Mango Bob (15 page)

But boring as hell.

Just put it on cruise control and point the steering wheel. And try not to doze off.

After four hours, the boredom finally gets to me and I pull into the rest area near Monticello. Need to get out and stretch my legs.

Before getting out, I go back and check on Bob.

He's asleep on the bed.

Good. Easy to sneak out when he's sleeping.

I step out the side door and lock it behind me. Then walk the two mile nature trail around the rest area.

On my way back to the coach, I stop in the vending area and get a coke and an assortment of Florida destination brochures. The coke's caffeine will keep me awake. The brochures will be for late night reading.

Back at the Love Bus, I tap on the side door to get Bob's attention. Then sneak over to the drivers door and climb in.

No escape attempt by Bob. That's three rounds for me, one for Bob.

He probably isn't keeping score. But I am.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chips and a Coke for lunch. Not health food, but better than not eating.

After lunch, I check the freezer to make sure the TV dinners are still frozen. They are. One of them will be my dinner tonight.

Refreshed from the walk and the snack, I head back onto I-10. It'll be another two hours before my exit. Then another two hours before I reach the state park.

Not much to tell about this part of the drive. Good roads, not much traffic. Boredom with a capital 'B'.

36

After driving three hundred miles on I-10, it is a relief to finally get to Highway 19 South, also known as the Florida/Georgia parkway.

To celebrate, I stop at the Chevron station at the off ramp and fuel up. Another hundred dollars spent on gas.

After paying at the pump, I go inside and buy two bags of peanut M&Ms. Something to snack on while on the road.

Bob is still asleep when I get back in the coach. He didn't even bother to try to escape. He is adapting well.

I grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge. With my two bags of M&Ms and the cold water, I'm ready to hit the road again.

I pull out of the Chevron station and head south. It'll be another two hours before the day's drive is over.

Many years ago, this was the main road to south Florida. But with the advent of the interstate system, most travelers no longer bother with back roads like this one.

For me, this means very little traffic, and being in a motorhome, I like that.

The road is in surprisingly good condition. Recently repaved, and wide shoulders on both sides. The terrain is mostly flat, bordered on both sides by pine forests and the occasional cow pasture.

Every few miles, I see remnants of old Florida. Abandoned mom and pop motels well past their glory days.

With so little traffic on 19, it isn't surprising there aren't any tourist attractions. No theme parks. No beach bunnies. Just tropical wilderness, with small towns every ten to fifteen miles.

After two hours of driving, I reach Chiefland, a town of about 6,000. From Chiefland, signs lead me to Manatee Springs State Park, my final stop for the day.

At the park entrance, a ranger greets me at the gate. “Welcome to Manatee Springs. You staying with us tonight?”

“Yes, I have a reservation. The name's Walker.”

“Ah yes, here it is. Says you are staying just the one night. Is that correct?”

“Yes, just tonight.”

“OK, you're going to be in loop A, site 93. Drive slowly into the park, and take the first right. Your campsite is about half way around the loop.”

“Here's a map of the campground and some information about the park, along with camp rules and regulations.

“We lock the park entrance gates at sunset and unlock them at dawn. Once the gates are locked, no one can enter or leave the campground.

“If an emergency comes up, you can contact the camp host to get the gate unlocked.

“Any questions?”

“Do I need to worry about alligators?”

The ranger laughed. “While there's always the chance of a gator just about anywhere in Florida, we haven't had a problem with them here.

“Your biggest problem will be squirrels and raccoons. They'll get into your food if you leave it out overnight.”

I thank the ranger and head to my campsite.

It's easy to find. Like he said, first road to the right, and about half way around the loop.

My site is under large trees with no nearby neighbors. Just the way I like it.

I drive past the site, stop and back in just as Jack had shown me back in Arkansas. Satisfied with my parking job, I cut the motor and go back to check on Bob.

He's pretty much where I expected him to be. On the bed. “Bob, we've stopped for the day. You can get up and move around now.”

I get his standard greeting and all-around reply, “Murrpff,” followed by an odd sound as he stretches and yawns at the same time.

He jumps down from the bed and checks his food and water.

“Murpph.”

Satisfied that both bowls are full, he bumps my leg, stretches again, and jumps up on the back of the dinette seat to look out the window.

Since the weather outside is so nice, I open all the windows to air out the inside. The screens on the windows will keep the bugs out and Bob in.

With the windows open, sounds of birds and squirrels fill the coach, along with the scent of tropical plants.

Bob comes alive as he sees a squirrel flicking his tail on a tree limb just a few feet in front of him. He stares at the squirrel for a few moments, then starts making a clucking sound deep in his throat. The stump of his tail twitching back and forth.

With Bob on patrol, I can relax. He'll protect us if the squirrels decide to invade.

It'd been three hours since our last stop and I need to 'freshen up' a bit. Then a long walk to stretch my legs.

Since Bob is focused on the wildlife outside his window, it's easy for me to sneak out without worrying about his escaping.

A walk around the coach reveals no problems. All is good.

I'm only spending one night, so I'm not going to hook up to campground water. My fresh water tank is half full. More than enough for the rest of my journey.

But I will need to hook up to shore power if I want to use the microwave to cook dinner. So I unlock the utility compartment and connect the power cable to the 30amp outlet on the campground utility pole.

