Returned today from a getaway to Gainesville ... Hemson country.
I combed the local cemeteries for Tom Petty's grave, wrestled Tim Tebow, enjoyed some delicious cold pizza, and otherwise kicked back Gator-style with Ben and Lyndsay.
Attention: Mustachioed. I've found your messiah. He wore a powder blue polo shirt and favored clear dixie cups of light beer.
Attention: Self. Whiskey sours? Really?
Ben made sure I saw the sights; The Swamp and the O-Dome — two places where national championships, I'm reminded repeatedly, are cultivated. When Ben and Lydsay make their way south, I'll be sure to show them the raceway and Firemen's Field ... and then pretend not to notice the inevitable pity in their eyes.
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