A pair of barely worn, and recently purchased consignment wedges literally fell apart on me unlike the ones shown here. (Quick thanks to this e-bay seller's image.)
The right sole had come unhinged from the wedge; I tried to superglue it back on. Moments later, the seams from the strap on the left sandal ripped as I was checking my adhesive handiwork on the right.
All this to say, I was forced to go barefoot for a few hours. Of course, the incident triggered a moment of reflection considering I had never encountered a situation where both foot protectors go at once.
Have you? If so, please share your story?
Walking around with naked feet felt exhilarating, and strange.
When I was a kid, I had no issues going barefoot. To be frank, I used to stub the corners of my big toes -- peeled skin, blood and all -- from my incessant running on streets and sidewalks. Thus, in a way, I felt like a kid again.
No cares in the world.
Just me, the ground, and my feet.
However, I felt strange explaining to people what had happened and carrying the sandals as evidence of my misfortune. While a younger me wishes to attach some meaning behind this naked feet story with my upcoming solo motorcycle journey, the older, wiser me knows not to hashtag some elaborate metaphor to it: there just isn't one.
Figuring out the routes to ride through Florida has become my new obsession.
I determine a route, do some research, then, change my route.
Whether I like it or not, the route will just have to happen organically.
As of now, meaning today's post, I have my heart set on riding from route 60 to state road 39 toward Plant City and Zephrhills. Then, shift from 39 to state road 54 to Old Pasco Road. From there, move onto state road 52 which leads to route 19 (later 98).
All that will change if I stop in Brooksville. There, I scoped out a tranquil airbnb home in the area, and may end up taking some slightly different paths.
Luckily, I have a giant paper map of Florida. The town in red on the map below is Steinhatchee: don't know much about the place, but online it looks inviting.
With respect to the broader journey, I did receive the Great River Road map from the Mississippi River Parkway Commission.
The map offers significant detail for us road warriors.
Just south of Baton Rouge is near where my specific trek upriver will start.
If you look closely, you will see a town called St. Francisville. It was featured in my other book about best small towns in the country. Obviously, several other places are listed, too.
Hugging the east side takes you through Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois and Wisconsin.
The river meanders through the center of Minnesota. However, as you travel down the western portion of the Mississippi, it again serves as a boundary separating the "heartland"
states of the Midwest.
On this side, you would travel through Iowa and Missouri followed by Arkansas, then again, through Louisiana.
Not running out of gas will be a challenge. My tank holds just over 100 miles worth, so I will need to be vigilant about refueling whenever possible.
Today's lyrical upload called Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers hails from a text message from the awesome (she loves that adjective) Emily. Her text stated: "for some reason it reminds me of you."