“Where’s Waldo?”

Well…If you’re talking about the popular book series…I won’t be able to tell you.

Admitting to ne’er doing well with Waldo or those darn “magic eye” picture thingy’s that were so popular some years ago is embarrassing. And, while I’ve always been quite certain I do not see things as others do, I did not expect it to be blatantly evident that my eyesight was so terribly flawed as to render me unable to find Waldo or see the images imbedded in those stupid squiggles, wiggles, colored lines and dots.

That, howsumever, is NOT what this particular travelblog is about.

Waldo in this case is an unexpected road side stop in the accidentally discovered town of Waldo, FL.

Drive east on highway 24 from Gainesville headed towards it’s nexus with highway 301 and you will drive right into the small heart of downtown of Waldo complete with an old fashioned sign painted on a building welcoming you in.

Of note is the old caboose commemorative to the history of the town headed by two brass markers…the most interesting of which heralds the theft of then Confederate President Jefferson Davis’ baggage and some government papers hidden in a nearby house under the care of the railway agent. It does not mention the fate of said railway agent.

Adjacent is a becoming little park in honor of the Veterans of the city which looks to be well used by the residents of the town. There’s something comforting in knowing such a small village cared enough to raise the funds to build and dedicate this little piece of land to its hometown heroes. Small town patriotism at its best. Good for you, Waldo.

There is the requisite old building City Hall and other aging remnants from its heyday. Down a quiet side street are the Waldo First United Methodist Church and the remains of what may have been a previous church building behind the fire department. Gia’normous Oak tree lined avenues showcase graceful, faded, old-style southern 2-story wood-sided homesteads….not quite mansions, but more than humble single story dwellings.
The most modern convenience on this section of the route is the 301 – 24 Coffee Shop whose sign reads “You know you want some”…except it was closed…so even if we did…we couldn’t.

Some internet research turned up 2 disparate items…one, that it is an Auto Club designated Speed Trap (signs and all) and, second, that it is regionally famous for its 50 acre Farmers & Flea Market advertised to “attract crowds of 35,000 per weekend. I’d never heard of it before…but, other than a favored weekend haunt at the fair grounds in my daughter-in-law’s hometown of Raleigh, NC, I’m not a Flea Market maven. So, what do I know? Google it for yourself…http://www.waldosfleamarket.com/

Back on track…I would rather hope the second was truer than the first.

All in all there’s not a lot to be said about Waldo…except that we found it…and it was not an unpleasant detour along the journey north to SC. Next time someone asks you…”Where’s Waldo?” Tell them it’s in mid-state Florida. http://www.waldo-fl.com/

(All photos property of Outlaw and the Handyman)

A Blog Comes to Life

These changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.
(Thank you, Jimmy Buffet)

In the nearly 5 years since the Handyman and I found each other, we have traveled the interstates and side roads from our home in Northwestern SC north to Long Beach Island, New Jersey and south as far as Sarasota, Florida. The eastern coast we have cruised from Long Beach Island to Daytona Beach, FL with a loverly, but blistering week-long side trek on the Outer Banks of NC in 100+ degree August weather...think October next time. We have yet to make it further west than Hot-Lanta, GA…but, we’re workin’ onnit.

Our respective children tease us that we are the only folks they know who can make a 4 ½ hour trip to Raleigh, NC last ALL day. We have proven them right multiple times.

Both of our monikers come from the anonymity of an on-line community we inhabit for involuntarily unspoused souls as ourselves…mine from a Scottish friend fond of Clint Eastwood movies and his simply because he is.

It was serendipity that brought is together and the synchronicity of our urge to roam that keeps us laughing along some of the forgotten byways of this continent called North America.

Interstate travel serves the purpose of getting oneself from point A to point B in typically the least amount of time. One is lucky when the scenery helps pass the time. It is, however, the off-roads, the not quite divided highways and pothole riddled side roads that provide us the most accidental adventures of quaint mom’n’pop motels, not quite prime-time eateries and often jaw-dropping scenery. (and while not exactly a kayaking format, because it is dear to our middle aged hearts, special spots will be mentioned along with the usual travelogue bits.)

This blog came to life mainly as the brain child of Himself’s oldest daughter after listening to the tales from yet another of our journeys across Florida. The girl seems to think we have interesting things to say about the people, places and potholes we have visited. I hope we prove her right on that one as well.

And, that, in not quite a nutshell is what this blog is all about…unlike the Hokey Pokey, which is quitely likely what it is truly all about.

Comments are welcome, but commercialism is not. (Unless promoted by us, of course.)