I’m spending the last of my minutes here in Panama City Beach, finishing up a little work at the local Starbucks at Pier Park. I’m heading to a campground southwest of Pensacola today and that will mark my last stay in this state until I return.

I don’t know why, of all places, I’m lounging in Panama City (or rather the beach). As I’m typing this, that 80s song “There’s something going on” by god knows who is playing in the background. Ironically, there is nothing going on.

Going to stop before I head out at a gas station and change my spark plug, and check my tire pressure. I’m thinking it’s getting a little low.

Also, my eight o’clock shadow turned into a sixteen o’clock shadow. I spoke with my good friend Fez last night and he advised I keep it. I was telling Fez that my chance to grow a beard and look like a possibly handsome and rugged man seems to have passed as a LOT of the hair on my face was snowy white. I looked like Grizzly Adams, only the later version; the one going to the K&W cafeteria at 4 in the afternoon for the early bird special.

Sorry, Fez, the beard got shaved.

Pensacola, here I come.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Day of rest. No traveling.

Decided the night before last, after I arrived in Panama City that I wasn’t going to travel yesterday. Woke up yesterday morning pre-dawn as the sun was thinking about coming over the horizon. Quiet. Peaceful. I felt badly unzipping my tent because I knew the guys sleeping in the next campsite would hear it. That’s how quiet it was. Of course, I then realized that Cory (or Rory or Laurie or possibly Troy) was snoring so loudly that there was no way I was waking him up nor the people sleeping around him.

Watching the sun come up over Grand Lagoon with the moon in the sky and that one star beside it…. pleasant. Not as beautiful as the sun rose into the sky but before it made its appearance, it was rather nice. Really a nice campground. Clean, nice facilities, nicely laid out, and I didn’t have the feeling there was an axe murderer sharpening his blade in one of the RVs, although I will confess that as I laid down that night I got entirely freaked out. Someone at a campsite close by apparently jumped in the water or threw something large in the water and played with it for a few minutes. I was just going to sleep and I hear a huge splash outside my tent. I imagined for a moment a guy walking from tent to tent, stabbing people through their tents and then throwing the bodies in the water. I would be next. I kept waiting for the knife to come. I debated putting the camera bag over my face in case he went for the head.

Then I realized that I was probably just being paranoid. Nobody stabbed me.

After sunrise, I lounged around, took my time packing up the site. It’s somewhat nice pulling into a campground on my small scooter with nothing but a backpack, a small bag and a milk crate full of gas and oil. These massive RVs and SUVs and pickup trucks surround me, and I come rolling in sounding like a leafblower. An RV passed me on the road the other day and the thing was massive. I thought, “My god, I could fit 30 of these in there!”

By the way, I forgot to mention, I dropped my helmet a second time. Side popped out again. I realized, though, that it’s really not broken at all. I mean, a piece of plastic is chipped off of the side, but in fact, there’s a little spring latch that you pull back to snap the faceplate into place. When it fell the second time, I simply popped the faceplate back into position and haven’t had any trouble since. Also, ummm… the crack I thought I put near the front of the helmet? The long one? Yeah, not a crack. I’m mildly retarded. It’s just a design line. There’s a matching line on the other side. How I didn’t notice that when I was inspecting the “crack,” I don’t know.

I’ve also realized that there is no WAY I would travel any length of distance with a helmet that didn’t have a faceplate. Forget the safety factor. The nonstop wind on your face would be enough to drive a person mad, let alone any rain.

Moving on. When I had pulled into Panama City the day before, I passed a town called St. Andrews. Not even sure it’s really a town. Seems too small to be a town. But it sat on the water and they had a marina. For whatever reason, I thought I’d like to check it out. So I drove back by there yesterday after spending some time at Starbucks. Became fascinated by this one ship docked there. Left after a while, stopped by a photo store to get a couple of lens caps; none in stock to fit my lenses.

