LIFE AT 10 MPH
“It ain’t much, but it ought to keep you dry,” said the bare-chested man in denim overalls as he pulled a giant tarp off a pontoon boat. I took one look at the boat, sitting on a trailer, three feet off the ground and seemingly snake-free, and knew I’d have a good night’s sleep there.
This was day five of my bicycle trip across Florida, with the preceding nights involving sleeping behind an outbuilding in an industrial park, inside an old horse barn beside a tiki bar, on an internet friend’s apartment floor, and in a little patch of woods behind a McDonald’s in a town I dubbed “The armpit of Florida.”
Only one of those nights brought
