Home is where the heart is

Day 4 Destination – St. Augustine, FL, 633 miles. We planned well. We’re literally on the home stretch now and even though we have a final time zone hour to lose, we have the “shortest” leg of the trip to go. After one last trip down the stairs for the Ray and Artie, I’m sure they were glad to say “good-bye” to that honky-tonk, we’re leaving Nashville.

Right away we had to make a decision on an alternate route, or so we thought. On the previous night while entering Nashville, we noticed highway construction signs alerting to road closures in and around the city. We tuned the radio to the designated station (amazingly, the only time the radio was turned on during the whole trip), and once again ran into a state agency that seemed to be just going through the motions. The recorded message, declaring which roads and routes were recommended, kept “skipping” during the critical parts of the message. No street or route names could be understood, “such-and-such street at Highway X is closed, please use –static, static, static – as an alternate route…” does anyone care about anything anymore?

We decided to stick with our original plan and successfully made it out of Nashville. We were blessed once again with a picture perfect day. Although there was to be a little bit of scenery left to see, we were pretty excited that, God-willing, we would not be spending another night in a Motel 6. I can’t say it was going to be “home sweet home” for either of us, Don’t forget Phil was ending his 10k mile USA crisscross and hadn’t actually spent a night in his interim home yet. I was very much looking forward to seeing my beautiful bride of nearly 9 years, as she had flown down to St. Augustine to help out with her mother during our Day 2 on the road.

Once we exited the hills of Tennessee, let’s face it the real mountains are out West, lots of memories flooded back to me. Having lived in the South during the 1980’s, Georgia was very familiar. The signage, vegetation, divided highways all were familiar. You want peanuts? Georgia is the place, about every 10 miles. Lots of Southern cooking options, but we were uniquely focused on our destination so we didn’t sample the goods, and oh yeah, we had dogs with us.

About midday we drove through Atlanta and our 3^rd MLB stadium adjacent to a major highway: Turner Field. Inserting a digressive rant here: Having been to nearly 20 MLB stadiums so far in my life, I can’t help but hope that one day someone that matters will realize that Fenway Park IS NOT A GREAT PLACE TO WATCH A BALLGAME…It undoubtedly was when it was built in 1912, and still after being rebuilt post fire damage in 1934, but not now. I’d love to see Larry Lucchino sit in the right field grandstand on a cold April (or September) night wearing a winter coat for 9 innings. I’m guessing we’d see new plans for a more spacious stadium with comfortable fan seating the next morning.

The Earth is flat, for miles and miles south of Atlanta. We kept a good pace, crossed over into Florida and decided to make one more stop for the dogs. Just on the outskirts of Osceola National Forest. OK, I’ll give you the “forest” moniker, there were trees, but really, this is Florida, we’re talking swamp here. And Ray and Artie’s first exposure to their new life - a fenced off pond with signs warning about the dangers of alligators. Welcome to Florida! When I lived here in the 80’s (much further south), I had a dog that “escaped” many times, went swimming in canals but never ran into a gator. I suppose all it takes is one though so I hope Art and Ray obey the signs.

It was a typically balmy Sunday afternoon outside of Jacksonville. We drove along I-10 which cuts through the National Forest and were now actually talking about which local streets to take in St. Augustine which was only little more than an hour away. Not long after we were on I-95, the same one I live only minutes away from about 1200 miles north.

We crossed over one of the many inner bays and were now on Route 1. “Old Route 1” as my mother would say, which is also a road I’m very familiar with back home. Turned left at the tattoo shop and we finally arrived in the carport of Phil’s and Mil’s interim home about 6:30 Sunday evening; our brides busy in the kitchen cooking up the family’s delicious American Chop Suey recipe.

Four days, 3,000 miles, 12 states, 3 Motel 6’s, countless McDonald’s, (a couple of Subways too), and 2 dogs successfully delivered to Mom. They were so happy to be back in a real home, I can’t blame them, so was I.

Next: Let's wrap it up.