Glimpses of a Dying Sport

In Miami I also went to the Jai Alai fronton. I remembered the sport from an old Bud Spencer and Terence Hill movie set in the Miami of the seventies. During my first visit, there were no games going on. So I investigated the old building, looking at the court from the attached casino, and glancing through the locked glass doors at the run down lobby. I imagined the hustle and

Notice the computer
in the background.

bustle this was built for. All the while it was obvious that these days are long gone. Nowadays nobody comes here anymore, apart from a few rather compulsive-looking gamblers and a hand full of Hispanic old timers yelling at the players. The state of the building and equipment spoke rather eloquently about the lack of use and care. Both lobby and court are testaments to the heyday of the game. There sure never was an update since. This place is a relic of the seventies, when the sport was really popular. It feels like looking through a window back in time. In the empty ranks of the court, below the pink neon lights, you can almost see the crowds in cheap suits (there was a dress code), with cigars and a scotch in hand, tossing down the receipts of bets gone bad. The queues at the betting office. And the use of that grey box, which was a modern computer back then.



"Everybody greet the empty chairs!"

"This time I'll win!"

The next day I came back and watched a few games, making more pictures, betting on a game (I lost), and soaking in the atmosphere of the place. You inevitably wonder why people come here at all. And if you wonder why the place even still exists, the answer is simple: Florida law allows a gambling casino only to be operated if it also offers something like horse racing or Jai Alai. The casino is full. And the few Jai Alai spectators, too, seem less fans than gamblers. There even are people who don't bother with watching the game live anymore at all, following it instead on a screen in the lobby that is conveniently close to the betting booths. Only two of which are manned. The players also don't seem to put in too much effort, torn between a general realization of the pointlessness of their activity and momentary excitement over moves of great athleticism. It's a

Game time!

labor of love for them, I guess. But surprisingly, according to an article about the game, they earn pretty good wages. And not just comparably, for throwing a ball around with nobody watching, that is. Some of them make it into the six figures. Still, there are not too many around. At the world championships the sole American player was paired with a Cuban-American, since the organizers couldn't find another American player. Not too many around who pick up the game in the first place, apparently. And I think even a good wage cannot quite make up for the somber feeling of the situation. As I said, a labor of love...

Bienvenido a Miami!

I couldn't really get a feel for Miami in the days I've been here. What I have seen was first a rather rough area, then a pretty nice one, and, as seems typical for American cities, I went from the one to the other just by crossing one single street. Then I strolled through the typically shining-but-lifeless financial district, and the bustling and very touristy area of Miami Beach / South Beach. Lots going on there at night. And like any other big city, Miami also seems to have a big homelessness problem. In fact I walked through several of what almost could be called settlements of homeless people.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Probably the mold for London's Gherkin.

Dancing in Miami Beach.
Right by the sidewalk!

Oh, and one should definitely never let bored engineering students design vending machines. They're having way too much fun with it! I guess everybody has seen the one dispensing drinks with some kind of elevator bar going up and down, on which a movable little holder is installed that catches the thrown-out drink and delivers it to the opening in the machine, all accompanied by a dramatic robotic-sounding whirr. Well, here's an ice cream dispenser that was new to me. Inside is what looks like a drink cooler. Its lid is opened, then a vacuum cleaner-like tube comes down, sucks the ice cream and delivers it to the dropping point. I always expected it to drop it too early, like those machines for kids to grab toys. But it works!

Eureka!

Palm Beach

Some nice mansions here. Makes for good riding. I had expected the whole area to be a touristy spot like South Beach, but it is rather an elite hide away for really wealthy people. Probably the one or other drug baron among them.



 

 




 



 




 



 

To the Moon...Kennedy Space Center

Where rockets were built.

How exciting it must have been to be around when the Apollo missions were going on! Seeing the Saturn V being ferried out of the construction building. Boarding the Command Module on top of the rocket. Wow!

