Sarasota: My Time in the Circus City

When I hit the road in Jacksonville, I immediately noticed that my speedometer was not behaving as expected. It'd randomly and rapidly spike then fall back to zero, typically lagging seconds behind on acceleration before catching up when I hit the brakes. Restarting the bike didn't fix it, and the bike seemed to be riding fine so I ended up ignoring the issue for about 150 miles until I needed gas. Stepping off the bike, the root cause quickly became apparent. 

The speed sensor cord had been split and one of the three wires in it was frayed and completely separated. I was able to get by without the speedometer for 500+ miles by gaging speed from my tachometer (based on what gear I'm in and what RPMs the engine is at, I can get a pretty decent estimate of speed) and by navigating using GoogleMaps (they have a your speed box calculated with GPS). What I didn't realize until a few hundred miles later though, was that this wire also affected my odometer (don't worry, I went back and manually calculated distances to make sure the number posted on the blog is more or less accurate). I had to order this part from England (since the Miami Royal Enfield dealer did not respond to phone calls or emails), so I didn't end up replacing the speed sensor until I got to Lake Worth, FL last week. 

Which leads to another question you're probably asking: why did I go from Jacksonville on the east coast of Florida to Sarasota on the west coast just to work my way back to the east coast? 

Fair question - it had to do with the weather and when people were availale for visits. First, I got on back on the bike later in January than I originally planned due to weather; there were no extended good weather windows after New Years (eventually I just said screw it and rode in the cold). Second, my friend, Br. Phil, who I was visiting in Sarasota was only down in Florida for a week on his annual vacation, which meant I only had a place to stay there the week of 1/19. 

Br. Phil (not in his customary brown habit as he is on vacation) with John Ringling. Br. Phil grew up in Cleveland before living on both the East and the West Coast during his time as a logistics officer in the Navy. After his time in the Navy, he returned to Cleveland, working in logistics and later as a music minister for local churches before he made the decision to join the Capuchins (a branch of the Franciscan friars). During his Capuchin formation, he spent time in Pittsurgh, Southern California, and DC before returning to Cleveland. Currently, he is the pastor at Historic St. Peter's (my church in Cleveland - check it out if you're looking for a spiritual home in Cleveland), parochial vicar at St. Ignatius of Antioch, and the founder and spiritual leader of The Friar's Table. The Friar's Table is a non-profit restaurant/training kitchen in the Playhouse Square neighborhood of Cleveland that the Capuchins opened with funds donated by a wealthy benefactor. It employs people struggling to find employement elsewhere (former prisoners, refugees, the homeless, etc.) with the intent of providing an opportunity to enter/re-enter the workforce, receive a stable living wage, and gain resume-building training/experiences to become more marketable to other potential employers. Br. Phil was inspired to open the Friar's Table in part by the successes of Homeboy Industries in LA, On The Rise Bakery in Detroit, and EDWIN's in Cleveland. The Friar's Table just wrapped up a solid first year. If it continues to grow as hoped, Br. Phil wants to expand the operation to include other employment opportunities, affordable housing for the employees, and later affordable childcare services for the employees. When he's not at St. Pete's, St. Ignatius of Antioch, or The Friar's Table, Br. Phil enjoys going to WWE events (he claims he only goes for the people watching, but he's actually a big fan of the wrestling), staying up-to-date on urban development and city planning projects in Cleveland, and having a glass of red wine at Moe's (a local dive bar that served as the inspiration for Moe's Tavern in The Simpson's). 

Now you may be wondering how a Franciscan Friar who has taken a vow of poverty can afford a yearly vacation to Sarasota (and ritzy St. Armand's Key at that). The answer is that a generous friend let's him stay at their vacation home for the trip, and he's racked up so many rewards miles traveling for other obligations (like weddings) that the trip ends up being quite budget friendly. 

After arriving in Sarasota, my first stop was Owen's Fish Camp, a local favorite that another St. Pete's parishioner said was a must try. 

While the camp basket (mix of fried seafood) at Owen's was solid, the portions were a bit small; it seemed like they were trying to make up for a lack of fish with an oversized portion of fried okra. The dessert was where Owen's really shined though: Bourbon Pecan Pie and Fried lack Cherry Pie - both so good I forgot to take pictures. 

The next day, I did St. Armand's Key in style, getting a taste of how the top 1% live. It started with a comped lunch at the yacht club.

