It was1985, a regular day, a day the gods slept through, a day New Yorkers were facing some of the coldest temperatures ever recorded in the 20th Century as an arctic air mass moved through the air.
Winter, less than a month away. For Henry’s Cuban wife Lucia, Norman Rockwell painted images of snowmen, snowball fights, cozy fireplaces, hot chocolate, and sleigh rides were discomforting. Henry tried to encourage her to embrace winter like an old uncle, but her reply was always the same,
darling, if you love me, take me to Miami, so we can escape the awful winter!
Sure, why not? A lot of New Yorkers do winters in Florida, I can fax stories to HEADBANGER Magazine— Key West is a cool place, OK, It’ll work! Lucia jumps in place, hugging him, saying,
gracias, darling, we'll drive and take the Chihuahuas!
The phone rings, it’s his editor Dave Spleen,
Henry my man, last week's story, By Blood a King, and in Heart a Clown was a non-starter, readers thought it was dirty, you’re no Henry Miller, stick to what you know.
OK, Dave, anyway, Lucia and I are driving to Florida tomorrow, how bout I fax stories to you on the fly?
Fine, BUT! I’m not gonna bankroll the trip! As usual, you'll be paid per story! Gotta go, gotta deadline to meet.
Dave Spleen’s reputation with journalist in the city was on par with Al Goldstein, publisher of Screw Magazine. Other than Screw, HEADBANGER was the only surviving underground paper from the 60s. The rag made revenue from advertising and want ads. Nobody knew if Dave had money or not, but his wife Goldy wore more gold than a Bronx pimp.
Henry's Uncle Victor Lucowski, who had owned a coat hanger factory in Pennsylvania up to his death, left him a trust. What he made from writing was party money spent on booze and dope.
Lucia walks in his office and he says,
Let’s pack darling, order pizza, we'll go to bed early and get up early so we'll miss the morning traffic.
They pack summer clothes, shorts, tank tops, rubber slippers, gym shoes, floppy straw hats, a few sexy thong bikinis for Lucia. As well as plenty of party goods kept in an iced down Coleman cool box — beer, sandwiches, and an ounce of killer weed.
The couple dressed down and wouldn’t be caught dead in a South Miami disco or club, preferring nature and real-life bonafide shit.
At 3 AM little Mia is licking Henry’s face and wakes him up, in turn, he wakes up Lucia kissing her and licking her face, she says,
stop it, Mia!
They shower and dress, putting on shorts, gym shoes and sweatshirts, leaving and locking the door to their apartment from the lobby. Each one pulls a suit-case on wheels and the leashed Chis follow, walking themselves, dragging their chains behind them. The foursome takes the elevator to the basement where Henry’s car is parked.
He has a 1975 Chevy Malibu Wagon V8 with sports suspension. The rig was 10 years old with only 30,000 miles on it. He rarely drove it in the city, using it for summer trips on the Northeast coast to Vermont and New Hampshire mostly.
He puts the backseat of the station wagon down and locks it, which leaves a large space which he covers with a straw mat, loading the suitcases, and strapping the cool box to the back of the front seat.
So, the saga begins, by 4 AM they're on the road where there's little traffic except for a battalion of garbage trucks and street cleaners who are heading back to the city garage. He takes Union Turnpike to Meadow Lake Road, driving 495 east spanning the Hudson River to 95 which runs along the coast to Florida. On 95 south Lucia lights a joint, as they smoke the couple is overwhelmed by feelings of glee. Lucia puts a cassette in the tape player saying,
darling, do you think the maguina will eat the tape? He says,
odds are, yes!
She turns the stereo up, there’s a bass woofer under the front passenger seat that causes it to vibrate, Lucia says,
oh my god bebe, the musica vibraciones are making my culo shiver!
Santana’s album, Freedom is playing,
after driving 4 hours, bypassing Philadelphia, they pull off the turnpike at Wilmington, Pennsylvania, following Main Street until they reach Hazel’s Restaurant, which has been there since the early 50s, a place time has passed by.
They park near Hazel’s, rolling the windows down a few inches, leaving the Chis in the station wagon. Inside the couple sits at the counter, ordering from the menu, the waitress, a chubby older lady comes to the table, Henry orders,
we’re as hungry as a couple of nanny goats, how bout, steak and eggs, rye toast, hash browns, waffles and a couple of hamburgers to go. The waitress nods her and says,
got ya, if you need anything whinny!
The hamburgers will be breakfast for the Chi’s, Che and Mia.
The order is cooked on a flat metal grill dextrously by a thin old man in whites wearing a paper chef's cap who looks like he had learned his trade in the joint.
In no time they are served, as they eat Lucia says,
this is real comida Americana darling, I love it.
Back in the station wagon, she feeds Che and Mia hamburgers as Henry drives to 95 south, once on the turnpike he says,
baby reach in the cool box and pull out some beer!
