Patience, patience

Perhaps it was fore- shadowing.

We were at least three- fourths of the way through the 18-Mile Stretch last week, the ribbon of road on Henry Flagler's old right-of-way connecting Key Largo to the mainland, when traffic stopped stock still about a mile shy of the last passing zone. And with nothing coming the opposite way, we figured the blockage was total.

Cars ahead of us and behind peeled off, heading back south (and dodging other U-turners) to take the alternate route via Card Sound Road. I figured the double-back, and then the alternate, would take an hour or more, and that being so close to Florida City, we might just as well wait.

And wait we did, as Robert wandered up the line to watch the rescue chopper from the trauma center in Miami swoop in to pick up the latest motorcyclist to wipe out in the mangroves. (They tend to get a little loony on the Stretch, and I'd feel more empathy for them if they didn't take so many non-motorcylists with them head-on as they attempt their suicide passes.)

So after about 45 minutes, we were on our way northbound again -- creeping carefully, watching out for southbounders who were still U-turning in their queue. It was a taste of things to come, I thought this morning as my dialup connection took 15 minutes to upload the helicopter picture, c r a w w w w l i n g along as random packets whizzed by along the Internets. . . .