The Final Shuttle Launch and the Future of the Space Coast

by Paul Brady on

About 12 hours before STS-135 was set to blast off for low Earth orbit, my friend Rob and I were driving toward Titusville, Florida with a car full of camping supplies and our fingers crossed. The weather was foul, and the chances of a launch were just 30 percent. But we were in Central Florida to see a blast off, and so to the Space Coast we were headed.

Traveling the American Road – The Last Shuttle Launch: STS135


As we know now, the shuttle did take off as scheduled, making its final graceful, powerful arc into the low clouds, punching through the smallest break in the weather on the way to the International Space Station. It was an exciting, historic moment, made bittersweet by the mass layoffs that would follow the shuttle’s landing on July 21.

The economic impact of the program’s end on the Space Coast will extend beyond the pink slips delivered to now-unneeded engineers and shuttle support staff. As one construction worker I met explained, the estimated 1 million visitors that turned out for the final launch will likely never again come to his hometown. Rooms, restaurants and tours will go empty, leaving the tourism business reliant on seasonal fishing trips and historians of the space age who will trickle in, yes, but not in numbers like those seen this July.

Two days after the launch, I visited Kennedy Space Center, where pride in the 30-year history of the shuttle program is enormous–to the point that no one there seemed to have acknowledged its end. A sign reminded visitors that “NASA centers have embarked on a phased program of expanding and updating the space shuttle’s capabilities” and a short film suggested that “Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see a shuttle on the way to the pad today.” While there was no shortage of visitors that day, I wondered how long the attraction of the place would last without a manned spaceflight program and how long the gift shop would continue selling out of STS-135 merchandise.

Driving away from the Space Coast, we stopped for a bite at Corky Bells, a seafood restaurant in Cocoa, Florida, very close to the Space Center. Near the register at the entryway was a doorknob from its original location, engulfed by a fire sparked by Hurricane Frances in 2004. The restaurant moved into its current building, reconnected with its regulars and kept serving heaping platters of fried crabs, clams, shrimp and fish. Lunch was excellent, but without launch-day crowds, will Corky’s weather the coast’s latest storm?

Road Trip Gear: Seven Must-Have Essentials

by Paul Brady on


When you’ve got a road trip vehicle to fill with stuff, packing becomes a headache. A corollary the old saw that work expands to fill the available time, the stuff you bring seems to expand to fill the available cargo space. Every time I check into a motel, I seem to have more junk to haul to my room.

But there’s a small batch of necessities I keep coming back to day in and day out. They’re my seven trip essentials, and I’d recommend them to anyone hitting the road this summer, whether you’re going across the country or just on a weekend camping trip.

Traveling the American Road – Road Trip Gear


Smartphone: The number one gadget to make your life easier. No matter the carrier or data plan, a smartphone will get you turn-by-turn navigation, make mobile hotel bookings, stream music, take photos and connect with friends back home. It’s an absolute essential.

Portable wifi: The folks at Virgin Mobile loaned me an MC760, a 3G USB air card that gets my laptop online anywhere there’s a cell signal. The connection isn’t the fastest, but it will let you upload blog posts about the final shuttle launch from inside your tent in Titusville–or anywhere else you can’t find wifi.

Rain gear: File this one under “only because I have the space.” Gear maker Arc’teryx loaned me the Beta AR, a high-end shell that I’ve only used once, when a downpour in Orlando dropped three inches of rain in three hours. If only I’d had the waterproof pants to go with.

Laptop: I packed my personal MacBook Air on this trip, and I use it much more often than my work-issued machine that weighs twice as much. So far, it’s held up to my abuse: It’s even survived crashing into the pavement in Detroit, with only minor battle wounds.

Sunscreen: I’ve been on multiple beaches this trip, and of course walking the streets of cities puts you out in the sun. Spray-on sunscreen is dead easy to apply and isn’t greasy. I keep it in a cup holder for easy access.

Tents and sleeping bags: Whether you’re camping out or just crashing on a friend’s floor, packing your own bedding can be a life-saver. You never know when plans will change: As long as you have the trunk space, better to pack your own campground-ready hotel.

