Birthing Bubba, Beaucoup Beach Babes & Armadillos. And Naked Slip 'N Slide
Bubba was so stoked about Daytona.
I kinda shrugged. “I’ve got my bike; I’m happy virtually anywhere.” Flat white sandy beaches in touristy spring break towns aren’t really my thing.
Background info: Sparky became Bubba back in Tennessee. Late night giddiness had us rollin’ in the aisles of some gas station convenience store at all the red neck propaganda sold in the shop.
So we bought some.
I’m considering a subscription to the magazine “Redneck World”. Seriously. It’s hysterical.
Sparky’s key chain reads “Bubba”. Mine says “Bubba’s Wife: Don’t Touch”. Rosie (our RV) now claims title as “O’Fish’L Bubbamobile” and adorning the door handle is a “Team Bubba” key chain that we’ll be sending off to Captain (the boss).
These petty expenditures kept us laughing through tears ‘til our next necessary pit stop. In our first Florida gas station I was thoroughly nauseated by the excess of post cards that portrayed scantily clad sex symbols as Florida’s greatest attraction. One actually enjoyable one featured an old lady surrounded by hotties saying “They can’t keep away from me.”
Shocking. I had a similar experience.
I’m swearing off any sort of romance/make out sessions for the rest of my road trip.
Bubba might get jealous.
Speaking of, her boyfriend flew out from Phoenix and I finally got to meet my Hubby’s feller.
And spend ample time alone.
As usual, I didn’t get nearly enough work done with my alone time as initially intended. Some progress, but for the most part, I rode my bike and swam. Shame on me for not writing; props to me for riding over 200 miles in one week! Oh yeah – I think I’m a bad ass. And mountain biking through palm trees is the coolest fucking thing on the whole planet!!! I apologize for the profanity, but it’s really necessary to exemplify how absolutely amazing a sensation it is to be speeding through a densely packed tropical oasis. And I saw armadillos! Holy shit they actually exist outside of Texas and childrens stories!
And ya know what? The beach ain’t so bad either. Going 30 miles feels like a jaunt around the block – and watching the waves crash can mesmerize me for endless hours. (BTW – I’d like to point out that although the mileage may sound impressive, 2 miles in a mountainous forest feels like more of a workout than 30 some miles on a flat FL road or beach.)
Most of you don’t care to know this, but too bad: Yippee for my first sex on the beach experience! And no – the sand was not an issue. (blanket involved)
And this tubby girl rode around in a bikini all week – and instead of spurring a sea of nausea, it turned heads in a positive way! I mean, it’s a whole different story when beautiful beach boys think you’re hot as opposed to the typical hoots and hollers from drunk old men and the homeboys in the hood. Speaking of, I would no longer stand out in my Cincy ghettohood. I’ve got damned dark skin. (I actually just look dirty, aside from my tits which shine like head lights, but no one’s seeing ‘em anyway.)
Mountain biking through palm trees rocks! (Just had to reiterate.) I was pretty spoiled beginning my cycling days in Arizona; I thought nothing could hold a candle to red spire filled rock canyons, but the dense tropical forests….
And I swam in the pool almost every night. Swimming laps is one of the better physical sensations my body has ever experienced. Shame how rare I’m able to access a body of water to swim in.
Storms.
Thunderous dark puffs tumbling in over an agitated sea with bolts of lightning searing through the empty space between - such a sexy sight! Particularly while the wind is whipping sand and water against your skin and your toes dig deeper to keep balance and the sound of water incessantly thrashing - occasionally in sync with a boom from above - rattles your soul.
Yum.
Of course, it’s a slight less positive experience when you’re driving a huge RV down a narrow winding road over bridges connecting the archipelago along Florida’s northeastern coast.
We were by far the only tall thing in sight. Lightning is everywhere and keeping Rosie’s enormous body steady in a slight wind is already a challenge. We turn on the radio for the weather and hear the infamous “Beeeep! This is a message from the National Weather Broadcast System” or whatever it is. “This is an emergency. Hurricane warnings for Northeastern Florida. If you are out doors, please seek shelter inside. Trailers and Mobile Homes do not constitute shelter.”
Bubba Sparks and I exchange worried glances, burst out in laughter, and keep on truckin’.
There was a storm virtually all of the 11 days we were in Daytona.
The last day of our even at the Nascar track, we were shut down early thanks to the weather. Thousands of people huddled under the tents of the promotional Expo Village. After the worst of the lightning past, the Home Depot folks rolled out long strips of black plastic in the grass. Six guys were providing entertainment for the sheltered fanatics. Two girls joined them. Wanna guess who?
With me was one of our local staff girls, oddly enough, named Lindsey. Hmmm. I guess we’re just more fun. (Kidding, folks! J )
The crowd was shockingly excited as we approached the head of the make shift slide. “Woooh! Go Levi’s girls!” As we got into to running position a blur swept past me and slid down the plastic – completely butt naked. The masses went wild. Of course, much encouragement for the girls to get naked ensued. Upon the realization that it wasn’t going to happen, the naked guy asked if he could slide down inbetween us. Moments later the three us slid side by side down the plastic: us in Levi’s “univorm”, him naked.
Caught on video tape.
The very video tape that contained our event footage.
The same video tape that was FedEx ed to the boss two days later.
I think I still have my job.
