The Florida summer fine-line between fun and crazy

You know, in Florida there has always been a fine line between really fun and really stupid. I don’t know why that is. And I say this as a third generation Floridian. It means I can say it without having anyone read into too deeply into it. Look, we all know it’s true. And no one can say for sure what causes it.

It just is. That’s Florida.

It causes us to do crazy things. Like try to tickle alligators to see if they laugh. Drive at incredibly high speeds on the interstate while hanging out the window. Buy expensive houses on the coast. Go to Disney World in August.

Let me repeat: Go to Disney World in the HEAT of August. The blistering, driving, pounding, unrelenting heat. The kind that will turn the weak into beef jerky in a matter of minutes. And because a pandemic is still going on, will mean you have to wear masks in various locations. One more layer of fabric to keep in the heat.

This is what we decided to do as a family last week. One last hoorah before the start of the school year. A quick overnight trip to Orlando and a day in the park. Crowds were supposed to be slightly thinner, and average temperatures only slightly higher than the surface of the sun.

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Travel is great, but there’s no place like home

Ah, it’s good to be home.

I love to travel. LOVE to travel.

I love packing a suitcase. I love trip checklists. I love the nervous feeling you get when you head out the door, and the excited feeling you get when you arrive. I love buying coffee in strange places. I love trying to figure out how I’m going to manage to go for a run when I only packed one running shoe. (Good thing I brought the duct tape and my flip-flops!)

But there are few things better about traveling than coming home.

I love to come home.

Maybe the best thing about traveling is appreciating how important home is. How welcoming. How comforting. How reassuring.

This is especially true after spending 13 days on vacation, with the last one stuck in a car for 14 hours on a rainy slog from Virginia on the Friday before the Fourth of July.

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Trials and tribulations on a summer road trip

Ah, the good ‘ole American road trip. Nothing makes you feel more alive and in touch with your roots than cramming more stuff in your car than you could use in a year. You set off down the highway in a vehicle so unbalanced that a ladybug fluttering at you aggressively could tip it over. And before you make it two blocks, you realize you forgot your wallet, your toothbrush and maybe even your child.

Two blocks and you’re already heading back home.

Yes, it’s the greatest of experiences. Your back aches. The coffee is usually bad. Most of the hundreds of miles you see are entirely unremarkable, aside from the occasional billboards for “adult stores” that truckers frequent and you have to explain to your child why people like us don’t go there. Luckily, my child is now 15, which means she has zero interest in looking out the window. She has an iPhone and a Kindle that she watches simultaneously, and I spend most of the trip yelling: “Those are going to rot your brain. Now look out the window and count the garbage!”

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With a road trip coming, it’s travel gadget time

I think I might be addicted. Like having a serious problem. Gone-to-Vegas-and-decided-to-become-a-professional-Keno-player problem. Or decided to join a cult. Or stayed up for three days straight trying to beat a video game. (And I don’t even play videogames!)

But all of those would be easy. Instead, I’m hooked on travel gadgets and accessories, and I don’t know how to beat the habit.

It’s been spawned by a new car and an upcoming trip that will see us head off to North Carolina and Virginia, where we’ll zip along winding mountain roads in search of dallying mountain streams. And waterfalls!

It’s a road trip. A rambler. A spend-lots-of time-in-the-car vacation that I dream about. Highways open up in front of you, stretching out for miles in every direction. Just inviting you to come and drive until your butt goes numb and you can’t feel the gas-pedal anymore.

I’m not sure why that’s fun, but I love it.

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A Florida camping expedition beset by dust and sink holes

Dusty tent? De-dusted. Vehicle? Three-inch crust of dirt chipped loose with industrial chisels and diamond-coated scrapers. Body? Soaped, scrubbed and exfoliated. But … still needs another 18 or 19 full washes, plus a professional-grade pressure washing. All to get the layers of grime, bug spray, sweat, dirt and other varieties of filth completely off.

And that was just from one night of camping.

What would it have been with two?!?

This was our big family camping excursion. The one my daughter has been asking to go on. The one my brother signed us up for, along with his wife, 7-year-old nephew and my dad. Dragged us all out to a Central Florida state park along a river with water the color of bad coffee. He picked it special because it’s also known for ensuring you get to see more dust than water.

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Summer planning and the family camping trip

It’s May. That means it’s officially time for summer trip planning. When you get vacation on the brain. When all you think about is bending the laws of physics so you can fit 32 tons of luggage into a vehicle cargo area that can barely hold three grocery bags.

We have all manner of things planned to keep a travel-planning nut like me busy. But first up this month is something I got talked into: a camping trip with family.

