by Bill H Myers
Ten minutes later, I was back from my run, doing a cool down walk around Mango Bay. Almost all the other guests were still asleep in their RVs. The only person I saw moving around was Carlos, Mango's Bay handyman. Even though there wasn't a lot for him to do that time of the year, he liked to get an early start. I waved and he waved back.
Back inside the motorhome, I stripped off my clothes and took a quick shower. After the shower, I put on clean clothes, tidied up the bathroom and headed to the kitchen where I made breakfast. A bowl of cereal, two pieces of toast with jelly and a glass of orange juice.
Bob joined me at the table. He knew better than to jump up on it while I was there, so he stayed on the floor and settled for rubbing against my ankle. I gave him a pet and told him, “Bob, your friends will be here in a few minutes. If you need to use the litter box, now would be a good time.”
He said, “Murrph.”
I'm not sure whether he understood me or not, but he headed back to the bathroom where I keep his box. He's good about using it and even better about covering up his business. He usually spends a lot of time digging in the litter making sure everything is completely covered before he leaves the box.
Because we were going to have company, I'd clean his box and add fresh litter before we hit the road. Bob and our guests would appreciate that.
After finishing breakfast, I put away the dishes, grabbed the motorhome keys and went outside. I unlocked the motorhome's rear storage locker and pulled the lever that dumped the gray and black water holding tanks. When the tanks were empty, I reeled in the sewer hose and put a cap on the end so it wouldn't drip in the locker. I topped off the fresh water holding tank and then disconnected the hose from the outside faucet.
I unplugged the heavy 50 amp cable from shore power, coiled it up and put it in the same locker with the sewer and water hoses. With everything disconnected and put away, we were ready for the road.
Using the outdoor faucet, I washed my hands and headed around to the front door. On the way there, I saw Buck walking toward the motorhome, pulling a rolling suitcase behind him. He was dressed Hollywood casual. White linen pants, powder blue silk shirt, dark blue ball cap, a look that would have been welcomed in the finest restaurants in Florida.
I felt shabby in comparison. My faded khaki cargo shorts and the slightly wrinkled white fishing shirt I was wearing were comfortable but not very stylish. Fortunately, it wasn't a style contest and I didn't feel the need to impress anyone.
Buck waved me over and I walked out to meet him. He said, “Walker, it's a good day to be on the road. You ready?”
I nodded. “Yeah, looking forward to it. You want help with that bag?”
He let go of the handle. “If you don't mind.”
I grabbed his bag and wheeled it behind me as we walked back toward the motorhome. When we reached the door, Buck stopped and said, “Walker, I want you to know I won't be sleeping in the motorhome with you and Lori. I've made other arrangements.”
I wasn't sure I understood what he was saying.
“What do you mean? Aren't you going to go with us?”
“Yes, I'm going with you. All the way to Key West. But when we get there, I won't be staying in the motorhome. I called a friend and let her know I was going to be in town and she invited me to stay at her place.
“It's been a while since I last saw her and I'm looking forward to spending some time with her. So I'll ride with you down there, but I'm staying with her. If you and Lori need to get in touch with me once we get there, I'll be a phone call away.”
I smiled. “You're staying with a woman? Does Polly know about this?”
Polly was Buck's significant other and even though they weren't married, they had been living together as partners for the last six months.
He grinned. “She knows. I'm not sure she's happy with it but she knows. You don't have a problem with that, do you?”
“No Buck, I don't have a problem with you staying with a lady friend in Key West. That's between you and Polly. But if you change your mind and decide to stay in the motorhome, there's plenty of room.”
He nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”
Buck was over seventy and I was pretty sure he wasn't going to be doing anything in Key West that would bother Polly or affect their relationship. But I'd be keeping my eye on him just to be sure.
We went inside the motorhome and Buck settled in on the couch. I put his bag under the kitchen table; within easy reach should he need anything from it.
