Since we were within striking distance of central Florida & Don’s parents winter in Kissimmee, we had to veer off our course. Rosemarie and Bill live in a “retirement community”, which is sanctioned segregation for the 55 and above crowd. My mother-in-law flew me a text on her IPhone (no grass growing under her) and told me to “enter through the main gate” and Peter would direct us where to go. It seems we had come to the end of our road (trip).
When we approached the main gate, Peter was there to greet us. He did a fairly thorough job ascertaining who we were and where we were going. He welcomed us with a smile as I was fairly certain he considered us to be potential residents.
Following the directions given to us by Peter, our path was straight and narrow. We passed residents of this place and noted that everyone at the end of the road was the same color (a shade of tan, like leather) and travelled in the same mode. (golf cart)
While trying to locate the pool we left the straight and narrow and found ourselves heading down a long, dark path. Fortunately the local security guards, Gabriel and Michael, found us and nudged us in the right direction. Whew! That was close.
Then we came to an area of communal gardens. There was a lone gardener there planting seeds. It was pretty warm already that morning and we stopped to admire the flowers that were blooming. We told the gardener how pretty we found the garden to be. He straightened up, then wiped his brow. He told us that we should also take up gardening and advised us to be very careful about what seeds we sowed because that would influence the yield we reaped (or something like that, his English was heavily accented and I could hardly understand him). We introduced ourselves and he told us his name was “Hay Seuss”. We thanked him for the gardening tips and then he asked us if we wanted to go fishing with him. Since we were already late getting to the pool we explained that we were trying to go for a swim and had an appointment with John, the pool boy. He said he knew him and told us the water was fine.
(Hay Seuss Rodriguez working in his garden: Gethsemane)
Finally, we were able to locate the Living Waters Pool & Recreation Center but it seemed John had stepped out for a round of golf.
Oh well, it was a great ride with no regrets. I only wish we would have had more time. It seemed the road was too short. Or was it?
We decided that when you get to the end of the road, just consider it the beginning of a new road.
Trip Log Day 7: St. Augustine, FL to The End Of The Road 139 miles
Have a blessed Easter and a safe journey!
Thanks for travelling with us,
Don & Susan
Epilogue: We just couldn’t resist spending a night in Savannah, GA while we headed back to North Carolina to see Steve. Friday night on the Riverwalk is like a mini Mardi Gras, complete with fireworks. Don shucked a bucket of oysters at Bernie’s River Street Raw Bar. It’s in the old tobacco warehouse and is supposedly haunted. Obviously catering to a “more mature” crowd due to the classic rock that was playing and the presence of many already fully silver heads (unlike mine). We haven’t been in a bar like that since we closed one down in NY when we went up for our neighborhood reunion in the summer of 2010. Those were the days!
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