It’s was 11 AM and the couple is drinking already. Beer like soda pop for them, booze and dope buoyed them up on high, without it, life was an annoyance. Lucia puts a cassette in the tape player, The Rolling Stones, Sticky Fingers, lighting a joint as Dead Flowers simmers through the bass woofer, wobbling her culo, making her horny.
In 4 hours they exit at Perry Hall, Maryland, driving a short distance to Gunpowder State Park, stopping at the entrance and buying tickets as the park ranger reminds them to keep their dogs leashed and to bag pooh-pooh. Henry who didn't care for cops nods his head, then driving through a wooded area to a grass and sand beach on the Middle River, parking on the grass.
There are a few scattered families barbecuing but the area was mostly empty because summer was over. He takes the straw mat from the station wagon, laying it on a patch of grass. The couple removes their shoes and sweatshirts, walking a few steps to the Middle River and sitting in the shallow area as they watch the Chis paddle about. The streaming river water is greenish clear, cool but not tepid. He says,
if I pee in the Middle River, it will flow throw the Chesapeake Bay into the Atlantic Ocean, Lucia raises her eyebrows and says,
dios mio bebe, are you loco? Get real, take me into the bushes and fuck me! My culo is dripping wet from the vibraciones of the bass woofer.
After 20 minutes the couple and the Chis get out of the water, walking wet to the straw mat, drying off and taking a nap, when they wake in an hour he says,
we can make it to Raleigh, North Carolina in 4 hours if we drive non stop.
Reaching Raleigh in the next few hours translated into 15 hours on the road that day. Henry hot-footing it for no reason, the only deadline in front of him was next week’s story for HEADBANGER Magazine. He was in a race with himself to nowhere, this having everything to do being a man. Lucia rarely knew what time it was and didn’t care because the foremost thing on her mind was sex.
Back on 95 south Henry is speeding, Lucia lights a joint and opens a couple of beers for the road, asking Henry,
bebe, what’s the hurry, you tense?
I don’t know,
As he drives she turns towards him, bending as she pulls his shorts down below his knees, grabbing the base of his cock, squeezing it as she sucks like nobody’s business, tea balling him until he cums and moans deeply, saying,
you must be horny darling, she answers,
No problema bebe, the vibraciones from the bass woofer have shaken my culo so much that I’ve had to change my panties 3 times.
They smoke refer and put a Ravi Shankar cassette into the tap deck. As he drives a far-away feeling blankets the couple, a soul-felt feeling cascading from the dark side of the moon.
In no time they exit 95, driving to Raleigh. Henry parks at a phone booth, going inside, letting his fingers do the walking, calling a pet-friendly motel, the Como Inn, getting directions and saying,
OK, babe, we're good to go!
The Como Inn is classic motel style with a neon sign and an ice machine out front, looking like the Bates Motel minus the morbidity. Henry parks and goes inside the office, a friendly older man wearing bifocals, a flannel shirt and suspenders says,
what can I do you out of? Henry saying,
I need a room for 2 and we have a couple of Chihuahuas that are housebroken, the desk clerk says,
that’ll be 30 dollars, oh, here’s a copy of last week's Raleigh Downtowner if the pups need to relieve themselves.
He drives the short distance to room 108 and parks. They roll the suitcases as Che and Mia follow, opening the door and going inside. The room is basic, with a tile floor, a boon for a doggy friendly motel.
The couple shower and pass out naked in the double bed without drying off, loaded to boot, sleeping until noon the following day. After checking out Henry drives to a McDonald’s drive-through, ordering hash browns, Egg McMuffins, a malt, and 2 coffees.
It’s an 11-hour drive to Miami on 95 south, Lucia rolls a joint as big as a cigar and says,
like it bebe? It’s Cubano style!
you bored doll? You musta used a pack of Zig Zags to roll that monster!
He picks a cassette from the console, putting it in the tap deck, B. B. King, Why I Sing the Blues, the blithe sound baths them in glowing happiness. Life was never better for the fun-loving couple who lived for the day.
After driving a couple of hours, Lucia says,
darling I have the munchies, let’s get deseirta!
He turns off 95 at Florence, South Carolina, a rural town that is known as the intersection of Highways 95 and 26, driving down Main Street and parking in front of a local diner called Red's.
Inside, they sit in a booth, noticing a rebel flag on the wall above the counter, an ominous sign. There is a group of farmers in overalls, all with sweat stains on their Mac shirts and deeply wrinkled necks, sitting at the counter eyeballing Lucile. A waitress walks to the couple’s booth and Henry orders,
we’d like some peach pie, some coconut cake and a bowl of ice cream, the waitress says in quivering voice,
mister, we don’t serve coons, he answers,
my wife isn’t black, she’s Cuban,
then, the cook who’s scraping the grill behind the counter turns and looks at the couple, pointing his spatula at them, saying,
you’re outta luck bud, that pinko bitch of yours ain’t no different than a coon. Henry whispers to Lucia,
go to the car, get in and lock the doors, then asking the doe-eyed waitress,
how bout a peach pie to go?
the thick-necked grill cook answers for the young waitress who is caught in the fold, saying,
look here jew boy, if you want pie around these parts go to negra town!
