About eight years ago, Marg and I took a winter trip down to Florida. Landing in Tampa we learned that our rental car had been upgraded from the sensible compact sedan we’d ordered to a snow-white Ford Mustang convertible.
A day later, we took that car on a drive down the highway that connects the gulf coast keys from Santa Maria near Bradenton to St. Armand on Lido Key at Sarasota. It was a beautiful sunny day and, though not warm by local standards, plenty warm enough for the crazy Canadians to have the top down.
The road was so close to the beaches on these narrow sandbar islands that sand drifted across the pavement the way snow drifts across a Canadian highway on a bright January day. Sun. Sand. A cool car on a gulf coast road.
Just when I was thinking that this was nearly perfect, Jimmy Buffett came on the car radio singing Margaritaville, and it was perfect. Thanks for that Jimmy. Rest in peace.