The view from the yacht club. After the freezing nights and rides through NC, SC, and GA, I could hardly believe this view was real, especially as I heard about the winter storm about to hit the rest of the country. Inna, our waitress, who is originally from Belarus and told us that they were currently getting even more extreme weather over there. Apparently there was so much snow in Belarus that people were sledding out the tenth story windows of high rise apartments, and that folks on lower floors could only exit the building through their tenth story neighbor's windows. 

In the afternoon, I met the property manager at the house, who asked me to take the Porsche for a spin around the block so that it'd be ready/fresh/in good working order when the home owner arrived in a few days. 

My whip for the evening. I meant to just take it out for a quick spin, but there were few turn around opportunities on the long skinny key and a lot of traffic on the way back, so my spin around the block ended up being closer to an hour (oops). As I was driving this fancy convertible sports car through the island paradise of St. Armand's and Longboat Keys at sunset, the asurdity of the situation dawned on me, and I literally laughed out loud (multiple times). Many people work their whole lives with the dream of being in the very seat I was in, yet somehow I managed to find myself there 9 months after quitting my promising job/foresaking the corporate ladder. In the middle of a dirtbag road trip where I've managed to fit my material possessions on a tiny motorcycle and spent many a night searching for the cheapest campground, I suddenly found myself living a movie, experiencing a level of wealth I'd never thought attainable. After years of striving, chasing, and saving, it was when I gave up control, security, and my plans that I stumled into a a life of riches. God, the universe, life, fate - has a funny, almost ironic way of doing that - giving us what we so craved but only after we've stopped seeking it. And as I look back on that moment, I'm quite sure I enjoyed the experience much more than I would have had the car and the island paradise been mine to keep. Something about the serendipity the experience, knowing that I did nothing to earn it and that my experience of it would be fleeting made me savor it more than I would have had I been the one to toil and sweat to save up enough to buy that car/house/life. That's something I'm eginning to learn on this motorcycle odyssey: there's such a freedom, a levity that comes from letting go - of possessions, control, goals, opportunities, experiences. You can't really enjoy what's right in front of you if you're holding too tightly to it, afraid to lose it. You can't open your hands to receive new things if you are unwilling to let go of what has been. You won't chance upon serendipity if you're too focused on your goals and plans.

 

Near the end of my island cruise in the Porsche, I stopped at Lido Beach to catch the dying sunset

Speaking of the generous hosts, they arrived midway through my stay in Sarasota. Karen, her daughter-in-law Katie, and her grandchildren JP and Josie flew in from Cleveland to escape the winter storm. 

Karen and her husband, Bob (who was unable to take time off from his job as a doctor to join us), first met Br. Phil through catholic circles in Cleveland. They got to know him much better after one of their sons joined the Capuchins. Karen spends much of her time in administrative roles for charitable organizations including Zele's Home and the Knights of Malta. She said it can be difficult to maintain two homes/bounce between locations throughout the year, so she is looking forward to moving to Florida full time when Bob retires. 

Katie met her husband, one of Karen and Bob’s other sons, on the swim team in college. She currently works in tech marketing (and was actually in Florida for a work conference), but is looking forward to leaving the workforce to focus on raising the kids when baby number 3 arrives this summer. I didn't get to know Josie (age 1) well as she isn't talking much yet, but I did spend a bunch of time hanging out with JP, who has to be among the tallest and smartest 4 year olds I've ever met. JP appears to have inherited his parents' aptitude for swimming as he's already diving for rings in the pool.  

Aside from a trip to the motorcycle shop to get a new front tire on the bike, I took it pretty easy the rest of my time in Sarasota; I checked out an art festival, went for long walks and runs to explore the island, and chilled on the beach. 

A secluded lagoon in the mangroves - one of the few places you can escape civilization in built up Sarasota. I saw giant fish and people kayaking through the mangrove tunnels here. 

Anyone know what type of flower this is?

Lido Beach has fine white sand, pretty shells, and clear waters, but very little waves. 

Some interesting pieces from the Art Festival on St Armand's Key

Almost forgot - the title of this post: from Br. Phil, I learned that Sarasota got its nickname from John Ringling, creator of the Ringling Bros. Circus, who brought the whole circus down to Sarasota for the winter every year. Ringling invested heavily in the arts scene in Sarasota and it remains a cultural hub to this day, largely thanks to Ringling's early patronage. From Br. Phil, I also learned that it's rumored the name Sarasota traces its roots all the way back to the Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto, or rather his daughter, Sara. Other sources claim he didn't even have a daughter. Wherever the name came from, Sarasota is definitely worth a stop if you find yourself on the west coast of Florida. 

Hope you're catching some rays wherever you are,

Beach Bum Kev