Went back to Panama City Beach, ate at a Waffle House. Hadn’t seen a Waffle House the entire trip until I reached Panama City and, all of a sudden, there are five of them! Didn’t have a waffle. I wanted a waffle, but was feeling a little bad about eating a waffle at 2 in the afternoon. Waffles aren’t really lunch food. Breakfast and dinner. But not lunch. The Asian guy with the thick southern drawl and Waffle House hat was really throwing me off.
Conversation amongst employees:

Guy 1: There’s a difference between city ham and country ham.
Guy 1: If people haven’t had country ham, they don’t like it.
Guy 2: People that never had country ham usually think the ham’s gone bad.
Guy 2: Thing is? It hasn’t.

Fascinating. Really, I’m not that big a fan of Waffle House, but I do like going in for the experience from time to time. Although, this time, I was the sole inhabitant of the place save the employees. Probably should’ve gone to the one just down the street.

Left Waffle House, checked into a hotel for the night just off the beach.

Last note of the day: Panama City Beach is weird. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about this place. It’s semi-deserted. It feels vacant. Not as in there aren’t any people here, but it feels kind of empty. Hollow. But there aren’t that many people here, really. (I know I just missed Spring Break and it was packed then, but still…) It’s clean, though. I keep trying to figure out what it is about this place that seems… not even “off” is the word…. I just can’t grasp it. There is nothing here for me. Also, I wanted to photograph people, but there is only a person here or there that I see that I want to photograph. And sometimes, when I see them, I’m loaded down with everything and the time is inconvenient. A lone man was fishing with his daughter at the marina. I wanted that photo. But I didn’t want to break up his time with his daughter.

Maybe in New Orleans or in Mobile, I’ll get the people. Maybe, I don’t know.

Photos here.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Start – 3623.6 km
Finish – 3832.1 km
—————
208.5 km or 125.1 mi

Slept like a baby at the campsite. Woke up to the squirrel. (I realize we already covered Carrabelle later in the day, but…. well, there was a squirrel!) Yes, it was really quite exciting. He looked just like a squirrel does. Only he was white. Strange. So he danced around my table for a bit. I actually thought he might leap on me because he kept leaping from limb to limb. Apparently used to campers as he got within two feet of me. Sorry, whitey, no food for you. Do you like coke, though? I have coke. No? Alright.

Very exciting. (I’m now yawning. You can yawn along with me if you like.) I did see some does. As in deer does. Not that that was that magical either, but it was serene. For a change, I wasn’t awake until 4 in the morning, listening to people walk outside my window, listening to fire trucks pass by, listening to police cars blazing down 11th Street en route to catch some bad guys. Those crazy coppers.

So there I was, in nature. All quiet like and stuff. No sounds. And everything was kind of green. Some brown. The brown made it less pretty. But hey…. nature! Woohoo! For those of you who’ve never been in nature, I would like to borrow from Chauncey Gardner in Being There: “It’s a lot like television only much clearer.”

It’s neat.

Anyway, after I left Carrabelle, the plan was to drive on to Panama City and camp out at the state park at the beach. That’s where I’m sleeping tonight, only now, I’m miles away at a Starbucks, mastering me some internet. (Take that Carrabelle townsfolk!) Today was actually pleasant. I finally got a chance to do nothing today except do whatever I wanted. Which, well, wasn’t a lot. I stopped on 98 which runs right on the coastline and ate some beanie wienies (extra can from last night) and looked over the Gulf of Mexico. Kind of nice.

Driving up that first stretch of 98 was hard, though. Strong headwinds, couldn’t get Scooter (yes, that’s his name) past 30mph. Sucked. Traffic became heavier, but never got really heavy. Even in Panama City it wasn’t too bad until I ventured way off course to find a Starbucks.

Conversation with some cranky old man/gas station clerk:
Me: “Can you tell me where there’s a Starbucks under 10 miles away from here?”
Clerk: “Take a left out of the parking lot, head to the second light, take a right and it’s up near the mall.”
Me: “How far away is that?”
Clerk: “It’s under 10 miles.”

