My daughter finished school at noon. I had packed the car that morning, so we all piled in and headed to Florida. As I have said before, I hate the drive to Florida. I do enjoy taking bikes and my fishing stuff, so the tradeoff is worthwhile. We entered I-75 with a zillion other SUVs with bikes on the back and forged ahead.

As usual, the orange barrels were out in force, and we experienced significant traffic delays. It’s just peachy when traffic slows to walking pace for 20 minutes and, when the reason for the delay is reached, you find a quarter mile of lane closure where absolutely no work is being done. I probably could have wasted a whole day just trying to figure out who to complain to about this sort of bureaucratic silliness. Time would be better spent trimming my toenails.

Besides the inevitable delays, the other maddening thing about long-distance trips is the behavior of other drivers. If I can get away with driving 75 or 80, I’ll do it. I’m diligent, however, about keeping my distance from the car ahead of me. Occasionally some pinhead would pass on the right and then insert himself between me and the next car. What joy. After the third time, my wife suggested that honking was not helping the situation, so I just gave up.

After playing NASCAR for a few hours, I concluded that the whole experience was analogous to working in the emergency department. Inserting between two cars at high speed without warning was analogous to doctors sending their patients to the ED without calling to discuss it. Just like the pinheaded driver, this practice is potentially dangerous, inconsiderate, and unprofessional. I have given up honking about that, too.

We had a great time on Lido Key, which is near Sarasota. One of my former residents, Jan Brown, and I went fishing near Longboat Key on a pristine cloudless afternoon. We caught a bunch of redfish, and most measured too big to keep. Hauling in a 30-inch fish with a rod and reel is a memorable experience. The two redfish we were allowed to keep made a tasty meal.

The week passed in a wink, and we returned to I-75 with the rest of humanity. The state of Georgia seemed to elongate as we traveled. By the time we reached the Tennessee border, I felt as if we had just traversed California. We had hoped to drive straight through but settled on staying over in a scenic little town north of Knoxville.