When I turned back to talk to him, Bob had jumped up into his lap. They had met months earlier and got along well. Buck pointed to his bag. “There's a newspaper in the side pocket. You mind handing it to me?”
With Bob in his lap, Buck was pinned down and the paper was out of his reach. I grabbed it and handed it to him. He put it on the couch beside him and said, “It has my daily crossword. It'll give me something to do while we're on the road.”
I pointed to the fridge. “You need anything to drink? I've got water, juice and Coke.”
“No, I'm fine. Bob and I will just sit here and enjoy the view.”
A few minutes later, I heard Lori pull up outside. She was driving her bright orange Mini and it was hard to miss. I went out to meet her.
Chapter Eleven
Lori had a smile on her face when she stepped out of her car. She too had dressed up for the occasion. Navy blue shorts over sandals with a white, gauzy top. The combination highlighted her tan and her figure. She looked good and I told her. “You look nice.”
She smiled and pointed to her car. “I brought groceries. Help me get them inside.”
The back seat of her car was filled with six bags from Publix. “You brought groceries? You didn't think I had any food inside?”
She laughed. “Walker, your definition of food and mine are a little different. You have freezer food. Mostly TV dinners and frozen meat. That's fine for you, but I wanted something a little healthier. Salads, vegetables and fresh fruit. I'm sure you've heard of those things.
“I figured Buck might want to eat healthy too. He inside?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he's inside. So I guess that means you knew he was coming?”
“Yes, Polly told me. That won't be a problem, will it?”
I shook my head. “No problem at all.”
“Good, I was hoping you'd feel that way. He can sleep on the couch. I'll sleep in the back bed with you. But don't get your hopes up. There'll be no hanky panky.”
I smiled. “Haven't you heard? Buck will be staying with a lady friend while in Key West. He won't be sleeping in the motorhome. That means you won't have to sleep with me. You can sleep alone, on the couch.”
Lori looked up at me, clearly surprised. She whispered, “Buck is staying with a woman while we are in Key West? Does Polly know?”
I nodded. “According to Buck she does. Go in and ask him about it. See what he says.”
I didn't expect her to go in and confront Buck, at least not without grabbing a grocery bag or two. But that's what she did. She went inside empty handed, leaving me to take in everything by myself.
I grabbed four of the bags and headed toward the door. From outside I could hear Lori talking to Buck. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but I could hear Buck's laughter as the conversation ended. I figured that was a good time to go in, while they were both still in a good mood.
I pushed the door open and put the food bags on the kitchen counter. Lori looked at the bags then at me and said, “There's more in the car. Get the rest and I'll put these away.”
After I'd brought in the remaining bags and Lori had everything put away, we were almost ready to hit the road. I had locked the side door when she remembered her overnight bag and veterinary supplies were still in the car. She headed for the door and before stepping out, she said, “Walker, don't leave without me. I'll be right back.”
When she came back in she put both her bags in the overhead compartment above the couch. Then she settled down in the passeng
er seat up front beside me and buckled her seat belt. Buck was still on the couch, Mango Bob on his lap.
I started the motorhome and while it warmed up, I went over a mental checklist of the things that needed to be done before taking the motorhome on the road.
I'd already brought in the slide room, unhooked from shore power, dumped and disconnected the tanks, cranked down the TV antenna, and walked around the outside locking all the compartments. The day before, I'd checked the air in the tires and cleaned the windshield.
Inside, everything was stowed away, all the cabinet doors were secured and all the windows closed. We were ready for lift off.
I put the motorhome in gear and eased out onto the narrow blacktop road that circled through Mango Bay. We slowly drove past all the parked RVs then pulled onto the street. I brought the coach up to speed and we headed east on Dearborn toward River Road.
Six miles later, we reached I-75, the north south interstate highway that runs from Michigan to the southern tip of Florida. I took the southbound ramp, stayed in the right lane and set the cruise control to sixty.
