during a show he was helping sponser with the partners Berkshire/Hatthway. Flagler Freedom Fest. Veterans Day weekend, Nov. 11-13. He came to a schog,inc. meeting, got up, made a pitch. Then printed up the tickets and gave me half and a special offer that who ever bought a ticket that night would go into a special drawing and win the first ride. I sold 6 tickets. 5 of em to members who would not even be at the run, due to prior arraingments, but wanted to donate to a good cause. I look up to and admire these men/women. Truthfully, i expected to sell a lot more, but ok. This chapter has an annuall outing to the great wilderness up north at Camp Ellie May and that weekend is theirs. Veterans Weekend is packed with events and the competition is active. Which is the way it should be.
i stressed over the route up, knowing Linda does not like the super slab and only tolerates it for me. 415 is the standard, well traveled route, but longer. I even mapped out a route going up 11, which is a delicious country road, but requires 20 minutes on the super slab.
Saturday morning finally rolls around and i pack the essentials making sure i have a brush for my Lindas hair. It is her hair, but it is my job to make sure that brush is packed. I've learned to pack two. "We have to be home early for the dogs." is a statement i heard, hmmm, a couple of times since telling Linda of this run. Now, as we are 4 minutes late, she says "I've spent the last 15 minutes trying to find the music channel for the dogs. Where is it?" she's frazzled from deep down inside not really wanting to spend her day doing this. Ok. I get it. i understand, but not today, not now. I try to find it. Can't. Bring up aol music on the lap top. "Boom. Music. Now lets go" "Not so loud she cries." then tells me to calm down and shut up. These are the times one must practice gun control. "Serenity now. Serenity now" i tell myself. Finally we saddle up and get to our standard starting point early and no one is there. "It's ok." i tell Linda we are early on purpose. 10 o'clock arrives, but no fellow bikers. Not a single soul. Wow, this is a busy weekend. Now the path north is clear. 46 to 415, blah blah blah, to Tomoka State Park. I actually am a fan of lone wolf riding. the whole road is mine. Just as we pass the New Tribes Mission, Linda spies a bald eagle on top. "Ohh. Please turn around." "Now? Are you kidding.", i protest. "Now." she says. Now it is. I make a Dave Frame uturn and take calming deep breathes while she snaps away. she hustles off of Snoop-Skoot to get closer, just as said eagle flys away in search of a snack. Now we are only a couple of minutes later, but i know she is happier.
The new and improved 415 is acutally a very nice road to ride now. Two smooth new lanes each way. Because of the last few years of construction awareness riding, it is even more of a treat. Finally we roll pass Putnam Ave. and come to a traffic jam. I can see around the 5 cars in front of us and a motor patrol with lights on at the entrance to the run. I see bikes rolling out of the park. "I'm goin round." i holler back to linda as i ride on the grassy area beside the road. "No." she moans. The motor patrol sees me and calmly waves me into the pack. And we are rolling. Glad for the many many escorted rides under our tires that gave us the comfort level of knowing just what to do to blend into the pack. Only 1, maybe 2, bikes behind us, then the lit up motor escort.