Travels with Charley . . . April 18, 2006

Travels with Charley . . . ?

From the first moment I learned to drive a car, I felt the need to travel. Let me set the back story a little. From birth to age eighteen, I had only been in two states . . . And shortly afterwards I visited eighteen states in two weeks and the gypsy in me was finally released. Over the years I did my best to quell my thirst, but of late, I’ve been traveling with exclusively with Charley.

I have a sort of unique philosophy. Good without bad, makes good seem diminished. Kind of like the story of Adam and Eve, sure you have everything you could ever want, but what about that apple . . . In the distance, its shinny crimson tempts you, its curve as shapely as any . . . Well you know where I’m going. And then Eve, let’s just say she must have been a willing accomplice . . . And rest is Biblical history.

And that’s the way I went at that first trip, all out at hundred miles an hour. We did one of those spring break flurries only we headed to South Carolina first. Six states later and twenty-four hours, eight of which was a pouring down rain storm, Why? A girl friend . . . Not mine, need I say more. Women have this Amazonian attraction and before you know it you’re doing things a sane man would never do otherwise.

Anyway I spent two days sleeping in a grubby hotel. And that’s when I saw her . . . I was scarred for life, wrecked. She was so . . . Let’s just say, she could turn anyone to stone. I will never forget, though I can’t remember what she looked like. But in my Journal, I flagged the page with a red sticky tag, so as not to turn to that page mistakenly. Red tags are the highest color code of Bad.

Well on Monday we were gone like a flash. I couldn’t get out of Greenville fast enough. We drove all the way to Jeckel Island before stopping . . . Sure it’s nice, but really big deal. Then we headed down A1A, stopping at all the beaches on the way . . . You see, that’s probably why I can’t remember . . . Ya know . . . Today you young guys are lucky, we never had thongs . . . Heck girls my age were shy. Well, I must remember the good and bad and in this case all that comes to mind is a three hundred pounder in a thong . . .

When we finally got to St. Augustine, we decided to stay awhile, resting up from my fright. St. Augustine is the oldest city in the U.S. and quickly we got into our routine, going to bed after two and waking up at noon, eating hamburgers at the local dinner and lounging at the beach or the pool until 5:00. Each night we went out for a bite and the rest of the time we quenched our thirsts at anyone of a number of watering holes until closing and the next day, we did it all over again. And after a week, we headed to Daytona.

I’ve got one word for Daytona, WoW . . . Ten miles of beautiful white sand beach, with everything that goes with it. We stayed at a high rise hotel on the beach. My buddy was on the phone to South Carolina immediately, what a waste of time . . . But it wasn’t long before I heard a loud explosion from next door. I was bored, tired of throwing m-80’s from our balcony into the pool from the third floor. So I went down the hall to the next room and banged on the door . . . A guy with hair past his shoulders opened the door and a fog bank of wild smoke exited into the hall. Hell I thought, why the heck, didn’t the sprinkles go off.

“What the hells going on in there?” . . . “What was that noise,” I asked. “We opened the hall door at the same time as the ocean sliding door.” . . . “You can’t read, huh? And you blew out the glass door?” “Yep.” “Cool,” I said.

When I went back to my room, Joe was still on the phone. “So much for Daytona,” I thought and went to bed.

Dan Hanosh
. . . Brave Men Never Die
They Live in the Hearts
and minds of others.

tags: Dan Hanosh
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