Something fun: I brought along a parafoil kite, which has no rods and therefore packs down into a tiny stuff sack. It’s great on the beach, fun in a park, even a conversation starter if you pull it out at a roadside rest stop. It’s fun, and isn’t that what road trips are supposed to be?

Six Driving Tips from a Summer Spent on the American Road

by Paul Brady on


This summer, I’ve driven more than 5,000 miles, from the Great Lakes to New England to Florida and beyond. Operating my car for more than 150 hours in about six weeks doesn’t make me a professional driver, but it certainly has exposed me to heaps of stupidity on America’s highways, interstates and surface roads. With my summer’s experience, I respectfully submit the best six ways you can be a better driver by this evening’s commute.

Keep an open mind: Driving is a lot like Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon: Everyone thinks they’re above average behind the wheel. Sadly, the real world doesn’t work like radio, and statistically half of people are worse than average drivers. As Tom Vanderbilt points out in his phenomenal book Traffic, it’s not really anyone’s fault: psychology, society and plain old habit conspire to make driving one of the most difficult undertakings of our daily lives, even if it seems natural. Admitting that you may not be the world’s best driver paves the way to the second most important thing you can do…

Pay attention: A great number of car crashes could be avoided if drivers were simply paying attention. It’s not easy! Radio, cup holders, cell phones, iPods, kids, pets and navigation gizmos all vie for our attention in the cockpit. But good drivers banish distraction and watch the road–in front of them, beside them and behind them. It takes more mental energy and you’ll feel a little silly constantly checking your surroundings but at least you won’t be reading the newspaper behind the wheel. (I’ve seen it happen.)

Cruise carefully: The thing about cruise control is that it doesn’t actually drive the car for you: It’s up to the operator to actually slow and steer the vehicle. But that’s changing with adaptive cruise control, a feature I have in the Explorer that Ford’s loaned me this summer. (Other carmakers are starting to add the feature, too.) Rather than simply plow ahead at a constant speed, this new cruise system adjusts the throttle and brakes to keep a minimum distance between my vehicle and the one in front of me. Safer, yes, but still not autopilot.

Respect truckers: The idea that truckers are out to crush all four-wheeled cars is as outmoded as tail fins. But pros in big rigs have, by virtue of their size, a harder time accelerating and braking than those of us in passenger cars, meaning it often feels threatening to be around fully loaded trucks. By giving these drivers a wider berth, you’ll make their day and your day a little bit easier–not to mention safer.

Press the pedals: In an attempt to drive more safely, drivers often don’t push their machines anywhere near their mechanical limits. Driving on a race track earlier this summer gave me a better appreciation for my vehicle’s capabilities. Defensive driving or race training courses can help train you to trust your car to do its job at high speeds, under stressful driving conditions–leaving you to think and react rather than scream in terror.

Don’t drink and drive: This advice sounds obvious, but more than 10,000 people were killed in accidents involving alcohol in 2009. Driving drunk is wildly dangerous–and it’s unnecessary. Think a cab ride home at the end of the night is too expensive? How much are court costs, lost employment and possibly much worse? In one case, more than $5,000.

In Search of Serendipity in Savannah

by Paul Brady on


Sitting in the passenger seat of a lime green Mustang, driving out of the historic center of Savannah, I started to wonder what I’d gotten myself into. A guy in a black suit was taking me, well, somewhere.

I asked where we were headed. “Bonaventure,” said Shannon, as he started describing one of the biggest cemeteries in the area and the funerary traditions of Georgia’s generations past. I was going to tour a graveyard with a stranger I’d just met, and it was a perfectly Savannahian moment.

Traveling the American Road – Savannah


My friend Rob and I arrived in Savannah with little more than a vague notion that it’s filled with lots of public squares. And it certainly is: one of the most impressive planned cities in the United States, along with Washington, D.C., there’s seemingly a live oak-shaded place to stop every time you turn a corner. But we didn’t want to spend our stay hiking in the 100-degree heat.

We had little idea of what to see or do, so Rob and I headed for the hotel bar, which usually leads to an adventure of one sort or another. We met Becki, the bartender, yes, but also an ambassador to the city who seems to know everything and everyone in town. In minutes, Rob and I had a table for dinner and a pedicab waiting to take us there. (A caution: Pedicabs are just as touristy in Savannah as they are everywhere else.)

