After leaving Fort Pickens, we decided to drive into town, grab lunch, and plan dinner. I picked what looked like a little sports bar and grill with a patio. It was a beautiful day, and the prospect of sitting outside was enticing. I'm only telling you about lunch because of Eric. Whenever we travel, Eric likes to banter with strangers. He pretends a stranger is a long awaited friend. One of his favorite shticks is to make a passing comment as though we are a gay couple. This makes me laugh, so of course I play along, nothing over the top, you have to make it believable. At lunch Eric poured it on so thick that it elicited the response from the waitress, "It's alright, I have gay friends." If she would have ventured a look at me instead of staring intently at her pad, she would have seen me barely keeping the laughter bated.
After lunch we ventured on the other side of the bridge to secure provisions for the evening. We decided to take camping to a whole 'nother level. Below you can see we had some choice cut ribeye, corn, and vegetable kebabs. Along with this unquestionable great meal, I procured a bottle of 12 year old Glenfiddich, an affable single malt scotch with a smooth and mellow finish. From previous posts, it is evident that we don't normally travel and eat in this capacity, but sometimes it is nice to treat oneself in a luxurious manner; albeit, with some strain on decorum.
That night we slept well, bellies full and senses dulled. Waking up was easy, as it was another beautiful day for riding. We had the necessary java jolt, packed, and on our way. We stopped at Fort Morgan, and had a nice history lesson. I won't bore you with more historical information, since there are some frank similarities between Fort Morgan and Fort Pickens.
Before we could get out of Alabama, the clouds were overcast, and the ride was not beautiful, but we were riding and that is that matters.
Until I ramble on again. . .
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