Thanks pal. You’re a real comedian.

Before I actually had the conversation with the clerk, I was driving through Parker, FL, and what a factory kind of town. Passed by some mill and it smelled of factory. Then I passed some gas place, and smelled gasses I never smelled before. Like eight of them. It was a strange sensory experience to have that many noxious fumes run through my nose back to back. Very exciting. Oooooh! I smelled something! Weeeee!

Yeah, really today wasn’t very exciting. Just relaxing. Pleasant. No stress. No nothing. Just taking my time driving, stopping to take some photos here and there, drinking some coffee, doing some internet stuff, drinking more coffee, getting to the campsite.

Oh! One kinda cool thing today: I crossed a timezone. I’m now in Central Time! So take that, Eastern Standard Time. I just bought another hour of my life. This calls for a cigarette. Or two.

Also, it didn’t escape me at all today that my roommate (up until 6 days ago), Ava, was flying to LA today. She was catching a 5 o’clock flight. She’s probably there by now. Meanwhile, I’m uh… not. I’ll see her soon, though, and we’ll be shooting again. She did a really cool thing before we split and did a shoot with me and another photographer, Iris. Iris planned the shoot, came up with the concept and then both of us shot Ava. I need to go through those photos and publish them. Ava and I had been shooting together for months but it was all content for her so not much got published on my site. That last shoot we did was a normal shoot and that was a nice last shoot to have, although I liked all of our other shoots. Great girl, beautiful, shoots magnificently. And fun. And a great roommate. And she’s already in LA. Damn you, Ava!!! I kid. I’ll see you soon.

Photos here.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Start – 3269.1 km
Finish – 3623.6 km
———————
354.5 km or 212.7 mi

Woke up early yesterday at the hotel I stayed at between Brooksville and Weeki Wachee. Worked until checkout then went to the local Starbucks to finish up. Thankfully, there was an Office Depot right behind the place with a UPS store inside. Bought some DVDs, back to Starbucks, back to OD to ship them off.

As I was sitting in Starbucks, it started raining. I knew it was coming and knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I was kind of hoping for later, though. No problem. I’ve got my poncho! My plastic poncho. (I’m SOOOO going to see the Alamo when I get to San Antonio.) But where’s the other plastic poncho that I can use to cover my bag on the back?

After 5 minutes of searching through every compartment on the scooter, every compartment in my bags, I finally found it.

It was coming up on 1pm as I was getting things wrapped up and I knew I would be pushing it; I wanted to cover a lot of ground yesterday. I had made a reservation at Ochlockonee (don’t even bother trying to pronounce it) River State Park, right around 200 miles from where I was, and knew the gates would close at sunset as they had at Collier-Seminole State Park.

Took Hwy 50 over to 19, advice from the stranger at the Days Inn that turned out to be smart. Rained all the way up to Crystal River. Homosassa? Nice little town. After driving through poverty-stricken town after poverty-stricken town, it was nice to see a place with a little life in that wasn’t utterly depressing.

Stopped in Crystal River, had lunch at the gas station. Not the best move as the grilled chicken wrap was kind of nasty. Drove to Chiefland. Stopped there. “Bless you, child,” said the man behind the counter. Drove to Cross City. Stopped there.

Perry. The drive to Perry seemed to go forever. All I hear is the wind through the helmet, the occasional car passing on this desolate stretch of road, and…. Perry! Puh. Puh.

Oh Perry, hold on. Our love. Our love.

I’m singing Steve Perry out loud. The hum of the road needs to be filled with noise after a while. What better thing than bad 80s music? If only the town had been named something else. Focused solely on getting to Perry.

Oh Perry, hold on…. Something something, something.
And you shoulda been gone….
Something something….
Puh.

Perrier. Reads a lot like Derriere. Too bad they don’t sound the same.

Papa loves mambo.
Mama loves mambo.

