USA, Florida

Witches ride brooms into the night. The Lone Ranger rode Silver through the old west. Egyptian Pharaohs rode their Chariots through the Nile delta.

In the Ocean world of Florida I found my trusted steed.

The irresistible force of habit led me to the Hertz office in the vain attempt to rent a car. A sea-creature of women greeted me. A solid exoskeleton rose from her scalp where hair might once have grown. Instead of eyebrows, she sported great stripes of red makeup that drew across her forehead in an intimidating scowl. (My studies have since indicated that this is a form of deceptive camouflage to fool would-be predators into thinking that these creatures are aggressive and more dangerous then they really are.)

“My last name is Rudolph. Is my car ready?”
“You rented a non-smoking midsize?”
“Yes”
“That type of car is not native to these waters and we’re all out. Perhaps you would care for a local model?”

The idea that Florida would have an indigenous car had never occurred to me. However, I have found it helpful to blend in and remain inconspicuous when on the road. “Sure” I said.

“Good. We’ll give you a Lincoln Town Car. Executive model.”
This was the end of my conversation with the menacing yet thoughtful crustacean woman. I was never able to tell her of my gratitude. Her kind offer of an indigenous car could not have been more rewarding.

At first I mistook the enormous creature to be a domesticated version of Moby Dick. Measuring no less than twenty feet long, its belly could have held seven men, and its trunk another two. Despite this tremendous girth my white whale cut thought the assault waves with the grace of a ballerina and the agility of a humming bird.

Together, Moby and I slowly explored the coral subdivisions and strip malls that play such an essential role in the local ecology. These delicate structures are everywhere, providing shelter and food for all manner of species. Beside us, other mysterious animals floated by: Cadillacs, Buicks, Low Riders, and Humvies. My Town Car fit right in and we passed unnoticed through this exotic wilderness. Even with his great size and docile manner, Moby was more than willing to fly. With a gentle touch of the gas Moby could leap to life, thrusting me back into the leather bench seat and burying the speedometer. Not even the Bose speaker system could hide the noise of Moby’s engine as it assaulted the laws of physics. Strapped into the saddle, it was impossible to not to love the grace and power of my new friend, companion, and steed.