This was my anxiously awaited 3-day weekend where I was looking forward to exploring the Everglades. You know about the Everglades, don’t you? Where the population of ‘gators handily outnumbers the population of people?
Back at home, you have to laugh when the weather forecast calls for partly cloudy, and it is raining so hard against your bedroom window that the noise wakes you up early. And on top of that you can see lightning and hear thunder roar. Sheesh. Someone got that prediction wrong.
Not only that, but looking at today’s Yahoo weather forecast for Good Friday in Everglades City they were reporting the weather for today, tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. True story.
If you don’t see the joke in the paragraph above then just ask yourself if Everglades City is literally behind the times. By at least a day, if nothing else. You have to wonder.
To add insult to injury, try as hard as I can ol’ John simply can never get on the road as early as he wants to. Today's Good Friday departure is no exception. A few last minute errands run and I’ve ridden 60 miles without ever leaving Jacksonville and I’m right back at my house, looking for my missing sunglasses, only to find them stuffed inside something else that was already packed on my bike. Arghh!
OK, so it’s going to be a lousy start to the trip. I figured that I’d at least treat myself to adecent lunch, so I headed towards the local upscale sushi restaurant. Just remember the motto: “When the going gets tough, the tough eat raw fish.”
When I do finally get on the road it is raining. And raining harder by the minute. Traffic crawls along I-95 down to Daytona. I am seldom out of 4th gear (of 6 gears) and am often stopped, sitting in traffic and in the rain. Rolling into Daytona and getting ready to take the I-4 turnoff to go towards Orlando there is enough standing water on the Interstate to unnerve drivers of small, easy-to-hydroplane cars. Traffic is cautiously crawling along, and smart drivers in cars are seeking shelter. And here I am, riding a motorcycle ...
Going into Sanford the winds pick up to near gale force intensity, lightning is striking nearby, visibility sucks, and I’ve pretty well decided that I need to stop for fuel anyway. I don’t mind being wet, but becoming either a lightning rod or winding under the wheels of some person who loses it in a driving rainstorm isn’t my idea of a productive day.
Standing around soaking wet at a convenience store, watching Orlando traffic crawl by, and hearing folks comment on how glad they are that they aren’t riding a motorcycle on a nasty day like today reminds me of two slogans that every aspiring writer should keep in mind:
#1: “Don’t give up the day job.”
And #2, the motto that I have printed on my business checks. “Pontius sero quam numquam.” Latin for “Better late than never.”
(That’s true by the way. I really do have that on my business checks. Be scared – you aren’t dealing with a normal mind here.)
But being on the road has its benefits. Clearly, things are never dull. Coming through the rain in Daytona I saw a large 45 ft. bus with a “Girls Gone Wild” mural covering the entire bus. I figure that had to be the film production crew. Man, what a gig that would be, but I could never work with a crew that was filming topless gals all the time because I’m sure that my cardiologist would object …
Interestingly, in shooting the breeze with the locals in Sanford, they were not expecting rain either, never mind a monsoon. They were also expecting a warm and sunny day. This was not a good day for modern weather prediction.
My first night's stop on this trip was scheduled to be the Desert Inn at the tiny little crossroads of Yeehaw Junction, FL, which at this point was perhaps 80-100 miles to the south. I called them at the Desert Inn and they reported that the weather was in the 80’s and sunny. Go figure.
So I got back on the bike and fought the traffic and nasty weather into Orlando.
Coming out of one of the tollbooths on the Florida’s Turnpike I could feel the temperature dramatically surge upwards. Instead of being cold and rainy the weather was now overcast but dry and much warmer. Thunderstorm clouds were trying to form south of me and it was clearly time to hold the throttle open and to try to outrun the rain.
Normally the Desert Inn at Yeehaw Junction doesn’t reserve rooms but I guess that the owner could tell that she was either dealing with a nut or a desperate man, because she agreed to hold the room as long as I called back by 6PM to at least give them my status. I did, and somewhere around 6:30 Yours Truly came riding into the Desert Inn just ahead of a storm front. I was wearing rain gear, a fleece jacket, and wearing an electrically heated vest. Everyone else in the place was wearing t-shirts and shorts. You could tell that it had been yet another weird day in the life of a Pirate.
There was quite a crowd of locals, and they were telling me that there had been three ladies on bikes that had left 30 minutes earlier. One of the old phartes that was there was bragging about how he tried to hit on one of the ladies. When he went to the restroom one of the other patrons told me that what the first guy didn’t know was that the ladies proudly told everyone else, when he wasn’t listening, that they were of a different sexual persuasion and that they were stringing this guy on.