Puh. Puh. Perry. Perrrrrrrrrry.

It was a long drive to Perry. A very. Long. Drive.

Forked on 98 and if I thought the previous stretch of road was deserted, it was nothing compared to the ride to Newport. I would go minutes at a time and never see a car. Of course, there was nothing else to see, either. No buildings, no houses, no gas stations, no signs. Nothing.

Was watching the sun start to sink in the sky. Knew I could make it. Wasn’t quite sure about how to get to the campsite from Medart, but figured it would be easy enough to ask a local. Fork to Sopchoppy, fork again IN Sopchoppy and it’s down on the left. Sign says 12 miles. Do the calculation in my head. 12 x 10 / 6 = 20 kilometers. 40km per hour. I’ll beat the sunset. Also, what kind of name is Sopchoppy for a town? I’m sure the history is fascinating for all of 3 seconds. They should name their town Bob. People like a Bob.

Reach the campsite, and the gates are closed. There’s a gap in the fence to the side, though, and with the scooter I can easily drive through. Get to my site, unpack. Staff member comes up on his golf cart, waves. Asks the questions about the scooter, where I came from, where I’m going. And here’s another person with a similar story. He rode a 100cc honda from Louisiana to Florida. I’ve run into three or four other people who tell similar stories. We talk for a bit, and I tell him about trying to beat the sunset. Perpetually late.

Passed a gas station 4 miles back coming into camp last night and had debated stopping there for some food/supplies but wanted to get in before the gates closed. After I settled in, I strapped my bag to my back again and went back to the station. Four miles is a long way to go when you really don’t have to.

Came back, ate some beanie weenies. Passed out.

It’s morning now, and I’m leaving. I’m going to take my shower, hop on the road and head along the coastline on 98. The senior citizen two campsites over came by to talk. Told me about the great library in Panama City. But 98 was congested. Especially around Destin. She also told me that people in PC apparently don’t get out much and don’t know there’s life west of Tallahassee. And she informed me, too, that Panama City was actually LA – Lower Alabama. Nice. My trip is almost over.

….
A couple of hours later and I’m in a town called Carrabelle on 98. As I’m driving into town, I run out of gas. I had stopped at a station four miles out of town, all the pumps covered in black plastic bags. “No gas, the closest station is 4 miles up that way,” says the old man in the chair. 100 yards later and I’m out of gas.

After filling the tank from my can, I drive into Carrabelle and all I can think is that, once a month, they celebrate something called Carousel, where they sacrifice somebody and people wear badly painted face masks. Probably doesn’t happen. But it could. Walking into the library here, I realize that yeah…. no. Old Spice in the air and harmonica music in the children’s section. People twice my age, mastering the innernetz all around me. What are they doing here? The internet may reach them, but what could they possibly do on it? Are they updating their Facebook statuses? “Bill is at the library, mastering the innernetz. (Innernetz is a slang term I hear is popular with the young ones these days.) See you all at dinner at The Fisherman’s Wife!”

Ugh. Why is this man to my left to me talking through the process of getting online. “Alright, come on now, computer.” Heavy sighing from the man across from me. Did someone just say, “Tarnation?” Stop, people. Just stop.

If they DO celebrate Carousel, I can EASILY outrun these people and get to my scooter quick enough for a speedy (well, kinda speedy) getaway.

I thought I would lounge here in Carabelle for a while, but I think I’m going to hit the road. The smell of Old Spice is strong and there is too much pastel in these parts.

Photos here.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Carlos Miller, Miami photographer, journalist, photographer rights advocate, and friend, put together an incredibly cool video of Day 1.

Be sure to visit carlosmiller.com. It never ceases to amaze me the amount of content dealing with photographers and first amendment rights.