When I flip the breaker, I hear the microwave beep inside the coach.

Success.

Time for my walk, but first, lock all the doors.

I'm not expecting a crime problem in the campground, but no need chancing it.

The map the ranger had given me shows a trail that begins about forty yards beyond my campsite. I follow the trail for about one hundred yards through a tropical forest until it ends at a large open plaza. Benches, a concession stand - closed for the night - and canoe rentals - also closed.

On the far side of the plaza, several people are leaning against a metal railing looking down. Presumably looking at the springs the campground is named for.

Among the group of people, Jack and Jean.

I walk up behind them, “You guys been here long?”

Jack turned, “Hey Walker. Glad to see you made it. We got here about an hour ago. How was your drive?”

“No problem. The coach drove well, and other than the boredom on I-10, it was great.”

Jean smiled, “So, what do you think of this place?”

“I like it. Camping in a tropical forest. And this weather is so nice.”

“If you like this weather, you're going to love Florida in the winter. And the further you travel south, the nicer the weather gets.”

Jean pointed toward the springs, “There's a manatee! Come see!”

Looking in the direction she was pointing, I could see the head of a very large creature moving slowly in the water. Beside it were two smaller ones.

Someone in the crowd said, “Babies! That one has babies!”

We watched as the manatees moved around in the spring, swimming with their noses above the water and their massive bodies following.

Jean looked over at me, “Manatees come up to the spring from the Suwanee River. Sometimes you'll see as many as ten at a time. They are attracted by the warmer water this time of year. ”

A family with small children walked up to view the manatees. I moved back so they could get a closer look.

Jean moved back to where I was standing. “Have you been on the boardwalk yet? It goes all the way out to the river.”

“No, but a long walk sounds good. How do I get to it?”

“Just follow me. I'll walk with you.”

37

“What about Jack? Isn't he coming with us?”

“Don't worry about Jack, he'll be along in a minute.

“Right now it's just me and you. Unless you're embarrassed to be walking with an old woman like me?”

“Jean, you're not much older than me.”

“Thanks for the compliment. But I've got grandchildren almost as old as you. Not that it means I'm old. I can probably out walk you any day!”

Jean paused, then said, “I've been thinking about what you said about your divorce and losing your job.

“That's a lot to take on at one time. If you ever want to talk about it with someone, give me a call.” She handed me a card with her phone number on it.

“Jean, I appreciate the offer. And I just might take you up on it. But what will Jack think if I call you?”

“Don't worry about Jack. He likes you. In fact, he's probably going to want to keep in touch with you. He needs a fishing and RV buddy.

“He's been retired from the force for almost five years and most of his close buddies have gotten old or moved on. He has room for a new friend in his life. Especially one that shares his interest in motorhomes.

“You should see how happy he is when he talks to me about showing you things in your motorhome. Or when he gets to help route your trip.

“It gives him something to do. Makes him feel good that someone values his expertise.”

I was glad to hear this. Jack had helped me a lot on this trip. I'd hoped I wasn't a burden.

As we continued along the boardwalk through the cypress swamp, I asked, “You mentioned Jack had retired from the force? What kind of force?”

“Jack was a police officer for thirty years in Boston. He started out as a rookie cop, and ended up as a Detective Supervisor.

“Really? Jack was a Boston Police Detective?”

“Yep, and not just a detective. He was a Detective Supervisor, which meant all the detectives in his district reported directly to him.

“He handled many major cases, some you've probably heard of. But when he retired, he wanted to get as far away from Boston as he could. That's how we ended up in Colorado.

“But lately the cold winters in Colorado have been bothering him. He's been hinting about moving to Florida permanently.”

I was thinking about the coincidence of Jack being a former Boston detective, and the call Molly had received from the Boston detective reporting on Harvey Tucker's death.

“Jean, do you think Jack would mind if I asked him some questions about a police investigation?”

She smiled, “Honey, he'd love it. In fact, if you get him started, you might not be able to shut him up!”

38

We were at the end of the boardwalk overlooking the Suwanee river when Jack caught up with us.

Jean pointed to the setting sun over the peaceful river, “Quite a sight.”

I agreed, “You were right. This is an amazing place. Like stepping back in time.”

Jack put his arm around Jean, “This is one of our favorite spots. We stop here every time we travel this way.

“I keep promising Jean that one day we'll stay longer. Maybe take the kayak tours the park offers. But I'm always in a hurry to get down to Venice.”

Jean looked at Jack, “You're like a man on a mission when we get on the road. You map out the route, set the schedule, then worry about getting off track.

“You forget we are retired. We don't have any schedules or deadlines to meet.”

Jack sighed, “You're right. I treat these road trips like a military campaign. I'll try to do better.”

Jean smiled and gave him a hug. “That's all I ask.”

Then she looked at me, “Walker, wasn't there something you wanted to ask Jack? About his days on the force?”

This was my cue. “Jack, Jean was telling me you were with the Boston police. That sounds pretty interesting.”

“It was. Until politics got in the way of police work. Keeping the mayor happy became more important than getting criminals off the street.

“After thirty years, I wasn't in sync with the college boys running the department. It was time for me to leave.