Before the course started I rode down to Sarasota to visit a buddy from Ottawa who lives here in the winter. Dave owns the pool hall down the road from where my store was. The plan was to go for lunch, but it became an epic pub crawl that included beers at a yacht club, watching the sunset from a stool in a Tiki Bar, karaoke, and finishing with a night shooting pool at “The Lizard Lounge”. I kid you not. I picked the place out when trolling through the GPS for one last bar. How could you not want to check out a place with a name like that? It took most of the next day before I felt halfway civilized again.
3 Years ago when I was down here I met some youngsters on
sport bikes at a gas station and they took me to a series of abandoned roads
that was meant to be a subdivision. When the recession hit the developer walked
away, leaving behind a couple miles of perfectly smooth freshly paved asphalt
roads that weaved back and forth with no curbs or obstructions to hit if you
went down and not a house in sight. There was one road in and out, no traffic,
no kids cars pets or alligators. You could see from the rubber left on the
surface that it had been well used by the local motorcycle and sports car
crowd, and later in the day when I felt up to it I went to see if it was still
there. Florida doesn't have many good bike roads so a person has to make their
own fun. It was still there, and in use when I arrived. There were 2 bikes and
a Miata ripping around when I got there, and by the time I left almost an hour
later there were even more. I've missed this kind of riding since leaving the canyons
of California behind. Full throttle in the straightaway’s, trail braking into
the corners as I slid off the seat and leaned in to lower my center of gravity,
trying to pick the perfect line, entry point, turning point, apex, exit point,
then set up for the next corner to do it all over again. The only reason I left
was an impending storm, I got back to the trailer just before torrential rain
started.
There’s no jumping going on here today, a low, solid ceiling
with high winds took care of that, so for lack of anything else to do I’m going
to explain what AFF is (a couple of people have asked), and give you the best
travel tip you will ever get for driving in the United States.
AFF stands for Accelerated Free Fall. It’s a way of taking a
student right into free fall at 13,000 feet wearing and (hopefully) deploying
their own parachute on their very first jump. They start out with an Instructor
on each side holding onto their harness and coaching them with hand signals,
transition to one Instructor as they gain stability and control, finally
jumping unassisted with the Coach or Instructor along as an observer and safety
guy. It’s the best way to learn how to skydive, and in combination with tunnel
training has greatly increased the learning curve and safety of the sport.
And now, a gem, a polished diamond for anybody who has ever
had to run back and forth while buying gasoline in the US. Most pumps nowadays require
you to pay first before they will dispense gasoline. Back home that’s no
problem, just swipe a credit card and away you go. Not quite so simple here.
When you swipe your card at the pump it asks for your ZIP code so it can verify
the billing address against the card for security. Try punching a Canadian
postal code with numbers and letters in it into a numerical keypad, it simply doesn't work. Until now that meant you had to go into the gas station, wait in
line, pay with card or cash, go back outside and pump the gas, then go back
inside and wait in line again to get your change or a credit on your card for
the portion you prepaid but didn’t use. If I’m making tracks and covering some
distance in the car I might have to go through the whole rigmarole 5 times in a
day, and if I was having a throttle heavy day on the bike with no sure supply
of fuel further on down the road I might have to do that little dance every
hour or so.
No more! The very first place I stopped for fuel after
leaving home was on the New York State Turnpike. I got out of the car, swiped
my card, and when the screen prompted me to enter my ZIP code my heart sank as I
realized I was going to be spending the next 3 months running back and forth
several times a day when all I wanted was to gas and go. I had just turned
toward the booth when I heard a voice from behind me “Ah! Another Canadian!”
There was a guy wearing a Sunoco shirt standing there with a smile on his face.
“Can’t get past the Zip code?” he asked. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.
What’s your postal code”
“K1V 9T4”
“So the numbers in your postal code are 1, 9, and 4,
correct?” I nodded. “Then enter 1-9-4, add on two zero’s to fill it out to 5
digits, and….” The pump hesitated for a moment as signals bounced back and forth
between it and VISA, then “ Insert nozzle into fuel tank, push button to select
fuel type, squeeze lever.”
Ho-Lee Crap-oly! Hallelujah! I turned to thank the guy but
he was already gone, over talking to a confused looking man standing next to an
RV with Quebec plates. “Canadian? What’s your postal code sir?” It looks like
he was spending the day just walking around explaining to people how to buy
gas, and I shall be forever grateful to Sunoco for putting him there.
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