The chorus of rubber pounding cover is replaced by the hum of a single car travel a narrow rural road. State Road 19 takes me west and than north through Citrus, Levy, Dixie, and Taylor Counties. Hugging the coast a pastoral landscape glows in the last moments of daylight as the first stars in the sky accounance night. Here, in the rural plaza of the State, the barbs on the wire fences outnumber the cars, people, and cows combined. It is a novelty zone for me. A time to ease back to cardinal miles an hour, open the windows and let the cool salt air replace the smell of nicotine, fast food, and exhaust.
I am forced west again by the long slow curve in the State called the big bend. Here the panhandle begins. My headlights charter me through the towns of Apalachicola, Wakulla, and Ochlochunee, a reminder of a native people that once called the area home. Next comes the slash pine plantations and piece mill towns created by the lumber barons that once ruled the land. A few more miles I hit Panama metropolis. With its wayside trash, cocoa butter scent, and brunt flesh tourist Panama City defines the term tourist trap. The new towns of Rosemary Beach, Water colourise and Seaside are next. Playing upon the American memory of subaltern towns and main streets these new developments are replacing the old parsimony of...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
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