Up at 0615 and curbside hailing a cab by 0645 to take me to the airport. I am starting to realize that all Philly cabbies use the full on full off (FoFo) gas pedal method. It is always a great way to start the day - being car sick! Naturally when I select Credit on the touch screen in the backseat after the 15 minute fare, the driver asks if I would prefer to pay cash, I saw that coming and had 2 bucks on me just for that.

Reluctantly I give it to him, despite the fact that he didn't do anything to deserve it, and he takes it without even looking at me or saying a word. It was great final experience, a I bid you adieu from the mediocre city of Philadelphia, PA.

Perhaps I have an elevated expectation of service. In my job I give what I consider to be exemplary service and as such I expect that in the retail world, and that kind of passion, especially in menial jobs is pretty hard to come by. I really need to become more tolerant, but sadly, I see myself worsening as I mature.

The airport is not as intimidating as I thought, although the cabbie did insist on dropping me off at Terminal E when my boarding pass clearly said D. I had to walk back to the bag drop point. Delta Airlines seems to made up entirely of, in my opinion based on my observations, "more than a little plump African American women who yell at you". Now they do put the qualifier Sir or Ma'am at the end of every tirade so you ostensibly think they are being polite and respectful, but you can see it is done through the gritted teeth of someone on the verge of cracking like a dry October twig. I am going to call them 'Delta Yellers'! Maybe it is one word, Deltayeller. Better yet an acronym; DY's!

A couple of DYers direct all of us, go here, go there, etc but eventually I get my luggage checked in and head to security. US TSA standards are very odd, they are different everywhere. Here in Philly I don't have to remove jewelry, nor my belt, nor my sunglasses from my head, but you have to remove foot wear. I guess memories of the 'Shoe Bomber' live on. A DYer yells at me to 'enter the scanner, sir!' Everyone goes through a wrap around scanner, it takes 3 seconds. Nice.

I arrive at my departure gate about 45 minutes early, a little sooner than I like, but safe. Many food kiosks are open, some are just opening and the Philly Pretzel shop catches my eye. Just before boarding starts, I always wait until the last possible moment to board, I order two ginormous pretzels covered in cheese. By the time I am finishing them, the boarding line-up is gone and I get on the plane. I can already feel the waves of processed flour and cheese sleepy time wash over me.

I size up my seat mates for inflight iPhone operation lesson requests and feel pretty comfortable I won't get them. Cursory salutations to both complete, NC ear buds in, ocean sounds set on repeat, I struggle to remain awake during the safety demo, but am fast asleep by push back and when I awaken some time later at a shuddering jar I have that momentary just woke up confusion. I think the jar was from take-off, but it is the landing at Atlanta. That is awesome, it is like traveling by going through a worm-hole, or time machine!

Even more awesome is that the flight arrived on time, a real rarity and that my connecting flight departs out of the same terminal, even more rare. I have about an hour so I take care of bidness and seek out my connecting flight sleep inducement solution, finally settling on a ginormous peanut butter beverage made by the US equivalent of a Booster Juice. It has PB, bananas and whey. Sounds whey good! Also it is ginormous, like everything in 'merica!

A couple of DYer ladies yell at us through the PA system for awhile, but we board just as soft fuzzy peanut buttery angora blanket lands on me, and while I don't sleep the entire way I wake up about 10 minutes before landing. Sadly the side effects of the PB beverage is that my back teeth are swimming. Just as I am about to go for the facilities we start our descent so I am forced to wait it out.

We land and everything is going well until the pilot announces we are early so the skyway guy was caught unaware, and there is some trouble placing the walkway. A short 5 minute delay for the other passengers is an interminable wait for me, but eventually the line starts moving, we exit and the plane and nature takes her course.

I get my bag in record time and get into the first cab in line, oh boy, here we go again. The first thing you notice is the heat is stifling, apparently just over 100 degrees. The cab is a mini van with cloth seats, the driver is a smoker and stale smoke permeates the cloth interior, and her AC doesn't work. This would be OK for the 10 minute drive but she is continually playing with the AC, without her eyes on the road and *****ing about it.

We end up running a very late yellow and the oncoming left hand turner incurs her rage, right up to a tirade of F-bombs as we both try to clear the intersection at the same time. She weakly apologizes and I ask her to both slow and calm down. It gets awkward and we drive in silence the rest of the way, what a blessing!

We get to Daytona Beach Triumph a short time later and circle the building looking for the entrance despite the fact that I am telling her how to get there, DBT is located on an awkward 3 point intersection. She just ignores my directions until we are about to pass the driveway for a 3rd time. I shout out, turn left now, to prevent another lap. I am very frustrated by US cabbies and I show my angst by not tipping, and telling her why in no uncertain terms.

She departs with a few choice words directed my way including some F-Bombs! Hopefully that will be the last taxi I need for awhile, I will handle my own transportation requirements from now on.

I go into the service department and see my new best friend Hewell who has put on a new rear tire for me. If you may recall the steel belts were showing through on the one I rode in on. His mechanic also noticed my rear brake pads were almost at the squealers so he put a fresh set in. It was a good time to do that as the wheel was already off.

I start putting on my riding gear in the relative cool of the shop, much to the amusement of Hewell and his crew. They simply can't believe someone would put on that much black leather in the 100 degree heat, I try to stay brave but I am literally gushing sweat.



I depart amongst much fanfare and wishes of safe travels from Hewell and the crew at DAB Triumph, thank you!

I remember the route back out to the Interstate, it was only 1 turn really and I am back up to speed headed southbound in no time. I have driven in hot and humid before, but this time it is extreme! Want to share an interactive experience? try this at home:

• set your home thermostat to 100 degrees farenheit
• put on a couple of sweaters, or a leather jacket that weighs 20 lbs
• put on some long johns, unless you have some chaps from your cowboy phase
• put an unbalanced load in the dryer and engage the spin cycle
• wear leather gauntlet gloves and a full face helmet
• open the visor slightly and have someone point a hair dryer at the opening
• sit on the dryer perfectly still for an hour

Luckily my drive was just that, about an hour, 66 miles south to Cocoa Beach, where I had a hotel reservation for a few days. I did have to wipe the sweat from my brow a few times with a gloved finger to prevent it from running down into my eyes. Also unzipping my leather jacket a few inches provided some much needed ventilation.

I got in about 1600h after a Planes, Trains & Automobiles kind of day. (Cab, Planes & Motorcycles actually!)The Mo'tel has a very nice pool so I picked up some tasty adult aesculapian beverages and retired to a chaise lounge chair until the sun set.

Cocoa Beach has a strange restaurant phenomenon; there are more than a few restaurants that advertise a Thai-Japanese-BBQ menu, an odd combination if you ask me.I visited one within walking distance and enjoyed a meal of Toro & Tuna Sashimi, accompanied by a couple big cans of Sapporo. As I was perusing the menu mid meal I noticed they have frog legs so I will have to return for that rare delicacy that I enjoy so much but can never find. I returned to my room, a little wobbly and retired early in preparation of my big day on Sunday.