I headed west from Tampa on I-4 and in Lakeland saw an exit for SR33. Turning left to take a northward jaunt, I crossed through Polk City, admiring the feed store and other small businesses, wondering the life locals lead in a rural area where everyone knows everyone else in town. I kind of like that atmosphere, getting a taste of it when I lived in Tavernier in the upper Florida Keys for seven years and exchanging hellos with familiar faces all over the grocery store.

Onward on SR33, with horse farms, country schools, homes from modest to expansive, the occasional junky car to pickup trucks with gun racks and, oddly, a white stretch limousine parked in front of a trailer.

My instincts said to take the SR561 turn toward Clermont. Clermont? Never been there. West of that town I passed a number of posh-looking housing developments, roadside homes with Christmas scenes dotting the yards, and so many dogs wandering around that I slowed wayyyyy down rounding each turn.

On a rare straightaway I spotted what appeared to be a hawk or an eagle on a pole. I snapped a pic from my car window, with no other vehicle in sight miles in front or behind me. Sure didn't look like Tampa around here.

On the outskirts of Clermont, I made a series of random turns just to see where they would take me, and ended up at a neat little restaurant with a parking lot that uses railroad slats to designate each parking space. Taking a seat on the deck overlooking a lake, I perused the menu and ignored my diet, choosing the half-pound cheeseburger with fries. Hey, nobody there knew me.

A float plane moved into the brisk wind on the lake, shakily taking off and causing us onlookers to put down our food and drink to silently hope the single-engine machine didn't plunge nose-down into the water or flip over in a sheer. As it gained altitude, I heard plates and forks again rattling, the tension having passed.

I decided to return using the same route, as quite frankly my sense of direction isn't the greatest and I already felt smug about knowing approximately where I was. Exploration of the outdoors excites me, but getting lost doesn't. It's interesting how a reverse view of the entry route provides a very different perspective. I saw things I either missed looking the other way or simply hadn't appreciated.