There's the 50s and 60s era, which fascinates me by itself, then the general enthusiasm about that new adventure space travel at the time, the image of the astronauts (which I am sure was quite strictly built up and steered by NASA, and the government in the background; just look at the perfect family situation of the average astronaut in the picture below), the

Yes, the Corvette of course can't
be missing.

space race with the Soviet Union, Kennedy's challenge in fresh memory, the insane technical apparatus put in place, at the same time all that done with 60s technology (the average mobile phone today probably has more computing power than the moon mission, I guess). I kept on imagining this situation when I was in the construction building. Because of the mood that this image conveyed to me, I found the building was the most exciting part of the whole visit. By the way, the astronaut and Corvette thing was due to a nearby dealer who leased Corvettes to astronauts for 1$ a year. They raced them on a road on the Space Center.

Zip here!

The lines you faintly see to the right of the launch tower in the picture above are zip lines for evacuation in case of an emergency. From the catching nets at their end you can choose between a vehicle that drives you away and a bunker right there. The merit of both of these measures is rather dubious, though, given that a fully fueled Saturn V had as much energy stored as a nuclear weapon. Everything within a five mile radius would have been toast in case of an explosion. The tower as you see above, by the way, is a Space Shuttle configuration. They are waiting for someone to buy or lease it, and then modify it as fits their needs.

And all that in my mobile phone...

The Saturn V Center had a rocket displayed that was put together from spare parts after the Apollo program had ended. What a massive machine!

Now look right into it! Three, two...

Tank. Another tank. Another...

And almost the whole thing was fuel! They were sitting literally on a skyscraper's height of explosive fuel. Nice ride! And all of that just to propel a tiny capsule into space.

The Command Module.

"Hey Buzz, can we make a stop at the
moon? I gotta pee so bad, I..."
- "Sure, Neil, sure..."

When preparing for the moon landing, the astronauts had to decouple the Command/Service Module from the Spacecraft-to-Lunar Module Adapter, turn around, and dock with the Lunar Module, pulling it out of the Adapter and entering it. Sounds like quite a maneuver to me! And that was just one step.

I was both fascinated and a bit sad, or better, melancholic. First, considering these extraordinary times, and second, thinking about being a little kid, when my mom brought me to the museum to see the space stuff, and it was all so exciting.

It think I owed this visit to the six year old I have been, that has been so fascinated with space exploration, astronauts, rockets, the solar system, and all that.

 

Protest and Rust

I joined a group that went to a demonstration against the death penalty. The scheduled execution was postponed, but since we were almost at the prison already when we got the news, we went anyway and showed some presence before we rode back. At the site, the prison had put up sign posts reading "Supporters" and "Opponents." As if it were a football game. Man... I spent the whole five hours of bus riding trading stories with an 82-year old former teacher. Great guy, I was a bit sad when leaving, actually.

Then I went to the Oyster Pub for dinner, where I spotted that beauty:

A friend of the owner approached me and we chatted a bit about it. For those, who are interested in it, here's how that rusty look is done:

1. Sand off the original paint.
2. Apply a protective grounding.
3. Coat it with some gray, metally stuff.
4. Put on the accelerator.
5. Cover that with some stuff that stops the rusting process and acts as a protective clear coating.

We then went inside the pub and had a chat with the owner. The waitress didn't really know what to do with me. I told her she should just put the food on the table. She had already served the drink to the empty table while I was watching the bike. Mean-looking bike. The motorcycle equivalent of a rat rod.

Just a Slice of Pizza

I was having dinner in one of these 1$-a-slice pizza joints as a black guy with his sleeping bag under his arm approached me. A handshake, and the next moment he was sitting at my table. He asked me if I was having a good time, and said I was looking sad. But I was just tired, and I told him so. He then told me he was living on the beach right now, and asked if I could give him some money. I couldn't, since I only had my credit card with me. He told me that yesterday the police put him in prison. He was just drinking a can of beer on the beach. He never was in prison before. He's from Alabama. He is 32 years old. All his talking was in this tired, enumerative style. He then turned his head to the side and mumbled something that as far as I could understand was something like “Please give me some money so I can get some[...].” He said it almost as if crying, as if in pain, and he had an expression on his face that was distorted, full of pain. It broke my heart.

I asked him if he wanted pizza. He said yes and signaled two slices, so I bought him pizza. I've never seen somebody eating like he did. With three massive bites, he filled his mouth with about half a slice of pizza, it almost fell out again. I asked him when he got something to eat for the last time. It must have been one or two days. Why didn't I ask him if he wanted some more? Sometimes I just don't think, like I have a blockade.

