In early 1991 my sister Carol was staying at some artist's colony in Florida and invited me to visit her.  She had a rented white Mustang and nothing to do.  How could I not go?

For a California resident born and raised in upstate New York, Florida offered a lot of new and unusual experiences.  Flatness and palmettos and alligators, for example.  But the main thing, as far as I was concerned, was that at last I could visit the Kennedy Space Center, which I had wanted to do ever since I sat in my father's lap to watch the moon rocket launch on TV in 1969.