Check out the cool video; Carlos did an awesome job, in spite of my dorkiness:

Scott Branch departs Miami from Carlos Miller on Vimeo.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Start – 3085.1 km
Finish – 3269.1 km
———————-
184 km or 110.4 mi

Overall, the day went pretty well. The driving is exhausting. I don’t wake up in pain or anything. The only discomfort is when I’m actually riding and the 10-20 minutes after I get off the scooter. My feet get tired and fall asleep. My hands get stiff. My butt gets uncomfortable. My shoulders are always tense and strained and achy – camping backpacks weren’t designed for you to have your arms outstretched in front of you all the time. The left side of my sunglasses randomly pinch my temple for a few minutes and then it stops pinching. And then odd things here and there. Knees get stiff. An itch that I can’t scratch. Something. Little pinpoint pains. Thankfully, I have wild helmet hair most of the day so when I finally disembark from the scooter to relax, a nice smile comes over my face thinking about how insane I must look to others. Plus I now have an eight o’clock shadow. So I’ve got THAT going for me.

I’m stopping at least once an hour. Depends on how I’m feeling, mostly. Or sometimes, like today, I stop when I miss turns. Stupid Tampa.

I need to go ahead and report the worst news of the day: I’m sad to say that I now have farmer’s tan. Wearing short sleeves throughout this with my hands thrown out to grab the handlebars of my hog, my arms are exposed throughout the drive for whatever sunlight is shining down on me. And today, I thought about the good advice of my friend Tere, who on MULTIPLE occasions told me I needed sunblock. Tere, you were right. I didn’t buy any, though. I’m smart like that.

Actually, I was entirely fine up until today when I wore these stupid tennis shorts and my thighs got fried. And why was I wearing tennis shorts? I did my first load of laundry today at the hotel this morning. I didn’t need to, but there was a washer/dryer right outside of my room. I was running late so I thought, eh, I’ll just wash them and hang them dry later. Yeah, that was a mistake. It was just extra weight on my shoulders throughout the trip. However, I smelled Tide clean all day long.

Moving on. Left Sarasota this morning, not sure where I was going to go. Stopped at a Starbucks, grabbed some coffee, did some mapping. Had decided that I would stay tonight in a hotel as well to finish up some work, and tomorrow I would be back to camping. Wasn’t sure exactly where I wanted to go, but Brooksville kept coming up. So I drove up to Brooksville, asked around for where the local hotels were, and voila. Here I am.

As for the drive itself today, it was a little strange. After I left Sarasota, I continued north on 41 and planned to cruise through downtown Tampa, then go on to Brooksville. I have to say, small towns are depressing. They look sad, the towns. They seem as if they’re all just dying. A higher percentage of hand-painted business signs. Roadside fruit. Shacks of homes advertising “Factory Direct Clothing” with racks of clothes in the middle of the front yard. Barns with plywood painted white with badly stenciled lettering saying “Your Ad Here.”

I passed through a town called Ruskin. As I crossed the bridge into this wonderland, I saw a slew of pontoon boats and mobile homes at the water’s edge. I wish I had photographed it because I can barely even picture it in my mind now. But as I came to that first stop light, I look to my left, and off in the distance is a man sitting in a chair in front of a small corner restaurant, Tacos and Stuff. Hand painted sign, of course. Later, (not in Ruskin) I would run across what I assume was a dog grooming shop since it had a picture of a dog and was named “The Dog’s Meow.” And later still, a truck flew by me with “It takes GREAT MOVERS to make a GREAT MOVE!” stamped on the back.

Really? Come on, people. Put a little effort into it.

I’ve gotten off on a tangent. Getting back to Ruskin, the place was just weird. Quiet town, nothing going on. Sunday. Dead. Not that I expect it’s alive on a Tuesday. But just depressed. And it had a drive-in which I thought was weird. I noticed it just as passed and so I circled back to take a look. I’ve never been inside a drive-in. When I went in, I thought of every bad B/Horror flick possible. Texas Chainsaw Massacre came to mind.

