If you want to be governor, this is what you have to do. You have to come to a place like this, Daytona Beach, Fla., seven months before the primary and nine months before the general election, here among that only-in-Florida mix of retirees, NASCAR acolytes, breakfast-buffet scavengers, Hooters waitresses, and bikers. You have to come here if you want to have a three-legged-deer-on-a-freeway’s chance in hell of anybody knowing who you are.
But it is here where, for the first time this day, it feels plausible, even possible, that Bill McBride could capture the Democratic nomination for governor, that this isn’t just some Who’s Who lawyer’s quixotic exercise in self-glorification or some political junkie’s midnight fantasy. Here, late in a long stretch of campaigning, at a sleepy, rustic bed-and-breakfast along the Intercoastal Waterway on Florida’s east coast.
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