Ever since I arrived in Palm Coast, we've had weather that is more akin to what one might experience in April or October on Long Island or New Jersey: cloudy and cool, with no real threat of rain. However, torrential rain is forecast for early tomorrow morning, courtesy of a storm system that's moving across the Gulf of Mexico. Areas to our south and west might have "severe" weather, which could include a tornado. The weather forecasters say there's a smaller chance that weather could reach this part of Florida.
In addition, my mother planned to make a particularly rich dinner for tonight: home-made cream of broccoli soup, roast beef au jus; baked potatoes; mushroom gravy made with some of the juice; and broccoli cooked in the oven with olive oil, garlic and Parmesan cheese and baked potatoes. I would need to burn a few calories, to say the least, in advance!
I woke up about an hour later than I'd planned. (OK, when I'm at my parents' house, I don't plan much of anything!) Although days here are about an hour longer than those in New York, there's still a fairly limited amount of time to ride. (The bike I'm riding doesn't have good lights.) "Are you going to ride to St. Augustine today?", my father asked.
It was already nearly 10:30. In one way, my parents have "gone native": they, like most people of a certain age in Florida, eat dinner at 5pm or thereabouts. And you simply do not arrive late for dinner with an Italian (or Italian-American) family!
I would certainly have ample time to ride there and back, even on the rusting beach cruiser I ride whenever I'm here. But I wouldn't have very much time to spend in the city, let alone to shop or stop for anything that looked interesting.
Still, I said, "Yes!" My mother smiled. The ride there and back is a "metric century". She knows that if I'm going to do such a ride, all is normal--or, at least, I'm OK.
The ride was pleasant, if uneventful. From the Hammock Dunes Bridge, I rode along the stretch of Route A1A north of the segment I rode yesterday. Both parts skirt the Atlantic Ocean. Yesterday's ride--which took me through Painters Hill, Flagler Beach and Ormond Beach to Daytona--rolled alongside sea oats and other flora and fauna that flickered atop sand dunes; today's trek zigged and zagged along inlets and bays.
On the way to St. Augustine, I pedaled into a steady brisk wind. That meant, of course, the ride back took about half an hour less than the ride up. Great, both ways.
Dinner was great!
In addition, my mother planned to make a particularly rich dinner for tonight: home-made cream of broccoli soup, roast beef au jus; baked potatoes; mushroom gravy made with some of the juice; and broccoli cooked in the oven with olive oil, garlic and Parmesan cheese and baked potatoes. I would need to burn a few calories, to say the least, in advance!
I woke up about an hour later than I'd planned. (OK, when I'm at my parents' house, I don't plan much of anything!) Although days here are about an hour longer than those in New York, there's still a fairly limited amount of time to ride. (The bike I'm riding doesn't have good lights.) "Are you going to ride to St. Augustine today?", my father asked.
It was already nearly 10:30. In one way, my parents have "gone native": they, like most people of a certain age in Florida, eat dinner at 5pm or thereabouts. And you simply do not arrive late for dinner with an Italian (or Italian-American) family!
I would certainly have ample time to ride there and back, even on the rusting beach cruiser I ride whenever I'm here. But I wouldn't have very much time to spend in the city, let alone to shop or stop for anything that looked interesting.
Still, I said, "Yes!" My mother smiled. The ride there and back is a "metric century". She knows that if I'm going to do such a ride, all is normal--or, at least, I'm OK.
The ride was pleasant, if uneventful. From the Hammock Dunes Bridge, I rode along the stretch of Route A1A north of the segment I rode yesterday. Both parts skirt the Atlantic Ocean. Yesterday's ride--which took me through Painters Hill, Flagler Beach and Ormond Beach to Daytona--rolled alongside sea oats and other flora and fauna that flickered atop sand dunes; today's trek zigged and zagged along inlets and bays.
On the way to St. Augustine, I pedaled into a steady brisk wind. That meant, of course, the ride back took about half an hour less than the ride up. Great, both ways.
Dinner was great!
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