There were times when the ‘island mentality’ got on our nerves. Don’t get me wrong, in Europe, I can understand it – there are cafes to smoke and cigarettes to relax in, but after 2 months in The Keys, we were ready for a little bit more…

Drive.

And drive we did – one last look at Gene Hackman’s island. The hospital that Tim became the spokesperson for. Pizza shacks and hardware stores that only carried ‘them UBS cords’ for computers. Don’t get me wrong, it was fun – living on the beach, fresh seafood we grilled 10 feet away from the fridge where the local beer nudged the condiments they were grouped with. Tan in February and our favorite local bar with it’s popular game of ‘try to throw the circle on the nail’ – we’d never listened to any Jimmy Buffet album in our lives, but could quote you all his lyrics.

It was time to go.

Months ago, we had been given a coupon for a free night’s stay in an RV park 5 hours north of Miami and when your driver doesn’t have a good foot to his name, a mid-way point sounded good – but when traffic is backed up 3 miles and a helicopter hovers above looking forever stole the DVD player sat next to the 3 Police cars, you suddenly have to ask yourself why coupons were given out.

As it turned out, it was one of the nicest parks anyone had ever been to (and keep in mind, Tim and Robin have been doing this for a few years). In true Florida fashion, there were a few lakes, and a few more signs to not let your dog run free, as the gators possessed a little bit more get-up-and-go then the patrons who we parked next to – one of which came over to us and asked if we’d want to have a few afternoon drinks at theirs. Now, while it might not come as a shock that there are actually more millionaires driving these rigs than sitting next to you in the first-class cabin on your next flight, it should be mentioned that rarely do we find ourselves partying with this demographic. But something about this lady’s invite was different. She was one of those ‘backintheday’-ers; tall, blonde, confident.

We sat and were introduced to her husband. He had the accent of a supporting-character in a Tennesse Williams play, every word stepping on the heels of the next – with no apparent hurry. The more drinks he had, the more he seemed to know the words to the old time country music station providing the background. At some point one of us – I’m not sure who – stated the obvious: this man liked his country music.

‘Oh, he’s produced about half of these people’ said his wife.

He had.

In fact, we were sitting next to a legend. Oak Ridge Boys. Jerry Lee Lewis. The man who took produced Seger’s ‘Like A Rock’ and then took it to Chevy. Producer of the Year.

A rather big deal.

We spent the rest of the evening asking slurring questions and forgetting answers – some of which I taped and will play on the show. We would a week or so later end up in Memphis and treated like royalty by people who owned jets – just for knowing him.

All this from a coupon.