Desolate. I don’t know if the place was still in use or not. There was a pickup truck there at the snack stand. The field was surrounded by trees and bushes. No fence that I remember. I stood there looking around, amazed by how weird it was. Who goes to these? Are they open? Where is the person who owns the truck? I kept waiting for someone to be standing behind me in overalls. Dirty overalls. And a sweat-covered plaid shirt. And as these details come to mind, it dawns on me that he’s not just standing there but rearing back his right arm to knock me unconscious with the greased up wrench in his hand. Drive ins aren’t romantic. They’re freakin’ creepy.

I left Ruskin and kept driving. Tampa was going to be interesting, I thought. Approaching Tampa on 41, I noticed a variety of bad porn shops. Seedy porn shops that looked like they kept shelves and shelves of nothing but porn from the 80s. And I thought, “God, I hope nothing I ever shoot shows up in these places.” Shortly thereafter, the smell of Swisher Sweets filled the air. For a rather long stretch of road. Tampa was not impressing me thus far.

Kept driving and I wondered if I had possibly missed a turn because I should’ve seen it by then. Stopped at a gas station. I wasn’t on 41. Had missed the turn. Had missed the big bridge over into Tampa. Was now approaching Busch Gardens. Looked at my map, saw where I missed the turn, and went to go get back on 41. Unfortunately, in backtracking (because I had wanted to see downtown Tampa and cross the bridge), there was another sign pointing to 41 and I took that. A few blocks later and I realized that this couldn’t be right either. It wasn’t. I pulled over. Looked at the map. Damn. Stupid Tampa.

Stopped at Checkers for a burger. A beast of a fellow with a gold tooth flirted with me. Wink. Smile. The come hither voice. Told me he had a camera that he’d be willing to “trade.” I declined. I just wanted my cheeseburger. Checked my tire pressure at the gas station, filled up on gas, and left Tampa altogether.

North of Tampa, the landscape became much more rural. Pastures. Farms. Cows. Strange. Wasn’t expecting to see that. It reminded me a lot of the PeeDee region of South Carolina. Weird.

Got to Brooksville, found a hotel after asking around, and checked in for the night. “How fast can you go on that thing? You carry that bag on your back the whole time?” Nice couple at the front desk. I’m going to sleep soon. Tomorrow is going to be a very, very long day.

Photos up in Nomad’s Land.

Also, here’s a very short video of the sunset on Marco Island. (The video is being finicky for some reason, so you may have to refresh it. If it doesn’t play, you’re not missing much. It’s a sunset.)

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Some things I forgot to mention in the earlier post:

One, I finally measured my gas accurately today. 89 miles on roughly a gallon of gas. You may want to read that one again. I was amazed. Quite a difference from city to highway. I know I wasn’t getting that in South Beach, but I filled up in Naples and then refilled just south of Sarasota. 89 miles. One tank of gas.

Two, there is nothing more annoying than smarmy, know-it-all baristas who have not a clue (and here, I am NOT referring to the nice people down in Naples but rather the smart ass barista in Sarasota who thought my desire to see Pee Wee’s REAL playhouse was less than noble and proceeded to inform me of Sarasota’s burgeoning art scene). Lovely, yes, I’ll be sure to check that out. It’s effin’ Sarasota! Pee Wee’s Spankhouse is the only thing your city is known for!

FYI, Pee Wee’s House of Fornification was demolished or shut down apparently.

Three, driving into Sarasota, I was unimpressed (especially after that ass-clown of a barista finished off the day I had), but this town does have some GREAT views on a bay. I wanted to circle back and hang out there in the morning but I won’t have time. Plus, it’s backtracking.

Four (and this is really a note for the government), the Indians still have all the good land. Just sayin’.

Also, photos from today are up.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.

Stats:
Start: 2865.1 km
End: 3085.7 km
————–
220.6 km or 132.4 mi

Today, day two, was not a good day. And as I sit here in the hotel (yes, I’m in a hotel tonight), I am stressed. Sadly, it has little to do with the trip at this point. In fact, there is not one good thing I can say about today.

