Windy, Cold, Fried Chicken To Die For

It was cold and windy—cold enough to stiffen a man’s resolve and windy enough to test it—but after missing several riding days, my spirit was in no mood for negotiation. It was a full-throated “WHOO!” kind of morning. The sun, at least, had shown up bright and handsome, as if to apologize for the rest of the weather’s behavior.

I did not expect much of a turnout at GTD. In fact, I expected something between sparse and imaginary. But the world occasionally surprises a fellow when he least deserves it. There was JoeJoe, Tommy steady as ever, and then—like an unexpected clause in a contract—Sandy S.

Now Sandy arrived in her Corvette, which is already a statement. But Sandy was wearing a motorcycle helmet while driving it. I have learned not to ask unnecessary questions in this life; the answers often require effort. I will simply note that by this method Sandy remains alive and well on the intercom, and also remember “Wonderment”.

Remember the word of the day, win a sawbuck.

You may recall the two guiding words of this expedition: “Wonderment” and “Character.” They will be described later in much greater detail.

We had to meet Ken C. in Crestview, and before long there were 7 Sandies assembled—an arrangement that sounds improbable but was entirely factual. We rode 148 miles enjoying the day, by which I mean we wrestled the wind, admired the sunshine, and pretended not to notice our fingers going numb.

That wind made itself particularly known heading north. I am convinced it affected my gas mileage. Now, I am told by sober-minded individuals that this is not strictly possible. But I felt it in my soul—and more importantly, in my wallet. If a man cannot blame the wind for his fuel consumption, what comfort has he left? So I blamed it freely and felt better at once.

We met Ken and traveled 81 miles to Florala and Summers Kitchen. I am aware that common maps and lesser mathematicians would suggest a shorter distance. However, we were employing the Tim Method, which measures miles the way a fisherman measures bass—with generosity and conviction. By that system, it was 81 miles and not a foot less.

Summers Kitchen is a country buffet of high moral standing. First-class pork chops, fried chicken that could mend family feuds, fish of commendable character, and all the sides a person could reasonably request without requiring a wheelbarrow. Even the dessert carried itself with distinction. The price was so reasonable it bordered on civic virtue. Good food, fine folks running the place, and fair pricing—what more can a Sandie ask for on a Sunday Adventure

We headed back by the long and winding road, which is to say we chose the scenic route..

Now we can talk about those special words I asked you to remember, oh forgot them already huh.  Well, there goes your chance at a sawbuck, bucko.

“Wonderment” belongs to Sandy. It is my polite term for the way she greets each day as if it has been freshly invented just for her. Some might choose a less charitable phrase—like Bat Shit Crazy—but I prefer “Wonderment.” With Sandy, every ride is a new chapter, and sometimes an entirely new book hence “Wonderment”

“Character,” on the other hand, came courtesy of Tommy. We encountered a stretch of road that had clearly not benefited from the county surtax for road improvement. I confess, that is one tax I support wholeheartedly. Paving clay roads so I may enjoy them at speed seems a fair exchange. But this particular road had been overlooked.

Tommy, with admirable diplomacy, referred to it as having “Character.” Thus another word enters the Sandie lexicon.

And it did indeed have character—creative potholes, and opinions about suspension systems. It was less a road and more a suggestion of one.

But between Wonderment and Character, sunshine and wind, good friends and better food, it turned out to be exactly the sort of day a man rides for.

Cold, windy, but remember great food and company—and entirely worth it.

Thank You JoeJoe for the pictures