I'd recently driven the same route when I'd taken Lori to the Oasis Ranger Station in the Everglades, and I had a pretty good idea what to expect on this leg of the trip. Four to six lane highway most of the way, with three major traffic areas, Port Charlotte, Fort Myers and Naples.
The dash GPS showed we'd need to cover three hundred fifty miles to get to Key West, and it'd take six and a half hours if everything went well. Figuring a stop for lunch and another to refuel, it'd probably take us eight hours. Even if traffic were heavy, we should be able to get there before dark.
Traffic was a lot lighter than it had been on our previous trip. At least in the southbound lanes. Looking across the highway I saw a lot of heading north, including many motorhomes. I asked Lori about it. “Why so many motorhomes going north?”
She'd been texting on her phone and hadn't noticed the traffic or lack of it. When she looked up, she said, “It's all the snowbirds heading back north. They usually leave the first of April. When they do, the population of Florida drops by a few million people.”
She watched the northbound traffic for about a minute then said, “It's good we're heading south. Everyone else is going the other direction. Less traffic for us.”
She was right. There wasn't nearly as much traffic on our side of the road and the little that there was seemed to be moving along at a pretty good clip. Even coming into Fort Myers, there weren't any problems. No crazy drivers, no road construction, no wrecks.
We were able to keep up a steady pace all the way to our turnoff at US twenty-nine, which took us off I-75 and into the Big Cypress Preserve. After we made the turn and got back up to speed, Lori got out of her seat and went back to check on Buck. He had moved from the couch to the back bedroom where he was napping with Bob.
When she came back up front, she handed me a bottle of cold water. “They're both back there on the bed. Bob's curled up beside Buck, sleeping like a baby.”
I nodded. “Bob likes Buck. They're quite a pair.”
Lori leaned toward me and whispered, “Do you really think Buck is staying with a woman in Key West? And if he is, does Polly know about it?”
I shrugged. “That's what he told me. Said he's staying with a lady friend. Said Polly knew about it. Personally, I don't think Polly has anything to worry about. It's not like Buck is a teenager heading to Key West to sow wild oats.”
Lori shook her head. “I don't know. Men seem to always have sex on their minds. Even at Buck's age.”
I grinned. “Sure, it's only men that think about sex. It's never the woman. Except for that time that you—”
She punched me on the shoulder. “Walker, you can forget about that. That was a one-time deal. I'm talking about Buck. Not you and me. Doesn't it bother you that Buck's spending the night with another woman?”
I shook my head. “No, I trust him. He's not going to do anything to mess things up with Polly.”
Lori looked over her shoulder to where Buck was napping with Bob. “I don't know. It doesn't feel right. Him staying with another woman while Polly's back home alone. I want to meet this woman he's staying with. Find out a little more about her.”
Not wanting to continue the conversation, I just nodded and concentrated on driving.
Lori pointed to a sign up ahead of us warning of panther crossings. I knew what she was thinking. The last time we'd taken this road, she had been called to check a Florida panther that had been hit by a car.
That panther survived, but not many do. Panthers and big cats are Lori's specialty and she's always on call with Florida Fish and Wildlife. That's why she'd brought her medical bag. If there was a panther incident, she'd be getting a call. Hopefully, for Lori's sake and all the panthers in Florida, it would be a long time before Florida Fish and Wildlife needed her services again.
Most of the panthers living in Florida roamed the two counties we were driving through; a fact Lori reminded me after she looked at the speedometer. I was doing the speed limit. Fifty.
“Slow down,” she said. “We're not in that much of a hurry.”
She was right. We weren't in a hurry. We'd made good time on the interstate and were almost an hour ahead of schedule. There were no cars behind so I slowed to forty and reset the cruise control. This would make it easier to avoid a panther if one crossed in front of us.
Sixteen minutes later, Highway 29 ended where it met the old Tamiami Trail, the road that had been hacked through the heart of the Everglades in the nineteen twenties. Back then, the Tamiami Trail wasn't much more than an unpaved muddy path through the Glades; the abundance of mosquitoes, alligators and other wildlife made it treacherous going for even the most prepared traveler.
