Just outside of Perry, FL, there is a convenience store and campground by the name of Rocky's. The place is advertised 20km in every direction outside of Perry, and is marked by large, unmissable signs along the highway. It's written on the gas station roof, in large red letters, and on the storefront, and on the large LED display on the shoulder of the road between the shade of the pumps and the sun of the road.
Truckers weave in and out of the parking lot, and the store is full of hand-painted signs for bathrooms, pizza, subs, and other aisle labellings. There is a full kitchen in the back, and the five staff-members, all female, wearing the same black uniform and nametag, joke around behind the counter while checking out truck drivers two at a time in two cashiers. There's golden fried chicken wings, platters for home-baked pizza, and baskets full of large cinnamon rolls, cookies, and other baked goods from nearby bakeries.
This is Rocky's campground and convenience store, and it is the last one on highway 98 for 20 miles. At least that's what's written on a large billboard right outside.
20 miles west, hidden amongst the trees, and the occasional sign for a quarry or a mine, flanked by conservation areas, and a stone's throw away from the Aucilla river, sits Jr's Aucilla River Store. The sun-beaten name is written on the large square white roof covering the pumps, but not reaching the small hut that is the store. On Google maps, all images of this store are from cyclists passing through. Trucks don't stop, and cars must prefer a place with cell reception or WiFi of any kind.
Small, bleached paintings of raccoons add visual interest to the entrance to the long hut containing the wares of Jr's Aucilla River Store. Inside, half of the shelves are empty, and those that aren't hold visibly aged products. On the plain walls, there are taxidermized deer, turkeys, and other hunting trophies. The store is buzzing with the sound of live crickets in boxes to be used as bait. In a messy bun, and a dark blue shirt, a dirty-blonde woman stands at the counter to greet the few incomers. She's under 30, but her face is wrinkled and tired. She has an unmistakeable accent and way of speech that is hard to place, but that would be frowned upon in the city.
To her, I'm just another cyclist coming in for a break. This time, I just need water and sunscreen. But today is my rest day, so after cooling off in their backroom freezer for a few minutes, I stayed for a while to chat, to tell stories, and to hear stories in return.
She's from Perry, and works at this gas station part-time. She has four kids, one of whom is 17 months old, two of which are step-children. On busier days, trucks call in for her to make sandwiches or burgers for them on a grill on the side of the counter. Today, no one is coming. Her shift ends at 4:00pm, but there's nothing to do until then. No internet. No reception. No TV around. Only the lazy dog, sleeping behind the country, the sound of cricket chirps, and occasionally, one of her kids coming to work with her.
On the counter sit bright red "Make Fishing Great Again" hats, and she tells me that this is a Trump county, but that she didn't vote. She couldn't vote. She's a felon. She tells me that today her boss isn't around because he's at a county meeting where they will decide whether or not to reduce the number of fish allowances. If it goes through, then this store will see even less business. She thinks that it's already been decided, and that by now it's just a formality.
The store had no sunscreen. The woman offered me a small sample-packet of sunscreen that they got from the sunscreen company, and let me leave with a tomato from the fridge that I saw earlier. Always with a smile. I spent no money at this gas station, as I had already restocked on some food at Rocky's.
So off I went, pedalling at a lazy pace on my day off, carrying three GPS devices, and finished my day at a motel near Florida State University, where the students were being picked up by their parents at the end of the semester.
But let me end with something good. As of recently, felons can vote in Florida.
Look, today was my rest day. That meant waking up late, biking slowly, eating slowly, and taking pictures slowly. I was on the road at around 9:00am, and finished at 5:00pm, and only rode 100km. I really took my time.
Yes, it's true. The little orange cube that my dad gave me the morning of my flight wasn't just some inert piece of plastic trash that they picked up from the bottom of our camping supplies. It turns out to be a fully-functional brand new clip-on money-sinking watch! No, really, it has a clock on it! To see more of what it does, go to https://tinyurl.com/wherethefuckisassaf
I bought a year-long subscription, so I might just keep this thing on me for a year.