Let's Go, Jane!

What a week. I made almost no progress on the van this week—but it was worth it. On Friday, I drove two hours to St. Augustine on the east coast of Florida where a dear friend was vacationing with her boyfriend. We strolled down the main pedestrian street, eating ice cream, and then wandered past a 17th century fort. That night we feasted on seafood; crab legs, peel and eat shrimp, crayfish. The Matanzas River, which runs through St. Augustine, separates a narrow sliver of land with the Atlantic Ocean on the other side. Their rental house faced the river, where we were treated to the sight of pelicans, dolphins, and egrets going about their day.

After a couple of months here, I will say the nature of Florida is growing on me. What at first felt very foreign, having grown up in New England, is starting to feel more familiar. With its low architecture, Florida has wonderful sunrises and sunsets. The birds are unusual. Where once I might have seen mourning doves and robins, my typical neighborhood birds here include white ibises and pairs of sandhill cranes. I often see plants that I recognize as former houseplants growing in the ground.

Back at the house, I managed a little progress before heading out again. On Sunday, I spent the morning installing the bed in the van. In the afternoon I set out for a three and a half hour drive to Naples on the west coast of Florida where my parents were vacationing. It was a long way to go for just one night, so I decided to go down the night before and sleep in the van in a Cracker Barrel parking lot. Cracker Barrel is one of those van-friendly businesses that has made overnight parking available to its customers. I made sure to eat breakfast there to support the business. The last time I slept in the van was early February. I got a great night’s sleep, and can’t wait to finish the build so I can move in full time.

My visit to Naples was entertaining. My parents, now in their 80s, were visiting with two other couples their age. I’ll tell you, octogenarians like to live dangerously. At one point I found myself in the middle of a back seat, with no seat belt available, changing lanes without a turn signal, Kinky Boots blasting from the stereo. Over 50% of the population in Naples is over the age of 65. Our hostess, whose car has its share of scrapes and dents, said she sees car accidents every week but they are typically low-speed collisions. In the morning, we biked around the neighborhood without helmets. I haven’t been this reckless since I was in my 20s. 

By Tuesday night I was back at the house, only to realize that my bed was still in the van so I slept in the driveway. The next morning I moved back into the house. I had work to do for my research job and a dentist appointment in the afternoon. At the crack of dawn on Thursday I dropped the van off at the dealership for its final warranty appointment. I had carefully calculated the mileage to St. Augustine and Naples and arrived at the dealership with 35,955 miles on the odometer, just 45 miles short of where repairs become my responsibility. This morning I am once again bereft. I should get her back later today or tomorrow, and then it’s back to the build—refreshed and ready.