During the past seven years, I've come to Palm Coast, Florida a dozen or so times. On each trip here, I've done a few bike rides. As a result, I've seen much of this town and its surrounding area.
One of the few places I've never explored is The City Marketplace. There's a good reason for that: From the road, it's completely nondescript and half of its offices and stores seem to be vacant at any given moment. Today, after the rains let up and I had lunch with a friend of my mother's, I took a short ride. I passed the Marketplace and took a detour through the parking lot behind it, which I had never before seen. A surprise awaited me:
This is Wes Cackler's "The Race", installed for the Gargiulo Foundation's bike and poetry show in June 2012. (I wish I'd known about that!) The photo was taken when the show opened.
Of course, no bike--or human--remains in "showroom condition" for very long, especially if left outdoors in Florida rain and humidity:
Part of the reason for that is, as you might expect, the town has practically no arts budget, and ten different organizations share what little money is allocated. The irony is that the bicycle sculptures are in such a sorry state (and the sign in front of it has faded as well as rusted, rendering it unreadable) in a place with an extensive network of bike lanes.
Does anyone make Gore-Tex bike shoes?
Who needs gloves?
Looks like the chain needs replacing, though!
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!
I heard everyone complaining--again--about the cold.
Today, though, it was in a different place. No, I wasn't in Montreal. Les Quebecois would probably laugh at anyone who complained about the weather I experienced today. So, for that matter, would any French person who doesn't live in the Alps, Pyrenees or Vosges. For that matter, anyone who would think of today's weather was "cold" lives well south of here.
So where am I? Here's one clue:
Water covers 70 percent of the Earth's surface. (It's one of the few things I still remember from my eighth-grade Earth Science class.) So we've eliminated 30 percent of all possible sites. It's a start, I guess.
OK, here's another clue:
Pink chairs, eh? I'm not sure of how much they narrow down the possible choices. There are, however, some places where one simply never would find them.
Colors are often useful clues:
This looks like the Southwestern US--or, at least, someone's imaginings of it. Whether or not it's sagebrush verite, it's incongruent with most seaside locales in the United States or Canada.
Just down the road, we can see similar colors in this building:
Believe it or not, public toilets are inside that building. It's in a state park.
Now, if you need more clues, take a look at these, just a couple of miles apart on a road I cycled today:
The road is Route A1A, specifically the segment that connects Painter's Hill, Beverly Beach and Flagler Beach before continuing to Daytona Beach.
I am indeed in Florida.
A rather brisk wind blew in from the north, which held the temperature to around 15C (60F) and made it seem even cooler. Still, it's nearly tropical in comparison with today's conditions in New York, where it was -13C (8F) early this morning. That may not seem very cold to some of you, but last week the Big Apple recorded its first subfreezing temperature since late last March.
Even though the weather is milder than it is in New York, it's not the reason I'm here. I am visiting my parents--and, of course, I plan to ride some more!
