We made for a Farmers' Market/Flea Market which advertised itself as a good source of the desired product, but came away disappointed. I also turned down some freebies offered in the Flea Market section.
Next we went to the manufacturer's store, Davidson's, down in Daytona Beach. It was a very fine store, well-stocked with what we wanted. A sign on the door bore the message, "Bike Week Hours: 9:00 AM - Noon" which we read at 12:30 PM. I'm not clear on that concept but we are still without our supply.
Our tour of Atlantic Avenue in Daytona Beach was ... um ... interesting. More bikers than a quiet-loving person would care to see in his lifetime. We paused for a short excursion on Daytona Beach which is almost identical to New Smyrna Beach where we're staying, but New Smyrna Beach has fewer and smaller buildings along it.
A couple of seagulls on guard duty.
What they were guarding against.
Traffic was slow on the Avenue on the return trip and, for some reason which escapes me, bikers rev their motors frequently while waiting for traffic to move again. It's as though they're afraid the bikes will stall. In slow traffic this contributes the fragrance of exhaust fumes to the ceaseless, throaty, throbbing roar of motorcycle engines. Very many of these bike enthusiasts are older, gray-haired men. In fact I've never seen so many gray ponytails fluttering in exhaust fumes in all my life. If these fellows spent a lifetime in the uproar produced by their machines it explains why I saw some examples of sign-language communication too.
The above is not Atlantic Avenue. I wouldn't dare photograph bikers when they are swarming around me like bees. The above photo was taken on International Speedway Blvd. closer to the I-95.
And that's Thursday's story.
And that's Thursday's story.
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