Florida

Later this week I travel back to Florida. Oh, Florida! So many memories: the incredible sprawl of the metro areas along most of the Gulf Coast; the beauty of the relatively untrammeled Panhandle and the white sands that await in places along the coast like Perdido Key, west of Pensacola. Add a final jog along that same beach roadway, into the quaint coastal side of Gulf Shores, and voila - you in Alabama now, son.

Let's say you spurn Interstate 75 altogether, and opt, instead, for a jaunt along the former main thoroughfares from way down in South Venice all the way up to Crystal River. Going north, that would take in, first, metro Sarasota and Bradenton, then over the Sunshine Skyway, (I wouldn't take you through Ruskin, Gibsonton and Tampa just for old-times). Get onto U.S. 19 and go through Clearwater, Tarpon Springs, past Weeki Wachee and continue up through Homosassa. What does that get you? One hundred and fifty odd miles of mostly 8-plus lanes of traffic. Actually, the Florida as I remember doesn't really exist anymore, at least until you get ever further north - another 11 miles past the ever more distant Yankeetown-Inglis area. For is really just after that that U.S. 19 hooks suddenly to the northwest - and you fold the space-time continuum to observe the quirky desolation of earlier times as it comes crashing into view. Whee.

Go about 20 miles to Otter Creek, take a left on Florida 24, go another 20 and visit the place that many - Floridians and no - consider more than a lot like Key West, circa 1970. That would be Cedar Key, right on the Gulf of Mexico. This reminds me of another story...