Leaving Home

The flight out was no more than an average flight, and flying to Orlando is nothing new to me. Typically my ground trip once on land in Florida finds me heading east to the Daytona area and usually for a motorcycle event. But not this time. This trip was for a totally different reason, and because it would possibly be a lifestyle changing event for me, I was accompanied by the woman who fairly recently jumped head first into my life and seems to have her head a little more securely attached to her shoulders than I do.

Patti --as I affectionately call her because well, that's her name-- and I have spoken often and at length about the advantages of living in Florida. Our conversation at thirty seven thousand feet included a re-visit of the list of pluses for moving to a warmer climate. Patti was on a mission on this trip however. Her mission, which was disguised as a visit to see her mom, was to show me around the "Villages" which are in the central Florida area. A location that she is more than familiar with, and felt that I would be attracted to.

Our first day in the Villages left me speechless. Actually, my first two hours there left me at a loss for words. Understand that I have traveled to a lot of nice places around this nation, and I have seen many areas that appeal to me. What I haven't seen before of such great magnitude though, is an area devoted solely to the older generation. A community of what some might refer to as retired folk. A retirement community - but not really.

Okay, so I guess if I try and mask what the Villages may appear to be to the younger generation by simply attaching a different title, will if nothing else, make me feel better. But my feelings are really what this is all about anyway. I'm not moving to a retirement community - "God's waiting room" - as my friend Matt so cleverly refers to Florida as. The Villages appear to me to be so much more than that.

What my eyes observed was a fun and exciting playground for kids my age and older. A runner's and Harley rider's paradise. A place on this earth where winter jackets, extra blankets, high heating bills and scraping ice from windshields doesn't really exist. A playground that includes more recreation centers, pools, golf courses and restaurants than a man could ever hope for, all placed neatly in the center of the Sunshine State. Nightly live entertainment in two different town squares and ninety nine cent beer had nothing to do with my excitement for this place that I want to call home.

Upon our return trip to the much colder north east, and after several more conversations with Patti regarding a possible move, the decision was made. My belongings and I will be making a road trip. As stated in my last report, my Harleys will love my decision. This will be the first winter in my fifty odd years on this planet, that I won't be putting outdoor running, motorcycle riding and lawn furniture on ice for five months (pun intended).

Retirement community? Perhaps --but I'll breathe life into my new neighborhood. Get ready Florida, here I come!

~Safe Riding~

-The Chief