It goes without saying that things in Canada are a mite different than in the US, and if I'm honest, most of the time I really like the way things pan out in Canada. Our latest venture into the US of A came around because my brothers and I have asked our octogenarian mother to accept assistance getting down to her condo in Naples FLA, and since I am the only one of the 4 of us that is retired, it makes perfect sense for me to step forward.
I know, I know, wow Steve, tough job having to go to Florida in mid January! Listen, I completely get it, a readily agree that it is not in the least an imposition. Having said that, there are things that happen in the US that make me perplexed.
Since Naples is 2500+ km away ...
Since my brothers and I feel that we should be helping our mom make that trip ...
Since our mother empathically prefers to drive, for a host of valid reasons ...
My darling wife and I loaded snacks, clothes, and bikes into the RAV and tag-teamed with my mom to drive the long-ass haul to FLA. We pointed generally south, crossed through 1 province + 7 states, and arrived at her condo in a little over 39 hours. We left the "Beach" at 4:30 am on Jan 21st, rendezvoused with mom in Barrie, "pitched our tent" in Moorseville NC (more on that soon), set out again at 5:00 am Jan 22, navigated some of the most ridiculous rain storms these old eyes have seen, and pulled into our reserved parking spots at 7:40 pm bleary eyed and weary.
I don't recount all of that in a bid for sympathy ... just an FYI to appreciate the parameters.
Travelling on the Saturday was more or less a breeze since we were the only car at the Lewiston border crossing when we arrived at 7ish, stopped in Erie PA for a late breakie at Cracker Barrell(!!), and only stopped to fill the tank before arriving in Moorseville NC by 7ish that night. Sticking with the fare of the day, we fancied ourselves some classic Americana, especially since we had only really eaten way back north in Erie PA and found an IHOP for dinner.
Curiously 'Murican #1:The IHOP appeared busy when we were seated by our waitress, and it quickly became apparent that this young lady was not only hustling, but was extremely competent, polite, and a "REAL Trooper" as the saying goes. Our very quick discussions with her revealed that she was on a full day "double" because her co-worker had a death in the family. She had hit the gym at 5:00 am, worked her scheduled 8:00-2:00 shift, grabbed a quick break and was now closing the day working 2:30 to close. She was an absolute bee hive of energy as she single-handedly managed what I counted as 14 tables, besides ours, during the time we were there. We have no complaints about service or sustenance, but what manager allows his/her restaurant to befall said circumstances without stepping in to assist?
From what we could see, there was no management presence.
Curiously 'Murican #2:I had booked our hotel rooms using up my AirMiles. I chose the Days Inn in Moorseville partially because Joyce and I had used Days Inn many times in the past and had positive experiences, and partially because the online reviews were generally positive. When we opened the door to my mom's room, it was readily apparent that some fibbing had taken place somewhere along the way. While not quite a seedy dive, it was worthy of only the desperate traveller. Our room was not really any better, much to our chagrin. Had we not been completely tuckered out from the long day, we may have raised a stink, but begrudgingly resigned ourselves to the reality that it was only a place to sleep. From the noisy highway, to the smells of charcoal BBQ's going deep into the night, to the toilet that ran incessantly without direct intervention down the back, to the double room having one threadbare towel, let's just call a spade a spade ... this was a dive and
DEF NOT worth the AirMiles spent.
Listen, this was not a case of my standards being too high, trust me!
Curiously 'Murican #3:Sunday morning we set out at 5:00 am again, partly to make the most of the daylight driving hours, partly to rid ourselves of Moorseville. With it being OMG o'clock, nothing except Chez Ronaldo was available to fill our need for morning cuppa, so we purchased some coffees and got on the interstate. Try to imagine if you can, the sheer thrill of finding our java to being only slightly warmer than that of ice coffee. That's something that one can shrug off after a good night's rest in one's own bed, but to lump that on top of a night at the Heartbreak Hotel and a driving rain storm?
Let's just agree that things could have been better!
After 6 hours of rain worthy of Ark building, we out distanced the storm and were only left with the trip from Jacksonville to Naples. What, you might ask? They're both in Florida ... what's your damage? After prying a white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel, we were faced with the 5 hours still left to make the southern traverse down the length of the state. Steeling our resolve, we have at it, and as the light slowly sank past the horizon, we knew there were very few KM's ahead ...
Then ...
Curiously 'Murican #4:The black Nissan was screaming southward, changing lanes like a madman, pulled out into the outer lane but misjudged the spacing. It hit the left-hand barrier, causing it to spin like a child's top, before its tires finally found some grip, catapulting it directly sideways across all 3 lanes. Joyce was leading our little convoy, realized that an impending collision loomed, screamed a string of expletives, and manipulated the RAV like Goggles Pisano, managing to narrowly avoid the careening missile as it found the right shoulder and disappeared down the embankment. My mother and I were thankfully lagging slightly behind at the time, so while we had a front row view, we were in no danger of joining the party.
When we finally got a hold of Joyce on the cell, she was understandably shaken and upset. Between the 3 of us, we've been travelling North America's roads for a combined 160+ years, and we've never been that close to an untimely end as this happenstance.
Wait, it's not over ...
Curiously 'Murican #5:Finally arriving at our exit in Naples, I led us down the off-ramp and came to a stop at the lights beside a Sprinter van that, as it would turn out, was coming from the Fort Myers airport. As we both slowly turned right with the light changing to green, the backdoors of the Sprinter flew open, spilling a host of suitcases across the road behind me but directly in the path of Joyce. Still stressed from her previous NASCAR event, she avoided the clothing landmines with skill befit of the most seasoned rally race driver, and upon pulling into the condo parking lot, Joyce's face broke into a gloriously wide smile, thankful that the escapades were finally over.
Before the doubt enters your thoughts, YES, it was all worth it.
Southwest Florida is a gorgeous place and we love escaping winter's grip here for an extended period of time. While I acknowledge that these things might just as easily occur in Canada, we've never personally experienced them there.
'Nuff said, for me at least. As I said, curiously 'Murican!
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