The thought that people just want something as simple as a slice of pizza, see others having it, asking them for one, but just not being able to get one...Just imagine how they must feel. Every day. It is so hard to bear for me. He had so much pain in his eyes. He thanked me, and walked away.

I went to the beach afterwards. About ten meters from me there was a pelican. He was floating there in the middle of the waves, flying up, diving down, then munching his fish while surfing on a breaking wave. Bad-ass pelican.

Florida!!! Raining...

These days I'm getting ever more adept at putting on the rain covers on my saddlebags...It said “Florida. Welcome to the Sunshine state!” That was pretty much when the rain started again. Then sun was setting, and the clouds were growing so dark and massive that it felt like riding into a hurricane. It was a great atmosphere. What a ride!

Cherohala Skyway

So good!

In the Smokies.

I spent some moments in the creaking old rocking chair in front of my room this morning, listening to the birds. Then I started my day. First order, getting some greasy, delicious food!

Riding the Cherohala Skyway started out nicely. Then there was a washout. At some point I pulled over


Looking manly.

at a resting place, since there already were little streams flowing over the road. We had one of those biker rain-meetings at the resting place. A little later a couple arrived from the other direction. We thought they didn't look that wet, hoping for good news, but when they stood up... They were soaked! The guy actually tilted his bag to get the water out. We all laughed at them.

Happy warrior.

It soon cleared up, though, and the rest was beautiful riding.

There he is. Got him!

The Smokies, smokin'.

After the Skyway there was more rain, which didn't end until I left the Smokies behind me. And every rain shower brings fog with it. Seems like there's a reason they're called that way.

When I approached Atlanta, the air seemed to smell more southern and oceany already. You know, since Florida is getting closer. What the mind can do...



At the starting line.

Typical view.

Riding the Dragon!

Enter the Dragon!

Beautiful, beautiful. Just beautiful! 318 turns on 11 miles, the Tail Of The Dragon (US 129) in the Great Smoky Mountains is motorcycle heaven. I rode it, turned around, went all the way back, then turned around and did it a third time, just for the sheer joy of it! I felt like a kid on a roller coaster, it was like snowboarding on the road. I thought to myself, just for this it was worth all the effort. And it was nice to see how my riding got ever more fluent, and I admit, faster. With every ride it got smoother. And now I know that when I go really low in a curve, the first thing that scratches the road is my heel, not the foot peg. I think that's good. It means there still is some reserve left when the scratching starts.

A colleague.

Tennessee dealership, complete
with dragon, concert stage and
smoker, caller "stinker."

Need a car? Grab one!

Earlier that day, I had some insurance communication going on, then sent my broken laptop to Asus for their Accidental Damage Program. I hope it is covered, since I get the feeling that both my and the other party's insurance will bail out of this. Then I went to a Harley store to get some parts installed. It was already 6pm when I actually got to the Dragon, then spent more than planned but amazing time there, so it was already dark when I continued through the Smokies to find a motel. That night ride in the mountains was really cool, beautiful, it had a feel of its own. But let

me tell you, riding a bike at night near a body of water gets you ridiculous amounts of bugs on your helmet's screen. It's like rain at times. And when you have a massive firefly smashing on the screen, it gets a little weird... At an unmanned gas station in the middle of nowhere I filled up (we need that direct-at-the-pump self-service credit card payment system in Germany!). Then I just sat there for quite a while, and listened to the night.

Later at around 10pm I found a motel still in the Smokies. The first situation I encountered was a beardy old prototype southerner chatting with the 80-year old lady at the reception / living-room-with-a-window. “No, I won't smoke in the room.” - “No joints either!” - “Oh, I would smoke a joint if I had a good one! Love you, honey.” Then I approached a table where two old fellers where sitting. Their self-described riding style: semi-aggressive, but not foolishly. I loved that! We exchanged stories and cracked jokes, chatted about our rides on the Dragon, and of course had done the same U-turn to get that picture with the road sign, they on the Skyway, I on the Dragon. They had done an Alpine tour of Germany, Austria and Switzerland a couple years ago, their life's dream. I told them I'm from there and now am following my dream here. And I got some more tips on great roads to ride. I had a blast of a time! They're really cool guys.

Tomorrow I'll do the Cherohala Skyway (US 143), aka "The 100 Million Dollar Road."

So you don't forget where you are!