SR-16 is a two-laner that shoots west from St. Augustine, all the way across the county to the St. Johns River and then over the increasingly, or so it seems, narrow Shands Bridge. Was a couple of fatalities on that bridge in recent years, so a three foot concrete barrier was installed its full mile-and-a-half length for safety. Its claustrophobic now. Feels like a flue or chute. Like riding atop an aqueduct. At 65 mph. Tight fit.
It is impossible to see how one could walk nearly a half mile out on the bridge to the top of highest part of that bridge and throw a bottle of thick black water made so by the fresh ashes of nine months of Spanish class notes over the side and into the St. Johns. Seems impossible, but I know it can be done.
I passed through Green Cove Springs with only a passing glance of the landmarks of my past, except for the Spanish class notes.
As I slowed for Penny Farms, I had to make a decision: start north to meet up with the interstate, or stay on SR-16 through Starke, then SR-100 to Lake City, thus diminishing the interstate driving time by a third. I stayed on SR-16, the same route used by our family to barely-flee Floyd.
Westward by Camp Blanding’s four-lane stretch, made so during WW-II probably, then slowly through Starke, along a half dozen blocks of US-301, the four-lane faux-interstate, a short cut between I-95 and I-75 and I-4 and I-10, for cars and lots of trucks.