Henry rips a dollar bill into small pieces, tossing the pieces on the table and walking out, saying nothing.
Back on 95 south Lucia says,
that was freaky bebe, let’s have a beer! She reaches into the Coleman cool box behind the front seat and pulls out 2 cold ones, then putting a cassette in the tape deck, Dave Mason’s Alone Together, Henry saying,
good choice doll, one of the best albums of the 70s!
In 4 hours they reach Jacksonville, Florida, Henry speeding most the way like he had a get out of jail card for free. At Jacksonville, they exit 95 to visit Blanding Wildlife Management State Park, stopping on the way in Middleburg to buy a dozen donuts and 2 large coffees.
Inside the park, they drive a short distance to an area with some picnic tables which is a pine plantation that supports Red Cockadad woodpeckers. Sitting at a picnic table the couple delight in the sounds and serenity of nature as they eat donuts washed down with hot coffee.
Then out of nowhere, dropped from the heavens maybe, a baby woodpecker lands on their table, its a male with a red crown and black speckled body. Lucia feeds the baby donut crumbs. As they get in the station wagon the Chis follow and the baby woodpecker flies in, landing on Lucia’s shoulder and perching there, she says,
darling, let's take the baby with us,
He agrees as he drives south, the baby woodpecker, who Lucia names Pedro, perches on Che's back as the Chis play, riding him like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Henry and Lucia laugh so hard that he has to pull the car off the road because their stomach were cramping.
In 4 hours they reach Palm Beach, driving to a phone booth he once again looks through the yellow pages for a dog and bird-friendly motel, finding El Patio Motel on Highway 1 across from the Pacific Ocean. El Patio Motel was built in the early 50s and hasn’t changed, still white with green asphalt shingles.
It’s 8 PM, Henry walks into the front office, a single building with a green neon sign in the window that reads,
FRONT OFFICE
the front desk clerk who looks like someone’s grandma says,
welcome to El Patio Motel, we’re pet-friendly, but no gators or mountain lions! Henry laughs and says,
we have 2 Chihuahuas and a baby woodpecker, the old gal laughs saying,
How about your pecker, is it healthy? Still laughing he answers,
I’m a happily married man, the desk clerk laughs as she gives him an old-style motel key attached to a green kite-shaped keychain, room 7.
The couple walks to the room pulling their suitcases and the Chis follow, the baby woodpecker Pedro is perched on Che’s back, enjoying the ride.
The following morning they check out at 8 AM, driving Highway 1 south to Key West where they plan to rent a small house and stay for the winter, the same as thousands of New York snowbirds who flock to Florida to escape winter do. Henry pulls into a Popeyes drive through, saying,
let’s see? We’ll have some birdseed, a couple of doggy biscuits and a bowl of water, just kidding! OK, 2 loaded chicken wraps, a shrimp Po’ Boy, 2 banana puddings, 2 coffees and a gallon of lemonade. Lucia saying,
that’s a lot of food darling, he answers,
we have a big family to feed with now that we have little Pedro, even though he eats like a bird!
He pays and pulls out of Popeyes, they eat as he drives down the highway, Lucia feeding the Chis and little Pedro who raises his head and chirps after each bite of banana pudding, which was his favorite.
Henry drives nonstop to Key West, making it in an hour. As usual, pushing the limits for no reason, getting there by sundown and parking the station wagon near Sloppy Joe’s bar. The couple sits at the bar, Henry pages through the Key West Citizen want ads looking for a house to rent, then going to a phone booth.
He connects with a high school kid who is renting out his parent's house. It’s a single-story, furnished 2 bedroom house with a fenced-in yard lined with palm trees. Henry figuring the trees will be nice for Pedro to peck on as he matures. The kid rides a Vespa scooter to meet the couple at Sloppy Joe’s, Henry buys him a drink, the kid says sadly,
my parents died last month, I'm shattered but I need to move on with my life, rent out their house and go back to college.
They follow the kid on his Vespa to the house and go inside. The place has a homey feeling because it’s filled with furniture and nicknacks the kid’s parents had collected over a lifetime.
He wants 1300 a month, pricy but average for houses in Key West in the 80s. Henry gives him 2600 dollars, first and last months rent, the kids says,
thanks, Henry, just deposit 1300 dollars monthly at the Wells Fargo Bank in my name. Oh, I’ll leave the Vespa for you guys to get around on.
The kid writes his name and phone number on a piece of paper, then putting on a backpack, walking out the door and disappearing into the night.
The couple brings their suitcases inside, the Chis follow as Pedro rides Che in. Then, Henry and Lucia go the porch and sit on a hanging wooden swing chair, Henry saying,
wow, what a blessing! What a sweet kid, we’ll take good care of the place and make sure he gets his rent on time, Lucia then saying,
little Pedro is our lucky charm!