I’m typing this outside in a park; bird shit landed next to me as I typed that last sentence. Hmm.
I kinda shrugged. “I’ve got my bike; I’m happy virtually anywhere.” Flat white sandy beaches in touristy spring break towns aren’t really my thing.
Background info: Sparky became Bubba back in Tennessee. Late night giddiness had us rollin’ in the aisles of some gas station convenience store at all the red neck propaganda sold in the shop.
So we bought some.
I’m considering a subscription to the magazine “Redneck World”. Seriously. It’s hysterical.
Sparky’s key chain reads “Bubba”. Mine says “Bubba’s Wife: Don’t Touch”. Rosie (our RV) now claims title as “O’Fish’L Bubbamobile” and adorning the door handle is a “Team Bubba” key chain that we’ll be sending off to Captain (the boss).
These petty expenditures kept us laughing through tears ‘til our next necessary pit stop. In our first Florida gas station I was thoroughly nauseated by the excess of post cards that portrayed scantily clad sex symbols as Florida’s greatest attraction. One actually enjoyable one featured an old lady surrounded by hotties saying “They can’t keep away from me.”
Shocking. I had a similar experience.
I’m swearing off any sort of romance/make out sessions for the rest of my road trip.
Bubba might get jealous.
Speaking of, her boyfriend flew out from Phoenix and I finally got to meet my Hubby’s feller.
And spend ample time alone.
As usual, I didn’t get nearly enough work done with my alone time as initially intended. Some progress, but for the most part, I rode my bike and swam. Shame on me for not writing; props to me for riding over 200 miles in one week! Oh yeah – I think I’m a bad ass. And mountain biking through palm trees is the coolest fucking thing on the whole planet!!! I apologize for the profanity, but it’s really necessary to exemplify how absolutely amazing a sensation it is to be speeding through a densely packed tropical oasis. And I saw armadillos! Holy shit they actually exist outside of Texas and childrens stories!
And ya know what? The beach ain’t so bad either. Going 30 miles feels like a jaunt around the block – and watching the waves crash can mesmerize me for endless hours. (BTW – I’d like to point out that although the mileage may sound impressive, 2 miles in a mountainous forest feels like more of a workout than 30 some miles on a flat FL road or beach.)
Most of you don’t care to know this, but too bad: Yippee for my first sex on the beach experience! And no – the sand was not an issue. (blanket involved)
And this tubby girl rode around in a bikini all week – and instead of spurring a sea of nausea, it turned heads in a positive way! I mean, it’s a whole different story when beautiful beach boys think you’re hot as opposed to the typical hoots and hollers from drunk old men and the homeboys in the hood. Speaking of, I would no longer stand out in my Cincy ghettohood. I’ve got damned dark skin. (I actually just look dirty, aside from my tits which shine like head lights, but no one’s seeing ‘em anyway.)
Mountain biking through palm trees rocks! (Just had to reiterate.) I was pretty spoiled beginning my cycling days in Arizona; I thought nothing could hold a candle to red spire filled rock canyons, but the dense tropical forests….
And I swam in the pool almost every night. Swimming laps is one of the better physical sensations my body has ever experienced. Shame how rare I’m able to access a body of water to swim in.
Storms.
Thunderous dark puffs tumbling in over an agitated sea with bolts of lightning searing through the empty space between - such a sexy sight! Particularly while the wind is whipping sand and water against your skin and your toes dig deeper to keep balance and the sound of water incessantly thrashing - occasionally in sync with a boom from above - rattles your soul.
Yum.
Of course, it’s a slight less positive experience when you’re driving a huge RV down a narrow winding road over bridges connecting the archipelago along Florida’s northeastern coast.
We were by far the only tall thing in sight. Lightning is everywhere and keeping Rosie’s enormous body steady in a slight wind is already a challenge. We turn on the radio for the weather and hear the infamous “Beeeep! This is a message from the National Weather Broadcast System” or whatever it is. “This is an emergency. Hurricane warnings for Northeastern Florida. If you are out doors, please seek shelter inside. Trailers and Mobile Homes do not constitute shelter.”
Bubba Sparks and I exchange worried glances, burst out in laughter, and keep on truckin’.
There was a storm virtually all of the 11 days we were in Daytona.
The last day of our even at the Nascar track, we were shut down early thanks to the weather. Thousands of people huddled under the tents of the promotional Expo Village. After the worst of the lightning past, the Home Depot folks rolled out long strips of black plastic in the grass. Six guys were providing entertainment for the sheltered fanatics. Two girls joined them. Wanna guess who?
With me was one of our local staff girls, oddly enough, named Lindsey. Hmmm. I guess we’re just more fun. (Kidding, folks! J )
The crowd was shockingly excited as we approached the head of the make shift slide. “Woooh! Go Levi’s girls!” As we got into to running position a blur swept past me and slid down the plastic – completely butt naked. The masses went wild. Of course, much encouragement for the girls to get naked ensued. Upon the realization that it wasn’t going to happen, the naked guy asked if he could slide down inbetween us. Moments later the three us slid side by side down the plastic: us in Levi’s “univorm”, him naked.
Caught on video tape.
The very video tape that contained our event footage.
The same video tape that was FedEx ed to the boss two days later.
I think I still have my job.
I’m typing this outside in a park; bird shit landed next to me as I typed that last sentence. Hmm.
posted by Lindsay at 10:45 PM
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