I went with my wife Maria, cousin Barbara and her husband Robert. We left Highlands Reserve for a trip up the west coast and to see what we could find.

Firstly we went to Denny’s on the 192 for a hearty breakfast and to pick up a copy of “Roomsaver.com”. This is a web site but is also published so that people like me who have only a very limited idea how to use a computer can get the same deal. In fact I personally think that its got even more hotels in the book than on-line. So after eggs, very thin bacon, links (sausages to you and me) and a pile of pancakes 3 feet high (smothered in syrup and cream) we set of on our trip of discovery. I had to readjust the car seat so that I could get in behind the steering wheel.

We travelled north on highway 27 to Clermont, then headed west on the 476, then the 40 to highway 19.

Luckily I had in-car navigation and elected not to go on any toll roads. No we didn’t decide this route because we are stingy, but hopefully to see rural Florida.

On the way we stopped off at a country market, where you could buy anything from a pig to a magnum pistol to a tractor. I think the magnum was to put the pig down.

We drove past Homosassa heading north to Crystal River. We came across a road called West Fort Island Trail (highway 44) so heading west we drove for what seemed like miles and miles. The drive was worth it, we discovered a beautiful beach with hardly anybody on it. So after a dip in the sea and an ice-cream we returned back to highway 19.

Then onto Homosassa. As we approached I thought that we had better depart as it was full of Hells Angels and not the place for 4 rather boring adults, who’s idea of a wild night out was going to a restaurant or a bar for a quite drink.

Well we booked into a hotel (one of only two) and went to a bar on the river front.

On approaching the bar, rock and roll music was playing at such a loud volume we could hear it from ¼ mile away, but in need of some refreshment we pressed on.

On arrival we were greeted with lots of old people in leather gear dancing for all they were worth, and boy could some of them dance. One guy was in a wheel-chair and he was moving around the floor with his sweetheart far better than I could with all of my appendages intact. The music was played by a rock band and boy could they play.

At the bar it was useless to attempt to ask for what you wanted to drink, it was a system of point and hold your fingers up to indicate how many you wanted.

We then went to the furthest table from the band to enjoy our beer on this hot and humid October afternoon.

During a lull in the music some of the dancers returned to the table we were sitting at and invited us to share the table with them.

And so it was that we met Billy-Joe and Claudette. Billy-Joe was 57 from Missouri and Claudette was 61 from Jacksonville, Florida. Both were dressed in the same fashion as the other 98 OAP, Jeans, leather jackets or waistcoats and bandannas.

Gee you must be from Australia with that accent they declared.

No! No! I shouted, were from England and then explained that we were from Southend in Essex, no we didn’t know the Queen and not all English people shopped at Harrods.

Robert then decided that he had enough of the well known beer that started with “B” and sounded Czechoslovakian. He returned from the bar with a Floridian beer called Landshark. We both agreed that it tasted like something that had been strained through a cat. Oh well onto the Margaritas.

The music had started up again so we went into shouting and hand signal mode. Now I must admit that my hearing is not as good as it used to be (so Maria keeps informing me) so I couldn’t understand all that Billy-Joe was on about, so I nodded when I thought that I should and smiled in the (hopefully) right places. Billy-Joe then shot off and returned with more of that “B” beer, enough for the other 98 bikers, but no this was for the 6 of us. Thank goodness that we didn’t have to drive. He and Claudette then returned to the dance floor.

What a sight, all these Hells Angels cavorting around the dance floor, as good as any twenty year old. Some of them I swear would be down the post office tomorrow to draw there pensions.

Now the main reason for coming to Homosassa was to see the manatees. But we were informed that it was to early in the year for them to be this far up-river. Come back late November to March we were told. How disappointed I was. I had to sit in the beautiful Florida weather drinking alcohol, listening to rock and roll music and getting to know the natives.

During a quite period I asked Bill-Joe why all the Harley Davison owners were so old. He explained that the bikes were so expensive, youngster’s could not afford them. The average cost was $30000, far beyond the reach of the less well to do. So for the last 6 years as I’ve driven around Florida thinking to-myself “look at that silly old twit trying to be young” I now know why only the older folks ride HD’s.

Anyway back to the trip, Homosassa is a beautiful place to explore, but stay on the coast side of Highway 19. There are old colonial homesteads and a disused sugar mill. The mill and plantation was owned by David Levy Yulee, a member of the House of Representatives. The steam-driven mill operated from 1851 to 1864 and served as a supplier of sugar products for southern troops during the Civil War.

We had dinner in the only restaurant in the immediate area the Yardarm, and were we lucky, had we come a day later we would not have been able to eat here, as it shut down that night for a 2 week refurbishment. The food was ok, but I have eaten better.

The next day it was south on US19 to Dunedin and St. Petersburg’s Treasure Island, but that’s the next installment.