From a Subaru Outback: Revisited

So, I totaled my car rendering the name of this blog obsolete. However, I might be buying my grandpa's car off of him for (too) cheap, which probably means I have to travel to Florida to acquire it. Needless to say, I highly anticipate another impromptu drive to nowhere in particular once said car is obtained.

Until then!

Inconclusive

Upon arriving home I imagined a lot of things would be different. Unfortunately, problems that don't chase you will wait patiently for you to get back. Then there are the things that you thought you kicked enough dirt over to hardly be noticeable anymore that tend to resurface at the slightest smell of progress. While I missed New York and I anticipated getting myself a fresh start with a newly cleaned brain and the power of hindsight when I got back; the same holes keep tripping me up and the same old bridges still deserve to be burned. I don't know if I returned any better off or any worse off than I initially started, but what I do know is that I'm always welcome in Orlando and the sunshine state is looking like a better option every day. On a positive note, I'm now the proud owner of some of the best memories I've acquired yet and I'm glad to know such stand-up dogs, dudes, and dudettes. Thanks for everything guys. Until next time!

Orlando via Cellular Device

Too many new happenings this entire trip that would take almost as long to write out as it would if I was going through them all again. Sometimes I was too drunk/distracted/busy/lazy to pull my phone out and get any pictures. These are the times I remembered I owned half a brain and a camera phone. Elaborations available upon request.

Darick's Birthday Pirate Cruise

That's some bird.

For 3 hours this was our open bar escort.

Downtown Orlando

Darick's place of work and my corner for busking.

Pictured here: Chris Farley and a lady that generously offered to "give ya a handjob for two bucks".


Drunk Danial and his Fort Wayne friends (L-R: Rodd, Drunk Danial, Dirty D [barely pictured] Jason, Floozy #1, Floozy #2, Chris)


Goth chicks sucking tits in Backbooth.


Richard "the Adequate" (Danial and Rodd on either side)




The Jaws ride at Universal Studios

Worst seats in the house.



Various Live Music

Against Me! at the Black Box Collective



the Monotonix at Backbooth

The best band to never play Florida


Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band


My Time in the Petitioner's Business

Dan Crain (the man, the myth, the legend) and Abe

First gig, the crowd at a Republican Tea Party



Miscellaneous Fuckery


Saw this bad boy after me, Darick and Black James fully assembled a drum set for nearly free in 2 days. My spirit guide.

Fishing at 5AM. Giorgio and Darick made a bet for who could catch the bigger fish. As of 8:30AM none of us caught anything.

The half pipe mini in the back yard (Pictured L-R: Thrash, Danial, Darick, Black James, Dirty D)

Giorgio, Danial, Darick. My surrogate family.


The fish pond in front of their house that lead to the slaying of a problematic possum. If you look close you can see my koi fish Gorgoroth (no you can't)


Darick and his Mad Max style Kawasaki Cafe Racer


Thrash dog. As rude as he wants to be.


Casey, the freak

Violence. Amanda Little doesn't dig possum guts.


Aw jyea

My home away from home

Giorgio and Thrash cruisin'

Darick's new mattress attached by an extension cord and some jumper cables

Obligatory visit to South of the Border on the ride to NY

Italy in Florida

This drive proved to be just as painful as the Pittsburgh one. I mean, this time around I was semi prepared at least, but it still seemed like it dragged on for entirely too long.

