Yowza time flies

Monday evening. No internet access for 3 days(never mind the hotel claims!) has put me so far behind in both work and blogs. Since I ate a lot of British beef over the years (average of 3 cows per day I think with 1/4 ton of Colman's English Mustard - now THAT is HOT mustard) I can't remember anything if I walk from a bedroom to a bathroom and any electronic device buzzes or rings. Now I have to recall Friday to Monday on the road and I am uncertain of my shoe size never mind all the people I met. OK, here goes...Friday:

I eventually got underway and popped round to Southeast Computer Systems posh offices (pic) to take some snaps and give some of the girls a ride. Jellolady (Gelady?) and Sonia were very good pillions and rode like pros even though Sonia's petite head had the helmet wobbling like one of those baseball wobbly dolls. I finally sorted my self out and clogged it to Fort Lauderdale. Nowt there worth a ha'penny so I snap the beach and leg it to Lake Okeechobee or some such daft name. No lake. Third biggest in America and apparently Miami drank it all last Thursday. No wonder with this flippin' sweaty weather. These mad duffers say it's cool! Yeah, like Hell has a climate suited to Inuits... I get to South Port intending to skirt the EAST side of this lake but the only sign is HWY80 East to Palm Beach. It doesn't TELL you it will run up the east side. Road signs in USA are just that - US. (English for useless). All I see is a HUGE grassy bank like an English reservoir. I end up in Clewiston at some manky bar asking where the heck the lake is and what the fire from hell is that I'm riding towards. The locals love it and explain that the TREES are drinking up the lake so they are BURNING the trees to save the water. Kyoto crumbles. They reckon I can snap a gator or two if I ride up the levee to see the ponds and quickly diminishing lake. I see a pathetic, lonely gator in the middle of some pond (pic) and assume he is depressed because he has a haircut worse than mine. I see a Honda CBR and stop. Danny and his pals gather round and are so friendly it hurts (he has a boy Xavier - cool name). Many explanations of the charity for kids and handshakes later I ride off. At the lights Danny catches up and escorts me 15 miles along the route...just to show sportrider solidarity. He gives me tips to avoid speeding that include slowing down. Clever boy Danny. I make a Holiday Inn Express in Sebring but the internet doesn't work. So I go to a supermarket for food/drink. Dean (read Kenny Rogers) spots the leathers and invites me to meet the Harley riding boys at Burger King on Sat. at 9am for a ride. Apparently this clan has an 84 year-old that rides every day. Camera ready I ride the "2" miles to Sebring Burper King. (Try 7.8 miles folks). I buy petrol when no one is there and ride the 12 miles return looking for the "other" Burper King. Every time I see a Harley rider I get excited... 25 miles later I give up and head to my serious destination... CAMP BOGGY CREEK! The first visit in over 4,000 miles of the charity!