I woke up at around 10:30 on Saturday morning. We were supposed to be out at 11, but I had sweet talked the nice young lady at the front desk into letting us have late checkout at noon. After showering and getting dressed I decided to take a peek out the window. This is what I saw:
That's right. After leaving 40 degree Indiana and driving until 3 am, I woke up to 70 degree weather in Lake Park, Georgia, with an outdoor pool and palm trees. And life was good. I woke Wes up at 11:30 and 2 minutes later the phone rang. It was the front desk clerk wondering why we hadn't checked out yet. I told him that we had been given permission the night before to stay an extra hour. This sent him into hysterics, apologizing all over himself for interrupting my stay. I said it was ok, and he seemed to calm down. As I paid the bill and checked out, the clerk again took it upon himself to grovel for mercy. Now, as wonderful as a gesture that was, I can't help but thinking that if all Georgians are that nice, I couldn't stomach living in Georgia. Plus they talk funny.
As we drove down the Interstate into Florida (a whole mile and a half down the road), Wes started to notice a fairly disturbing trend. There were Canadians on the road. Everywhere. Specifically, Canadians from Ontario. There were more license plates from Ontario around us than there were from Florida. It was amazing. It was like some strange spring migration. Was Ontario invited to a convention in Florida? We never found out.
Three hours after crossing the Georgia/Florida border, we 
arrived
in sunny Dundee. I think we did anyway. All I saw was a tire
place, after which I turned off to get to Wes's grandpa's trailer. We
arrived to an empty trailer. Roscoe was nowhere to be found. We
unpacked in a hurry and flicked on the TV to watch the IU game. After a
couple hours, I got my introduction to our gracious host. Roscoe is a
retired farmer/truck driver who keeps homes in both Indiana and Florida.
He is also one of the coolest old guys I've ever met. And I'm very VERY
glad we stayed with him. But more about that later.
That evening, since we'd arrived about 6 hours earlier than we'd planned to,
Wes had a great idea. He knew of this GREAT Putt-Putt Golf course where
his family played over Christmas that was just down the road. I'm all for
mini-golf, and being able to play in the beginning of march is not a luxury that
Indiana's climate will afford us. On the way out the door, Roscoe told us
that he seemed to remember it being off of the Lake Buena Vista exit in
Orlando. As we drove into the south part of Orlando, Wes told me all about
how wonderful the course was and how big it was. He said that there was no
WAY we could possibly miss seeing it from the highway. As we came up to
the Lake Buena Vista exit, Wes got this horrible look in his eye. Like we
were in unfamiliar territory, which we were. Only he had just realized
it. I asked him if we should take the exit. He didn't reply. I
asked him again. He started to answer, but I had already decided for
him. We took the exit and were instantaneously lost. We knew where
we were. We just hadn't a clue how to get to the golf course. After
a while, I started to get well and truly irritated at our situation. I
pulled off of the road and into a 7-11, so we could try and get our bearings and
either get to the golf course or get home. Now, my car and I have always
had a strange connection. I feel its pain. It's like a part of
me. At least it should be, as much as I've spent on it lately.
Anyway, as we pulled into the 7-11, the first words out of my mouth weren't,
"Gee Wes, let's stop for a moment and get our thoughts
together." They were actually, "Oh CRAP!" Because at
the moment I 
parked, steam came
rolling out from under my hood. Wes jumped out of the car as I frantically
tried to pop the hood. After a few minutes of trying to diagnose the
problem, we both realized that neither one of us had the slightest clue about
cars. At all. So Wes went to call Roscoe. When Roscoe arrived,
we could find nothing wrong other than maybe a loose radiator cap.
Everything worked like a charm. We just added some water, and pulled out
of the parking lot to head back to the trailer. Roscoe was going to
lead. He pulled right out into the main road, headed toward the concrete
divider, realized he probably wasn't going to clear it, then turned left, into
oncoming traffic. Wes and I decided to drive WITH traffic then make a U
turn into the other lane. As we turned, I realized that we could no longer
see Roscoe's car. That is, until he hopped the median and pulled out in
front of us. We drove back to the trailer. And I wondered if we were
going to have to take the bus home.
Continue on to Day Three by clicking here!
Got a problem? Email me at worldomatt@yahoo.com.