Considering the amount of bizarre and calamitous traffic one encounters navigating the overheated Florida roads is an experience rather like that of Phaeton driving his father's chariot through the beasts of the zodiac: an aged crone in a lopsided jalopy; a tattooed manaic on a mountainous motorbike; two greasy hick-ups in a rusting pick-up; a white-knuckled rabbi in a beat-up Volkswagen Rabbit; the invisible man in a Mercedes with tinted windows; the fat family Robinson in a creaking caravanette.
I'm not entirely certain if this is an average Saint Augustine commuter flow, or possibly a parade from the local Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum. No wonder the thunderbolts of Zeus are flashing across the suddenly stormy skies as I write this down.
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