Tampa Bay, day 2.

After deciding that we had to have a rental car, I rented a Mitsubishi Lanzer OZ Rally Edition from Thrifty:



It's red w/a spoiler, and looks for all the world like an Evolution 8, but with none of the engine, suspension, chassis, and 4wd tweaks.

Still, it's been an unexpected pleasure, with a smooth ride, good steering, and great brakes. However, it's an automatic, and the engine + tranny combo is just not up to moving the car; I find myself in 3rd gear under all circumstances except freeway, and 2nd in many situations on the street.

I wouldn't mind having an Evo 8, though, given the goodness of the chassis, even in this neutered form.

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So, with my new (rented) wheels, I headed-out to explore St. Petersburg a bit. St. Pete, Clearwater, and various other municipalities all occupy this teardrop-shaped peninusla that juts into the Gulf of Mexico. The streets + avenues follow a very well-designed grid (are you listening, Lexington?!), and it's easy to get around, though the area lacks many expressways, so it's a ponderous trip from Gulf to Bay.

Urban sprawl & "Generica" abound here: Houses are poorly made, and it's a strip-mall hell. Nothing has much of a sense of permanence, save the industry north of town. I'm beginning to understand Doug's statement, "Next Hurricane that comes through dere is gonna wipe St. Petersburg right off the map." No way this town would survive a category 5 or strong category 4. Amazingly, new hotel construction is everywhere on the gulf-facing barrier islands, 10-20 story highrises, condos, etc. How do these people get insurance?

After my sojourn around town, I came back to enjoy the sundeck and read some more of Airport by Aurther Hailey. Many have probably seen the movie with Burt Lancaster, but the book is still awesome. Basically, it's the story of an international airort in the late 1960's, and as such provides not only a picture of air travel's logistics and failings, but also a snapshot of gender roles during that time. Hailey's stewardesses are the demure yet self-confident sexpots we've all read about from that time, and the pilots are the rake-hells that all men would like to be. Through it all, threads of humanity entwine: The broken marriage, the workaholic attraction, the guilt of responsibility for so many lives, the battle against nature.

The novel breaks no new ground, but in context, it's pleasingly dense, enthralling, and informative. Hailey was the Tom Clancy of his era.

Later, we went out with one of Whitney's friends from Certegy named Layla and her two kids, Tonya (13), and Ubi (nee "Ayubi"?), 11. We had a delightful dinner of burgers and beer at Ale House off Martin Luther King St.

* * *

So, today, I'm heading for the Salvidor Dali museum in downtown St. Pete, and then to the beach and boardwalk to see what's to come.

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