Canaveral Groves and Cocoa Beach March 10, 2015

In a previous post I mentioned that it took us a while to get going in the morning. What took us so long to get to Daytona on Monday was our search for a self service car wash to clean the grime off the motorcycles that accumulated on the trip down from New Hampshire. Most were drive through, and that wouldn't do of course. It took a while but we finally found one. The bikes were now spic and span.

Today is Tuesday and Andy wants to take a ride to Cocoa where he and his brothers own a piece of land left to them by their aunt. No one has really seen it. A few have "been to the area" but that is not the same as "walking the property." So off we go to find 4 acres in a subdivision called Canaveral Groves. I set the GPS to the road listed on the tax bill. No number of course but we have a diagram. The property had been acquired back in the 60's and since then an expressway has been built that cuts through a corner so landmarks we believed will be easy to identify.

Canaveral Groves isn't any nearer to Disney than Daytona is, but hey, we are on motorcycles and it was 5 degrees when we left NH, so we're as happy as two peas in a pod in this fabulous weather. Eventually, we find our way and discover  (why am I surprised) the road is not paved. Andy takes me down plenty of dirt roads back home so I'm thinking I'll be OK. Oh wait, this isn't like the gravel roads back home. This stuff is like trying to ride on shifting beach sand. I'm not too happy as the dust is really kicking up and the way isn't easy going on a tour bike. Yet Andy is ever the optimist when it comes to riding back roads. He always believes things will improve so we never turn around.

The homes that we do see don't look like a neighborhood I'd want to live in. Piles or crap in the yards, no landscaping whatsoever, a few chained dogs barking and straining at the end of their chains. The way becomes more difficult, and the road dips and rises like the waves on the ocean. It becomes more damp the closer we get.

We encounter our first big puddle, which Andy rides through and I follow. "Damn" I'm thinking and also sure I'm saying into the microphone of the headset, "I just washed this bike!" I stop at the next rise, but Andy continues through the next. It's deeper, and I'm glad I didn't go. "Why are you stopping?" he asks. Duh, I like my bike clean, but I don't say that, I just watch. At the third puddle, Andy boldly presses on.  At this "puddle" he begins to vanish beneath the surface and I watch mouth agape. It plays like a slow motion film in my mind. First his feet, then his shins, then the water rises to his saddle. The bike lists to the left and my stomach does a flip flop. Andy opens the throttle wide  at this point and his rear tire finds purchase. I hear the pipes gurgling underwater! Miraculously the bike leaps forward and out he pops on the other side.

The deceiving "puddles".

I sit there for what seems an eternity, as does he. Finally I say into the mic, "and now what are you going to do?" He is covered with muck clear up his backside.  Saddle bags, fenders and tire rims all full of grime. We both dismount and do a bit of bushwhacking at the edges of this puddle and find him a way out.

Andy finds a way out.

Our day then proceeded on as if nothing has happened. We ride to the Kennedy Space Center as if we were going to take a tour, only to realize that the clean pants in his saddle bag of course are not. So we instead make our way to Cocoa Beach, where he wades into the surf and scrubs the muck of his pants. We enjoy some ice cream and hightail it back to the Kingdom where the little lion cubs are thrilled to see us.

(PS: We never did see the property. At only 3 tenths of mile away, the next puddles were more like ponds with no way around.)