This combines two things I don’t like to do when I travel: camp OR go with family.

I know that sounds terrible. Because millions of people love to camp. But it just hasn’t been my thing in a long while. And family are great, but when I travel, I really just like to go with my wife and daughter. Maybe the dog.

Extended family are wildcards. They make a neurotic planner like me – who is into controlled situations, precise itineraries and low-drama – shutter at the unknowns and variables.

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The outdoor weekend excursion planning checklist

All right! The weather is finally starting to turn a little more spring-like. That means we native Floridians are less likely to die of frostbite or hypothermia when we take the garbage to the curb. (Almost didn’t make it back last week. Lost three toes.) This also means we can begin venturing back into the wilds in search of adventure through hiking, kayaking, fishing and for some really extreme types, cross country cornhole.

So, as you begin to consider what outdoor adventures you might search out as the first twinklings of spring arrive, I’ve put together a checklist of items to help you begin planning your outdoor weekend excursions:

• Taking your dog with you will be an excellent idea and a truly enjoyable experience … right up to the moment that she throws up all over the back seat because she remembers how as a puppy she used to get motion sickness. It is important to keep in mind at moments like this: The idea was truly terrible and someone else should be blamed for it.

• When you head out with family and set a time to leave, remember this: They always stop for coffee and donuts. So, add two hours to your actual departure time and plan to sleep in.

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The travel packer’s transcendental journey

“Do you think we will travel when we retire?” my wife asked.

I had a long packing list in front of me, and I was meticulously going down it … machete, pocket knife, backup pocket knife, formal pocket knife, pocket knife for casual outing. You know, one that says, “Hey, I don’t want to mug you, but … like … I could.”

“Travel when we retire?” I said. “Sure. I hope so … a lot!”

I got the feeling maybe she was thinking the opposite. Probably because of the whole pocket knife thing. And when I asked, “Can you fit some of these knives in your suitcase?”

Plus, the packing. In general, everything about the packing.

We were heading to North Carolina. A little house outside of Asheville. A few nights there amongst the trees and the streams and the chilly weather. A fall getaway. We took my daughter and the dog, then meandered along the Blue Ridge Parkway. We strolled the trails and sat out on the house’s upstairs porch, watching the sun rise above the mountains. It turned the whole land shades of orange and brown and yellow. Like all the trees had caught on fire. I thought sunrises above the Atlantic Ocean were special. But mountains as a backdrop? In the cool, dewy North Carolina air? It’s my new favorite.

I love to travel. And maybe as importantly, I love planning to travel. It’s as much about getting there as it is being there, and I truly embrace that part of the journey. Especially when it comes to packing.

I like to pack!

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The dad and daughter drive

“Wo,” she told me while sitting down in the passenger seat. “I’ve never gone on a trip this long upfront.”

“Wo” was right, as the same thing struck me.

A 3-hour car ride to Tampa. Just a few inches apart. What in the heck does a dad and his 14-year-old daughter talk about for that long?

Wo!

It was just a dad and his daughter getting away to visit some family. The two of us. My sister was in town from Chicago. My dad wanted to show off the tear-drop trailer he was building. We hadn’t seen my aunt in who-knows-how-long, and you always need to make sure she’s staying out of trouble.

It was something we hadn’t done – couldn’t have done – in the longest time as everyone battened down the COVID hatches and stayed close to home. As safe as we were being – masked up and carrying an extra 50-gallon drum of hand sanitizer – it was stretching us out of our safe confines and comfort zones.

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Searching for peace and laziness in a summer staycation

Some people rave about “staycations.” Taking a week off at home where you can do any number of things like a tourist in your own town. Even enjoy the pluses of your home like you’re a visitor, not the custodian.

I took a week off this past week with just such an idea in mind. Chill out. Read a book with some tea. Go to the beach. Get that worry-free brain that comes standard on vacation. Have not a care in the world.

Do a few house projects.

Do … a … few … house … projects!

And that is when the whole staycation idea fell apart. RIP! BOOM! SPLAT!

Maybe not for everyone. Some, I’m sure, can walk about their house and tune out the little projects and problems and perplexities staring them in the face. Can see their house not as a maintenance mountain, but a relaxing, restful respite to take them away from their troubles.

But I am a tinkerer. A putterer. A Mr. Semi-Fix-It who is a bit to OCD to chill when there is stuff to repair. The kind of guy who says, “I’m going to take my tea and this good book and … WAIT … WHY IS THE FAN MAKING THAT CLICKING NOISE!?! I better get up there and disassemble it.”

So goes the week …

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