I proceeded to finish off listening to Mister B. Gone on audiobook and switched back to music. At this time I was closing in on the Georgia/Florida border and the sun started going down. Almost immediately after driving over the state line I could feel a change in climate that inspired me to roll my windows down and take it in. Around the time I did that, I saw neon lights in the distance. I looked at my gas gauge and decided it was time to fuel up so I wouldn't have to worry about it until way later on down the line. I took the next exit and started to pull into a Citgo when I noticed that across the street was a Mobil. Now, I'm not picky about where my gas comes from, but if you've been paying attention you'd know I enjoy tourist traps. This one was no different. A Dairy Queen, gas station, knick knack dealer, and fireworks shop rolled into one. Lucky day! I jammed on the brakes and turned around in the parking lot and sped over to the opposing gas station. Here I picked up some post cards, roman candles, and more energy drinks along with some food. I hit the road again, and at this point the highway turned painfully straight and didn't deviate once it seemed. I spent hours staring straight with no other traffic around feeling the (slightly) warm(er) wind on my face until I needed gas again. I pulled into another convenience store off the highway where a homeless man implored me for some food or something to drink. I hooked him up with the remainder of my popcorn chicken and french fries and went inside. There was a man working the counter that didn't speak very good english, to fullfil a stereotype I'm sure, so he seemed to be confused when I asked if they had a bathroom.

"Can I use your bathroom?"
"..What?"
"Do you have a bathroom?"
"Oh uh ahm, what?"
"Is there a bathroom I could use here?"

He seemed to make sense of it and smiled kind of a creepy smile. He proceeded to tell me that there wasn't a back room and nodded knowlingly. What he may have thought I suggested still kind of makes me laugh when I speculate to myself, but I assured him I just needed to pee in so many words ("If not can I just take a leak out back?" "Oh, bathroom! Yes, behind chip rack"). I came back out and gave the homeless guy a bottle of water I bought and he stopped me because he was curious what a New Yorker was doing driving down here. He seemed genuinely interested in my story, which I would think would be kind of a bore, and reluctant to discuss the terms of his drifting. I didn't think too hard about it but instead talked about music because he could see the guitar peeking out over the top of my seat.

We parted ways without exchanging names and I kept heading towards my grandparents' place in Venice. When I got close I kept seeing names of major Italian cities on the exit signs like Naples, among others that I don't recall. When I saw the exit for Venice, I pulled off and looked for their neighborhood. It was gated from what I remember, and it was still gated when I got there. It was kind of nice but an extremely tacky neighborhood as it was for old folks, mostly well into their 70s. There was a large waterfall out front and many palm trees dotting the sides of the road among various warning signs for speed bumps and pedestrians. One of the ones that intrigued me the most was a red-beaked crane crossing sign. I kept hoping the whole time I would see one around, but with no luck.

I got to their place which was nice and cozy. Most of the furniture was as tacky as the neighborhood, but I'm guessing that's what being elderly is about. They kept a TV in every room, most of which on different channels and playing loudly, and a mini-fridge full of soda cans. I would have prefered something more hydrating, but this trip has refreshed my memory of how good orange soda could be so I greedily drank down several of the non-diet ones they bought for my arrival. We sat around and visited for a bit before they retreated to bed and I sat in one of the most comfortable rocking chairs of my life. I went off to the guest room that featured two old fashioned twin beds. One had towels and an extra blanket on it, and the other was made up for me. It took some time to figure out the switch/light/fan situation but once I did the room was optimized for comfort and sleep took hold.

The following few days were spent lazily visiting with my grandparents, eating well, and helping my grandma run errands while my workaholic grandpa held it down with his endless calls. I tried winning the trust of their antisocial cat named KC, but she wasn't having it. She wasn't accustomed to guests and she wasn't about to start getting accustomed after all this time. I almost remember her being nicer when I was younger but I don't really know how true that is. We stopped by the gym they have there one night but after about 15 minutes of walking my grandma was ready to go. It felt good to move around and do something other than sit so I didn't complain. I was glad to see she was feeling healthy and energetic as she has been undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. She said she's doing well and backed it up by constantly being on the go. Late nights when my grandma went to bed, me and my grandpa would stay up watching old movies on AMC. When he asked me what I usually watch I reluctantly told him that usually at night if I wasn't watching a movie, I'd usually put on Adult Swim. He found Cartoon Network and I was half hoping something like Superjail wouldn't be on, but the other half of me wouldn't mind it for the sake of having a laugh. We watched King of the Hill briefly and he seemed to almost enjoy it (aka: he didn't complain too much) but we chose to watch more American Movie Classics.

