Vroom, vroom . . .

We are going for a drive today. A very long spin on the interstate to St. Augustine to blow out the carburetor of my Miata. If it had a carburetor. Actually it has a gunked up catalytic converter. Maybe. My mechanic isn't sure. But I still like him. This is a last ditch effort to get rid of that infernal engine light that had been glaring at me from my dash board lo these many months. We are hoping for self correction.

I love tooling along the interstate in a car the size of a jelly bean, getting whiplash every time a semi blows past me. Miata's were not made for long straight stretches of asphalt doing 85 mph. They were made for winding, curb hugging switchbacks . . . screaming down country lanes . . . jockey rocketing off stop lights . . . they were made to spin out in loose gravel and ricochet back under control . . . not that I would know any of that first hand . . . Lord, I love my little aged Miata. It pains me to see it ailing.

Anyway. That's where we are going. Oh, and of course my camera is coming too. If I left him behind, he would get all weepy which of course would cause major internal damage and we can't have that.

Oh and did I mention it's a drop dead gorgeous day . . .

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The main street of historic St. Augustine.


This is the least crowded I have ever seen it and the weather is perfect.


The entrance to one of the museums.


OK, so wherever I go, there is some type of oddity. I am an oddity magnet. I just happened to like this one.


I hate interstate driving. Have I mentioned that? I really do. And who wants to drive with a passel of road rage enhanced lunatics when they can drive home along the ocean instead.


I'm just asking . . .