After breaking down the campsite this morning, I realized my block of wood was gone. That was problematic. I rode the 15 or 20 miles into Naples (maybe less?) to go to a home depot to BUY a piece of wood, the pack pulling on my shoulders ad my back the entire time. Found a wrapped package of cedar sticks that I thought would do nicely. And who knows, maybe cedar sticks would come in handy at some point, I thought to myself.

Side note: whenever I make stops like this along the way, it’s an ordeal. I have my backpack strapped to me at all times, weighing around 50-60 pounds, my helmet is either on my head or in my hands, and then I have to carry the other bag so that it won’t get stolen while I’m doing whatever. I leave the gas and oil in the milk crate affixed to the back of the scooter. I leave the block (of now cedar sticks) in the crate. Gloves tucked away under seat. Oh, and the camera is always around my neck, although today it did me little good.

So I’m leaving Home Depot and I’m at the scooter going through the ritual of getting ready to ride again. My helmet is on my seat and I accidentally knock it off. The face plate cracks where it’s connected to the helmet and leaves a large crack down the right side. After a lot of cursing, I realize I can finagle the helmet so that I can wear it fine as if it weren’t broken, however, whenever I go to take it off, I have to deal with the fact that it pops out on the left side. An annoyance more than anything really critical having happened to the helmet.

Because of that incident, and in part because I get on and off the scooter so much, I have a pattern down now. Stuff in the crate first, helmet hangs from the handlebars, backpack sits on the seat so I can strap it on… and so on.

Anyway, I leave Home Depot. I head to the closest Starbucks for internet. A barrage of worthless email. And then… and then there are a series of emails which immediately cause me a great deal of stress. Emails which are the reason I’m in a hotel tonight and not camping. I needed reliable and steady internet tonight to complete some things.

As much as I wanted to get rid of the stress today, as much as I NEVER wanted any of what I left behind to come with me on this trip, it regrettably has. Of all days for it to hit, though, today was probably a great day in terms of driving as the scenery was little more than strip mall after strip mall after planned community after McShops after nothing notable for hours upon end.

I didn’t know where I was going to stay tonight until I sat at Starbucks this morning (and into the afternoon). I had wanted to camp. After last night, I had wanted to camp every night. I know every night won’t be so pleasant (even after a somewhat restless night mixed with deep sleep), but I felt good sleeping in my small tent. I felt good waking up at 7am to the sounds of other campers in the campsites close by. I felt good waking up and thinking about the day ahead, surrounded by relatively nothing but nature.

Tomorrow is going to be better. I need to take care of some business tonight, map out a route for tomorrow (especially since some stranger in the lobby of the hotel had some advice), and manage my time better.

Ideally, the way I’d like the days to go is to get up in the morning, lounge for a few, get on the road and go to wherever I’m going, do some work/internet stuff, then spend the rest of the day/night exploring and camping. That being said, I see the drive itself as part exploration, although today it most certainly wasn’t.

Today was not a good day. Nothing impressed me today. Also, somewhere between Fort Meyers and Sarasota, I accidentally knocked the lens cap off of my Sigma lens. Turned around to pick it up, hoping it wouldn’t be run over. By the time I made it back, it had been run over at least once making it worthless to cover the lens. It’s not like I NEED the lens cap given that the lens is protected by the elements from the way it’s positioned in relation to where I sit on the scooter and where it hangs, but still. It was the lens cap. I may go by a camera store and replace it.

I did not enjoy today and am not presently happy. I will not have stress upon me during this trip. After today, it is gone no matter what. I refuse… I absolutely refuse to succumb to stress. I want to wake up to the birds singing and I want to hear nothing but them all day long. I want to see nothing but beauty each day. It is so much more relaxing to listen to birds chirp and the sound of the wind in my helmet than trying to interpret tone in an email and what’s really being said. And it is so much prettier outdoors than in. Although this Days Inn in Sarasota is just lovely. Nice carpet.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.