After a few days I figured it was time for me to hit my final destination. My grandparents gave me a bag of soda cans and some chalky candy hearts to bring with me along with another $50 McDonald's gift card to be sure I wasn't starving too. I packed up, said goodbye, discussed directions, and set my sights on Orlando.

Atlanta can drink

Here I am, roughly two and a half weeks into my stay in sunny Florida, and no updates in a while. I've barely started this thing and I'm already starting to fall into complacent dormancy. I guess I'll have to force it a little to kind of kick-start the old memory banks.

It was starting to get late by the time I came through to my Uncle Frank's neighborhood. I wasn't sure what to look for as I had never been to this house (the last time I was down to visit him he lived in a small apartment) or seen pictures of it for that matter. But his love of horse racing sold him out as I could tell by a jockey statue in his front yard. When I got inside he showed me to my room, which had a large and comfortable bed that I was beyond stoked for, and we had a couple beers and some pizza from a place up the road. I recharged with two of my main staples and relaxed by watching some movies on TNT or TBS or some nondescript channel that did late night showings of movies that no one really remembers that aren't that old or good after he had gone to bed. He had to go out and take care of some business during the early hours and planned on showing me a night on the town towards the evening. I slept good and hard that night.

The next day I got up and did some reading, watched some TV, and just generally enjoyed the comforts of his place and the fact that I didn't have to go anywhere far in the immediate future. I didn't get out of my pajama pants until at least 2 o'clock in which I decided I should make a run to the nearest convenience store to get some grub and coffee. I picked up a Hot Pocket that tasted vaguely reminiscent of how a wet dog smells, some coffee that was burnt as it was watered down at the same time. I showered just in time for my uncle to get back. We left almost immediately and hit the ground running.

Atlanta, he described to me (totally accurate mind you), was a shot city. Everyone that drinks takes immense amounts of shots. I'm sort of out of practice in this medium as any swill will do it for me and beers are cheap and delicious. Our first stop was this bar near little five points called Vortex. He said he needed a burger and I agreed, and this place had been rated the best burger joint in town multiple years running. I was impressed upon our arrival just by the appearance of the place. The doorway was inside the mouth of a giant skull with neon eyes and the whole outside was painted up. When I saw the burger and beer list I knew I was in heaven. I drank Smithwick's and ate a burger the size of my head and rejoiced.

Having took some time to digest in Vortex, we had a few more beers and moved on. My uncle entertained me with stories of what my family was like when he was a kid, how he ended up in the south, and all sorts of things. A lot of it was news to me which was great, because I never really heard a lot of it before. My great grandparents had a restaurant (DeGregory as opposed to DeGregorio to make it easier from what he said) in Saratoga Springs on Beekman Street that had a lot of Italian celebrities come through at some point because of its proximity to the race track. We went to a few more bars, taking shots of Jagermeister the whole time. Now, keep in mind, I'm six feet tall and roughly 240lbs so I'm no light weight, but keeping up with my uncle and his various friends was a very difficult task. At this one tavern that had a giant broadsword over the bar I thought I was going to boot for a second but I kept it down. No time for that business, we had more stops to make.

We ended at Ralph's Tavern which my uncle owns a chunk of as an investor. It was a nice place with a decent sized bar and a lot of space. I'd like to recall more details but everything kind of went hazy at this point. I met some more of Uncle Frank's friends, had more shots of Jager, and had a buddy burger. Those things are great for drinking because they're not big enough to stuff you, but big enough to be satisfying when the drunk munchies kick in. We had more drinks and called it a night.

I had the intentions of leaving the very next day but my hangover proved way too strong for that to happen. Not even close. That day was meant for rest, and rest I did. The following day, I took off on the longest drive since Ballston Spa to Pittsburgh. Got up early, feeling refreshed, and kept on southbound.

