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| Me and Ruby |
Summer riding in Florida requires an asbestos ass and a liberal quantity of sunblock. We dusted off the bikes and slathered on the sunblock over the weekend to cruise a little over three hundred miles this weekend….we had the need to put our knees in the breeze, regardless of the heat and humidity.
An early start helps; put on the miles while the temps are still in the ’80’s and the rain is forecast for late afternoon. Saturday we headed to Hillsborough and Hardee county. From our house it is easy to hit the backroads within ten minutes of leaving home. Secluded roads wind through the orange groves and cattle ranches, void of traffic, with only the noise of the V-twin engines to make the cattle stare lazily as we passed by. The goal was to meet my daughter and her boyfriend in Ybor City for lunch, however, I didn’t realize I had gotten us to far south to make it back to the Tampa area by noon. When we stopped at Herb’s Limestone Country Club in Ona and I checked the time, I had to call and apologize to my daughter…felt like the worst Mom EVER…but it wasn’t the first time I’ve lost track of time while traveling on two wheels. I’m guessin’ it won’t be the last either. Herb’s was a nice respite from the heat; sitting on the porch, sipping a cold drink, scratching Stains back (Stains is Herb’s dog who holds court on the front porch. No one passes without giving Stains a good scratch), and chatting with Herb’s brother. Herb died a few years back, but his brother and sister preserve the laid back atmosphere at the ramshackle outpost the sits squarely in a triangle of three county roads leading north, south, and east. The traditional Blues and BBQ is still held on the last Saturday of the month where it is not uncommon to find 300 bikes or more converging on Herb’s for a good time.
Since we missed lunch in Ybor, I headed back north through the reclaimed lands of the Mosaic phosphate mines and stopped at Smokin’ Joe’s BBQ just off SR39 in Lithia. You smell Joe’s at least a mile before you see Joes; the bikes almost came to a screeching halt all on their own! Joes’ is a no frills food wagon parked next to Rick’s Custom Meat Market, with a few awnings stretched over picnic tables. Rickety fans hang in the peak of each awning, circulating the humid air giving the illusion of a breeze for diners. No one seems to mind however; good ‘ole 12-bar blues is blasting through the speakers, the smell of wood smoked meat wafts through the air and the drinks are cold. I choose pulled pork with a mixture of sweet and hot sauce, cole slaw, and collard greens….we find a spot at a table directly under the fan and while simultaneously swatting flies and wiping sweat, dig into some of the best southern BBQ around.
As the rain clouds thickened and the air became denser, we headed back to Winter Haven for a much needed shower and a break from the heat. But first a stop at Rubys’ off SR60 in Bealesville. I was determined to buy a piece of Rubys’ artwork today. Ruby is known worldwide for her primitive folk art which she sells - along with pole beans and snap peas - from the rickety shack she built herself. Ruby was ‘in resident’ this day, and I pulled off the road, gingerly navigating the ruts and potholes, keeping Bessie upright in spite of the soft sand and grass that is Rubys’ parking area. Ruby is always glad to see visitors; she beams when I tell her I’m interested in making a purchase today. She unlocks the rusty padlock that keeps her treasures ‘safe,’ swings open the dilapidated door, and nudges me toward the darkness that is her ‘gallery.’ I have to use the flashlight app on my iPhone to light the way, while Ruby encourages me to ‘pick the one you want now!’ I knew exactly what I wanted, but wasn’t sure Ruby would negotiate with me for ‘The Piano Playing Cow,’ but it was worth a try. I stepped cautiously over painting and raw materials to the ‘front room,’ where the light was much more favorable, and spotted a smaller (maybe 11X14) version of the painting. I snatched it up and walked outside where Ruby was standing vigil at the door. The painting had a price tag of $375, but on this day, Ruby was willing to negotiate (she admitted the economy had put a damper on the sale of primitive American folk art and she had not sold as many paintings as she would have liked). I opened my bag, counted out all the cash money I had on me into Rubys’ open palm, and when I hit a number Ruby was happy with , she said, ‘okay, thats enough, leave yourself enough to get home on!’ She was genuinely concerned that I would have enough cash to get back to Winter Haven….all of 30 miles. I was ecstatic! Ruby signed the piece and thanked us profusely for buying her art, chatting non-stop while Paul tried to bungee the piece to his luggage rack (I was so enthusiastic that I didn’t even consider the piece would not fit in any of the saddle bags). We bid Ruby farewell and rode 40 mph all the way back to Winter Haven so the wind would catch the artwork and send it flying! I vowed to come back with more cash because it seems Ruby is in need of liquidating her inventory.
Sunday morning was another chance to ride and ignore home improvement for a weekend.
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| Top of Pikes Peak where it was 32 degrees; good memories while in the sweltering heat of a Florida summer! |
The Webster Swap Meet is held the first Sunday of the month. It is Old Skool Biker; greasy leather, scruffy beards, and women who should have abandoned the belly rings and exposed cleavage a long time ago. But who am I to judge? Vendors of every variety showcase a plethora of motorcycles parts, leather, patches, bandanas, T-shirts (its where you can buy the T-shirt without having actually attended the event. Not cool in my book…but, who am I to judge?!). The $5 entrance fee includes a ticket for a beverage of your choice; mine was ice cold water, but at 10a there was actually a line half a block long for the beer. Within two minutes of walking, we were drenched in sweat, not pretty. Not seeing anything we needed (unless you are planning on building a bike from the ground up) we decided to hit the road and stay in the breeze. Which is the secret to summer riding in the South…keep moving.
The ride to Webster is about 70 miles through the lush Green Swamp and then the cool and shady Withlahoochie National Forest. Todays ride would not end as exuberant as yesterdays (with my triumphant purchase of Rubys artwork), but we did end it with my favorite Vietnamese restaurant (and Pauls first experience with Vietnamese cuisine….the jury is till out as to whether he actually LIKED it, or was just being kind because he loves me…). We both needed a weekend of riding in spite of the heat, instead of a weekend of home improvement, which never seems to end.
Grateful for good roads, good food, safe travel, and most of all, good company.
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