Every touring musician I've ever known has his or her own favorite pleasure. Mine is motel rooms. I don't know why - maybe it's because I never stayed in one until I was grown and on the road. My mom and dad only took us out of town to visit relatives, and that after packing a meal of biscuits and pork, or fried chicken. And a jug of iced tea. If we stopped, it was at the gas station because someone had to pee.
     So I love motels.
     We drove seven hours to Sarasota a few months ago to play at a Celtic festival there. We arrived after midnight, and found the motel room they'd given us. It was a sixth-floor room with a nice balcony beyond a wall of glass. We were too tired to look for a restaurant, so we settled on bags of chips from the vending machine and Jameson's over ice.
     At six thirty that same morning, as we prepared to leave for the festival after a couple of hours of sleep, I was standing on the balcony with a glass of Jameson's, watching the sun rise over that pretty town. I heard a ruckus, a flutter of wings, and a flock of wild parrots flew past me.
     I've stayed in great hotels in Europe -  in London, on the island of Guernsey across the street from the place Victor Hugo churned out great novels, in Irish castles looking out at the wild Atlantic, but I've never had a better meal or stay than in that Holiday Inn on Lido Key.
     Any favorite road memories you'd like to share? Any secret pleasures?