Tennesee to Alabama to Georgia

Another kind of late start leaving Nashville of course. Luckily Atlanta, or more specifically, Marietta (a suburb outside of Atlanta) wasn't much more than 4 hours away. I felt like the beginning of the trip was almost like a roller coaster because as soon as I got past the major city area of Nashville I began an ascent into some kind of mountains only to begin descending again around a half hour later and keep descending for what seemed like the majority of the trip in twists and turns snaking through the hills and valleys of the mountain. The suggested speed for trucks over 4 tons was 40MPH and there were "Runaway Truck" ramps every few miles as if to drive the point home. As if the warnings meant little to the trucks that were greatly over 4 tons, most of them rushed past me at breakneck speeds. You all know my fondness for heights, so you could imagine a nervous Colin cussing out tailgaters and those guilty of cutting me off.

Speaking of things I'm fond of, roadside attractions rank pretty high up there and I feel as though so far I haven't treated myself to many thus far. A good way to get a person's attention, especially mine, is to have convincing billboards. This is how Tennessee/Alabama Fireworks came into my life. There were signs all over for miles trying to convince me to get off at exit 152, take exit 152, everything you need is at exit 152, etc. I mean shit, goofy novelties and fireworks in one stop? They might as well offered hand jobs and free leather jackets made out of the skin of religious deities. I was convinced. Exit 152 (or 153, don't quote me on it) rolled around and I got off to find my paradise. I knew it was going to be everything I expected because of the giant neon sign I could see from the highway. There's not much better than being excited on something that you know is exactly what you expected it to be. This was mecca.

Walking slowly, I navigated the rows of firecrackers, M-80s, bottle rockets, roman candles, mortars, and everything good in the world. I was overwhelmed and must have looked around for at the very least 20 minutes before I realized I could purchase such wares from THE VERY SHOP I WAS IN. I greedily snatched up some roman candles and a bag of M-80s that there is a 99% chance I will never use up as if I didn't act fast this opportunity would disappear. I loaded up, got some postcards, and went to the counter. A couple was eating behind a glass case featuring knives and corn cob pipes and I realized how hungry I was at that point. The sun was almost down so I had been driving for a while. I eyed a Waffle House across the street as he was ringing me up when I noticed cigarette loads. For those of you not familiar, cigarette loads are meant to explode upon lighting when put into the tip of a cigarette. It's great for laughs. The guy thought my excited reaction was funny enough to give me some for free.

I left, eying the Waffle House across the street even harder now and figured I might as well put the rest of the drive on hold. I had never had Waffle House food before and it seemed appropriate to have it now in this small mountain town. I drove across the street and went in. There was a young girl working the counter that I almost expected to be there. She was short and chubby with an outrageous southern accent busting the chops of the zitty teenager working the waffle irons with great delight. She had a big smile and called the patrons "sugar" and "honey" and names of that caliber while waiting on them. I got a basic meal that came with a waffle, hash browns, toast, eggs, and bacon in appropriate proportions as to not get overly stuffed. It was a pleasurable experience, albeit the stares of the other diners got to be a bit much towards the end when more travelers came through.

Driving again, the sun finished its course under the horizon and I flipped on my headlights. Of course! The mileage! I had almost forgot how close it was to rolling over to 150,000 miles! This would have been as unforgivable as when I missed my ill-fated Civic turn over to 200k about two years ago, like hell was I going to miss this one. Those 50 miles seemed to go by slowly as every five minutes I kept looking down to see my progress if for anything than just to remind me that it was going to happen. I, of course, forgot about it for a long period of time but remembered at the last minute and looked down to see the last two miles fly by. A proud moment. I've grown reluctantly attached to this car over the period I've owned it, especially with the shit it's put me through, but it was like we had a bonding moment.

Crossing a bridge over a lake surrounded by a faint night mist dusted with headlights of the cars around me, I felt tranquil. I coasted the remanding distance to the Georgia state line.

Nashville Postscript:

We almost threw water balloons at Gene Simmons. I wish we had went through with it.