At Sapphire Grill, we sat at the bar, sampling appetizer after appetizer while drawing recommendations of what to do out of the staff. They kept coming. A guy sitting at the other end of the bar spoke up, with a dream quote. “Savannah is the kind of place where you start drilling down and you find more and more.”

Later, Becki told us to call her friend Shannon Scott, an expert on Savannah’s history, which tends toward the eerie. We made plans to do a tour in the morning, but I don’t remember agreeing on cemetery sightseeing. No matter: that’s where we were headed, to see the graveyard featured in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, where a number of Savannah’s best (and most tragic) tales should be told.

Shannon’s tour took us past noteworthy graves of Johnny Mercer, Gracie Watkins, Corinne Elliot Lawton and Noble Wimberly Jones, a founding patriot and delegate to the Continental Congress. Shannon’s insights lent helpful historical context and he told stories we wouldn’t have heard had we visited without a guide. A couple of turned-around tourists we bumped into seemed positively overwhelmed; in Shannon’s charge, we were free to simply enjoy the visit, the monumental sculpture and the history.

After the walk, our guide invited us to lunch. We decided on Blowin’ Smoke, where the pulled pork rated as some of the best I’d ever had. Oh, and our waiter? Shannon had met him recently at a party. Just another Savannah coincidence.

Folly Beach, South Carolina: The Country’s Greatest Fourth of July

by Paul Brady on


This most recent Fourth of July, on a beach in South Carolina, a guy named Freddie handed me a beer after I took his photo in front of his American flag. He’d just done his best Iwo Jima pose, and as I tapped his email address into my phone, promising to send him the pictures very soon, he insisted I take a turn hoisting the stars and stripes. Road trip tip: Do whatever a beer-toting, banner-flying patriot asks on Independence Day and you’ll be handsomely rewarded.

Two months ago, I couldn’t have guessed where Folly Beach might be. Now, I’m singing its praises to anyone who will listen. I never thought I’d be planning my first trip to South Carolina, but after a short stay in Folly, I’m already thinking about my second.

Traveling the American Road – Folly Beach Fourth of July


The stay: I was staying at the Tides at Folly Beach, a converted Holiday Inn that enjoys an enviable position on the sand, right next to the fishing pier at the end of Center Street. Balconies look over the water. The beachfront bar bustles with activity as the sun goes down–a fantastic live act was jamming on July 4, and other combos are frequently on stage.

The crowd: These people are here to have a good time. That doesn’t mean getting sloppy drunk–though there’s some of that!–but rather that the crowds at Folly have a vacation mindset. Watches aren’t necessary, and what kind of appointment would you have anyway? Rita’s, an outstanding restaurant across the street from Tides, serves food all day, with the bar open until late. When that closes, head to Surf Bar, a pitch-perfectly themed spot just off Center Street that goes even later.

The vibe: On a scale of one to comatose, Folly is laid back, a step shy of vegetative, even after the morning’s hangover has worn off. No shirt? Not a problem. Barefoot treks to the breakfast food truck? Sure. Drinking a beer on the beach? Just keep it in a plastic cup. Riding motorcycles without helmets? Wait, how do you do it where you’re from?

The beach: It’s enormous, particularly at low tide. On what has to be one of the busiest weekends of the year, I had no problem finding a patch of sand not just for relaxing but for frisbee tossing. The one knock could be that the water approaches bathtub temperatures, but that’s actually a plus if you plan to spend all day swimming. (You should plan to spend all day swimming.)

The show: The night of July 4, I grabbed a bunch of sparklers and headed for the beach, where explosives experts were setting up the night’s show. The casualness about the fireworks was amazing, as families set up towels and beach chairs right below the blast zone. Before the official show started, we were surprised by random flashes and bangs, as people lit their BYO fireworks.

The departure: Perhaps the best thing about Folly is that it feels so removed from real life–while being just nine miles from Charleston, a city well worth seeing in its own right. That makes the beach accessible but at a small remove, a short drive that lets you mind decompress and switch into surf gear. A couple, fellow hotel guests, told me they could see the bridge back to the mainland from their room. That’s not a good thing, they said. It reminds them that the real world is just a few miles away.