Wet Air - August '08
The
day was all mapped out in my mind. It was going to be a warm, sunny, Central Florida afternoon. My buddy, Denny and I would go for a putt along some nicely shaded roads, and I'd write an article about it: "A
Cool Ride on a Hot Day."
Right. A sunny afternoon. In Florida. In
July. What was I thinking? The day arrived and from my place in Rockledge, I watched the clouds hover all morning. Not good. But then, around eleven o'clock, the overcast ceiling broke up and I could actually see big
patches of blue sky. Coolness. I figured the rain would probably hold off until the usual late afternoon thunderstorms, so I grabbed the bike keys and hit the road. Within just a few miles, the signs were not good. There were dark clouds
moving in from the west and not far away was the tell-tale, cloud-to-ground grayness that just had to be rain. The wet air seemed to be at least a few miles away, so I figured I could make it to Denny's house before I got soaked.
Naturally, that was when the skies opened up and the road seemed more suitable for Noah's Ark than for a motorcycle. (Note
to self: take another serious look at getting a windshield. Rain drops at fifty MPH are like stabs of big liquid needles.)
So, I pulled over, got out the rain gear and rode to the nearest shelter, which turned out to be Jabbers, on Grissom Road
between Port St. John and Cocoa. Once inside, I peeled off the rain gear and watched as the water came down in buckets, if not fifty-gallon drums. It seemed to be a good time to sit tight, maybe grab a bite to eat and call my buddy. Even though there were animals lining up in pairs down the street, Denny was still considering our Sunday
afternoon ride, until he looked at the Weather Channel. A solid wall of green and red junk was coming out of the west on the local radar. He wasn't going to leave the house. So much for the ride. I hung up the phone and
picked up a lunch menu. After a brief consultation with the bartender, I decided a Cassaburger, with bacon, cheese and some seasoned fries sounded like a good idea. A surprising number of people were braving the rain and
the place was quickly filling up. Still, my food arrived, cooked to order, in just a few minutes. I was hungry, the food looked good, so I dug in. The half-pound burger was big, tasty and juicy, but not
sloppy. The fries were crisp, though for seasoned fries, I expected a little more flavor. Still, that didn't stop me from eating every last one of them. After I'd cleaned my plate (or basket as the case may be) I grunted, in a
full-to-the brim sort of way and looked over to see a dessert menu. Dang. They had peanut butter pie, cobbler and a host of other tasty sounding items, but there was no way. I
knew without trying that I wouldn't be able to tie my boots and breathe at the same time. There was no room for dessert. Next time, maybe.
It just so happened that JoAnn Abernathy, one of the owners was in the bar and I chatted with her for a bit about the place. (Greg, her husband and co-owner, came in later.) They like to consider themselves a neighborhood establishm When I asked JoAnn what makes their place unique, one of the regulars piped up with, "the gorgeous bartenders."
Brown noser. JoAnn and I agreed with him though and she continued to ponder other unique attributes of the place. She told me they make several items from scratch, including the clam chowder, served on Fridays.
The meatloaf is also homemade as are the Sloppy Joes, which were on special that day. (When I asked about weekly events, I learned they do Texas Hold 'Em on Monday and Thursday nights and Karaoke on Fridays.
They also do a Corn Toss. I'm not exactly sure what that is, but whatever it is, they do it on Sundays at one o'clock.) What's it like inside? Very nice. It's a relatively new building and they've decked it out in a sports theme.
There are lots of banners and pennants on the walls, and you can't help but notice almost twenty television sets around the place, including two outside, on the very nice, screened smoker's porch.
Not long after I finished eating and chatting with the owners, my son, Alex showed up and we hung out for over an hour, waiting
for the rain to let up. We had a couple beers, shot the breeze and got caught up; it was pretty easy, since he'd just been over
to the house the day before. The rain finally stopped and we were ready to go, so I called for the tab. A little over twenty bucks, including tip. Not bad, considering I picked up Alex's drinks too. (It's a dad thing.)
Outside, the sun was out, the roads were wet and steamy, but no longer flooded. It ended up being a pretty nice day after all, despite the weather. The folks at Jabbers were nice, the food was good and I found out my rain gear still works.
On the way home, I waved to the animals on the ark. They were stuck in the mud in the ditch along SR 520.
ent; family oriented yet still biker friendly. They've hosted several
poker runs and I know from experience that there are often quite a few bikes in the parking lot.
