I have to say that I preferred the people of Santee, South Carolina. The people were nice, prices cheap, and the temperature was decent. Of course, the amount of time out of the left seat of the Panzer has been limited now to two motels and several gas stations, so perhaps it is not an appropriate sample population. The immediate problem with all that was the next storm. Georgia, an officious jurisdiction, all three-lane southbound with an ominous police presence, was burned cold by the last storm. It was a smidgin of ice, but that is all it took to bring Atlanta to its knees.

I knew I did not want any part of that, and skedaddled out of the Palmetto State as quickly as possible, putting Georgia in the rear view as quickly as possible. The skies cleared, Ray Bans went on, and in short order the Bold New City of the South was upon me. I glanced at the onboard instruments- temperature outside was slowly climbing into the low 70.

As I approached Jacksonville, I realized I had put the winter of 2014 behind, once and for all.

People were driving their convertibles with the tops down. For some reason the Garmen GPS wanted me to take the bi-pass around the downtown. it seems to have a mind of its own, and I remembered a time where a colorful piece of paper with intricate folds was the way we navigated, not some bossy disembodies voice emanating from a sleek black box on the dashboard.

I had hoped to see the Riverwalk, but instead found myself on the Southeast Connector. J. Turner Butler Boulevard- the road we used to take to get to Forrestal at the base at Mayport and visit the marvelous Beaches at Pnete Vedre and points south- went by, and an exit for Orange Park where we once lived went by, and then merged back onto I-95 south and miles and miles of construction. Florida drivers were- well, not particularly good. The truckers were all right, but I had the Panzer on autopilot and the inability of my fellow four-wheelers to maintain consistent speed was irritating.

My goal was Vero, but with Jacksonville and the threat of storm behind, I settled down for steady progress. I got off the road and drove into town, looking for something cute and saw some truly horrible places- the Norman Bates sort of thing- and being tired and dehydrated, I thought I would hole up and take a rest before sprinting past Miami onto US-1 for the 0 Mile Marker.

I should have gone to the beach and looked at the water. Instead, I found myself in an irritatingly upscale-downscale migratory Inns & Suites on the second try- the Howard Johnson’s was too depressing for words. I have had good luck with the old HoJos on the road- park in front of your room, easy access to daylight, very old school, but this particular one was across from a vast truck lot and new construction to boot.

So, Inns and Suites it was, with an exploratory visit to the 33 ⅓ Lounge just off the reception area. and a fascinating conversation with Duane, a crane operator working on the I-95 expansion project that is going to take years to complete. He had been a trucker, long haul, flatbed and break-bulk, and we discussed the finer points of the explosion in demand, and exactly who is behind the wheel of those monsters.

“A lot of old men,” declared Dwayne. “They just need drivers and they don’t care where they get ’em. I am happy to just be working my crane. But I wish the bastards would give me mileage to get to where it is on the highway.”

Dwayne said he had been drinking since four, and the nice man on his other side was buying shots of Boysenberry liqueur for the bar. I did mine neat, thanked everyone for their hospitality and went back to the room to try to watch some of the Winter Games.

Now it is morning and time to go. Five hours and sixteen minutes in current traffic, the the sleek little box tells me. OK. Let’s do it. The streaming audio on the computer tells me the storm will hit Washington tonight- maybe five inches of snow.

It is interesting to contemplate whether I should drive on in shorts, or wear jeans for one more day.

Copyright 2014 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303