Hmmmmm.
Poor old drunken dude. I doubt if he would have known what to do if the ladies had been more, uh, "cooperative." Hopefully this isn't a sign of things to look forward to as us old motorcyclists slip less and less gracefully into old age. 'specially since this guy was beginning to look more and more like the poster boy for Clueless Old Men.
The Desert Inn at Yeehaw Junction, FL:
If you want fancy dining thisain't the place. If you will die if you don't get prompt service then you might want to mosey on to somewhere else. If you want fancy lodging then you might want to drive the 25 miles over to I-95.
But if you want to experience just a taste of what the Everglades were like when cattle roamed free, the 'gators were dining on burgers instead of pets, and Indians and black folks worked the open range as cowboys, then drop by the Desert Inn.
This is the kind of place where the roosters still roam outside the buildings. Where the locals all know to slow down ‘lest they run over a chick crossing the road. And where the chicken on the menu may be unusually fresh. It’s a throwback to another age.
You have an interesting mix of folks dropping by the Desert Inn these days. This is a popular place for riders and many poker runs come through here. The Desert Inn is at a crossroads (Rt. 441 and Rt. 60, and within sight of Exit 193 of the Florida's Turnpike) and plenty of truckers and tourists also drop by. Quite a few of those tourists walk in, look around, decide that this isn't Disney and they keep heading on down the road. Which is too bad, because in addition to being a bar with quite a bit of history, the Desert Inn also has a restaurant with good sandwiches and hearty breakfasts.
The history: Yeehaw Junction was established as a water depot for steam trains in the late 1800's. By 1920 a trading post was in place to take care of cowboys that were moving cattle between the Seminole reservations further south and settled areas like Orlando.
Dad Wilson bought the property where the Desert Inn stands in the 1930's and began to fix it up some. Legend has it that Dad was a hobo who got kicked off the railroad here. He 'borrowed' lumber from a nearby sawmill and the rest is history.
The Desert Inn then went through several owners. In 1946 there was still no electricity or running water, but a well was dug and a generator installed that produced electricity which was shared with other locals. During this period rooms were built upstairs and were rented. Sometimes by the hour, and with the option of female company, if'n you get my drift. More mainstream business ventures included dining rooms (with separate rooms for white folks with Indians and black folks eating in another room) and pumping gasoline.
Another thriving business venture that was started up was jackass farming. The story goes that when the Turnpike was built in the 50's and Greyhound bus service needed a name for a stop, the name Yeehaw Junction stuck. No doubt that sounded better than the other suggestions: Jackass Crossing and Working Girl Trail.
In 1994 the Desert Inn was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. The Desert Inn claims to be the only (former) brothel on the Register.
The bar and restaurant: There is a decent selection of cold beer, and some good sandwiches. I ordered a steak and thought that it was OK even if Waffle House does a similar one for less money. They sandwiches are much better and I overheard some tourists talking about how the gatorburger tasted well ... almost like chicken. But good chicken at that!
The orginal inn was upstairs of the bar, where the brothel museum (temporarily closed because of the 2004 hurricanes and open to visitors only by special invitation) is at now. Today's lodging is a ramshackle series of 11 rooms out back behind the bar.
This is your basic working class low-budget (usually $35/night) motel that caters to a lot of blue collar folks passing through, some locals that are frankly down on their luck, and the occasional sportsman or drinker stopping by the bar. Once again, we aren't talking anything fancy here. My room was clean even if the bed linens showed some signs of previous hard usage, there was tape on the door to keep the water and wind of heavy storms out, and one blind over the window consisted of an old green blanket that had been taped to the wall. However, there was television (this is rural Florida and the religious stations come in REAL good), air conditioning that worked, and a lock on the door that was secure. The Desert Inn doesn't take reservations and there are no other motels for miles around, so factor that into your equation --the rooms lookpretty darned good late at night after you've had a few drinks, especially since your only other alternative might be to curl up underneath a trailer at the truckstops a quarter of a mile away. All-in-all I’d say that the rooms here aren’t the place to bring a new date if you want to impress her with your good taste, but as an alternative to riding 30 miles to fnd another motel or camping out they are fine.
For a little more info on the Desert Inn check out their website at http://www.desertinnrestaurant.com/index.html
More to come later …
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