Over time, the road had been improved. These days, it's a smooth, two-lane black top that provides an easy passage through the Everglades. It attracts tourists from all over the world. Most come to see the alligators sunning in the water filled ditches bordering the road. You don't have to travel far to understand why they call it alligator alley.
The last time Lori and I had come through here, I had called out the word “gator” each time I saw one. It didn't take long for Lori to get tired of hearing me do this. After about the twentieth time, she instituted her gator notification rule. She said unless we were on foot and unless a gator was in striking distance, I was not to yell out the word “gator” every time I saw one.
It was hard for me not to do this, not to point them out, especially the bigger ones sunning just off the road, but I deferred to her wishes. Instead of saying “gator” aloud, I just noted them mentally.
Watching for gators and other wildlife made time pass quickly on what would otherwise have been a boring drive on the arrow straight, two-lane road. We soon reached a sign telling us the Oasis Ranger Station was just ahead. I turned to Lori. “We stopping?”
She nodded. “Yes. I want to get out and stretch.”
I put my left turn signal on and when traffic cleared, pulled the motorhome across the highway into the Oasis parking lot.
Chapter Twelve
The Oasis Ranger Station is located about halfway down Alligator Alley, right in the heart of the Everglades. It gets lots of visitors, mainly tourists wanting to look at the gators and use the public rest rooms. Many arrive in either motorhomes or tour buses and the Oasis parking lot has a designated area for large vehicles.
Since we were in a motorhome, I pulled into the RV section, leaving an empty space between us and a long, black tour bus. The driver of the bus was standing beside it, clipboard in hand, presumably waiting for his passengers to return.
I knew the bus driver would appreciate having enough room to load his passengers safely, so I gave him plenty of room. Not everyone does. Some drivers seem intent on parking as close as possible to a bus or motorhome. Not sure why they feel they have to do this, but it happens a lot.
I've learned that when I take the motorhome on the road and need
to stop, it's best to park as far away from other vehicles as possible. Still, some yahoo will almost always park close, either beside or behind me, making it difficult to get out. Sometimes they'll come up to the motorhome and peek in the windows to see what's going on inside. I wonder how they'd feel if I went to their homes and peeked in the windows?
After I got the motorhome parked, Buck came up from the back bedroom and asked, “We getting out?”
“Yeah, for about fifteen minutes. Then we're coming back here to have lunch.”
He smiled. “Sounds good. Think I'll get out and walk a bit.”
He pulled on a Rays ball cap, hitched up his pants and headed outside. Lori followed him. Before joining them, I went to the back to check on Bob. He was on the bed, asleep. It was a good place for him. He'd be safe there while we were gone. The inside of the motorhome was cool and would stay that way for at least an hour.
I went back up front, grabbed the keys and headed outside where Lori was waiting for me. She smiled and asked, “You want to go see the alligators?”
It was an inside joke. When we were here before, the very first time I'd ever been in the Everglades, we camp in the motorhome on the Oasis grounds. Late that first night, she had suggested we take a walk. I agreed and she led me out onto a wooden platform over the canal bordering the Oasis property.
Just when I started to feel good about standing on the platform holding her hand, we were interrupted by the roar of a giant alligator six feet below us. It was only then that she flicked on a flashlight and revealed we were standing above a nest of large and hungry alligators.
It was her way of introducing me to the Everglades. She thought it was funny, I didn't.
We weren't in danger from the gators that night; the platform we were on was elevated and had a steel mesh between us and the gator nest. But I didn't know that at the time. Lori had planned it out, hoping there'd be gators there. She thought it would be fun to scare me.
Looking back, I'm glad I saw that side of her. She can go from being the nicest person you'd ever want to meet to someone who you'd want to avoid on a dark night in the Everglades.
