Old buzzards

Pam wanted to go over to the beach at Don Pedro State Park today, so we loaded our lunch in the dinghy and headed out.  The beach at Don Pedro, is pretty much as it's always been.  Old Florida.

 And it's not too crowded.

Just a bunch of old buzzards on the beach today.

This red tide has really been a mullet fest for them. 

We were on this beach four years ago, and Pam picked up about a hundert sharks teeth.  Today she only found a dozen.

While at the beach, I was able to lay down on a towel and take a little nap.  The sounds of the waves lapping on the beach were quite soothing, and reminded me of the night I slept out on a balcony overlooking John's Pass. (A little NOrth of St Pete Beach)  I was in the boat business then, and had to deliver a boat to Naples, Florida.  My neighbor Jake had rented a condo at John's Pass and suggested I stop and spend the night in his condo.  I was tired from driving when I got there, and his place was full of children and old women.  So I took my blanket and pillow out on the balcony and had a very peaceful night.  With the waves lapping in on the shore there, I thought I could hear Leon Russell singing "Back to the Island."

Jake was also involved in another eventful night's sleep.  My pal Dawg and I had to go to NOrth Carolina to pick up a custom built boat trailer, and it just happened to be the weekend of the NASCAR race in Bristol, TN.  Bristol is not too far out of the way to NOrth Carolina.  Growing up in Indianapolis, I always believed the hype that the Indy 500 was "the greatest spectacle in racing."  I was misinformed.  I got tickets to the Bristol race at the last minute, and Dawg and I extended our trip in order to stop and watch the race.  If you've ever been to a NASCAR race (back in the day) you know that motel rooms were very hard to find, and were extremely expensive.  As luck would have it, Jake and his brother Bill were going to that same race, and had a motel room in Bristol that weekend.  Dawg and I talked Jake into letting us sleep on the floor in his motel room.  The only place for me to lay down was under the table.  Jake set a bottle of Captain Morgan's rum on the table just above my head.  During the night, I saw the Captain jump off the label, and dance around on the table singing an altered version of a Santana song.  "You better change your evil ways...........Tommy."

But I digress.  Old buzzards like me nap on the beach, and my mind starts off in an unknown direction, and just keeps going.