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Time does not exist in a Buc-ee’s. A few minutes in the popular gas-station-on-steroids can feel like breathing the fumes of sausage, bacon and flammable souvenirs for a full year. But Mercedes has partnered with Buc-ee’s to offer their signature charging station on site, and I had a vehicle to power up—a Mercedes EQS sedan. Mercifully, it didn’t take long.
I can’t say I’m passionate about driving. My travel kinks don’t show themselves on I-95 South; what I’m into is efficiency. I like arriving at my destination quickly and with as little friction as possible. The open road doesn’t do much for me; I don’t have the patience. Another thing I have trouble paying sustained attention to is Formula 1—but like most people, I watched a few seasons of Formula 1: Drive To Survive on Netflix and enjoyed it. But last week, when I was asked if I wanted to drive an EQS sedan from my hometown of Atlanta, Georgia to Miami, Florida, to attend the Miami Grand Prix, an F1 race weekend at the Hard Rock Stadium in Miami Gardens, I said yes.
Since the drive would clock in at over 10 hours—far too much for me to do in one shot—I needed a co-pilot to take shifts at the wheel and keep it interesting. My friend Ryland Blackinton, a songwriter and producer in Los Angeles, was the first person to hard sell me on F1. I called and asked him to join me for the drive and the race weekend. We met in Atlanta. I picked up our fully charged electric chariot from Mercedes HQ in Sandy Springs, had dinner at El Myr, hung out with my parents, and woke up the next morning to hit the road.
We stopped in St. Augustine, Florida, a beautiful city with a rich history. The local gym was shockingly good, and the hotel was charming even though the Zyn-and-Celsius-powered college valet took his sweet time. We made great time to Miami, and Ryland gave me an expert-level breakdown of the players, the setup, and how the weekend might play out. The car allowed for something I had never seen: the ability to toggle between two phones, both connected to Bluetooth seamlessly. It was a revelation. Before long, we were valeting in Miami and I slid into the hotel room desk chair with five minutes to spare before recording an episode of How Long Gone.
Saturday was the qualifying round at the Grand Prix, but first we took the new G Class for a spin through a rainy Key Biscayne and Coconut Grove, which ended up being quite therapeutic. Sitting up high and stopping only to check out a cool independent grocery store, Counting Crows on the speakers, is not a bad way to spend a morning. The drive to the stadium for qualifying was brutal, but once we arrived and I scanned two barcodes and showed a sexy die-cut backstage pass, we were ushered into the Miami Club, overlooking the treacherous Turn 5—think Delta One Lounge meets humid tropical day party.