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If you drive north on U.S. 19 for hours, turning only at the end of the journey, you'll reach the Florida State Capitol. Almost one clean shot takes you to the hub of state government, a formal house of lawmaking festooned with candy-striped awnings.

I suggest this road trip if you're ever so inclined. Sure, it might save time to hop on an interstate, but you'll risk missing Florida's delicious stop-and-go diaspora: suburban subdivisions and desolate trailers, spicy strip clubs and charming churches, billboards for all-night lawyers and all-night diners, pop-up jam stands and untouched wildlands.

Florida has always changed personalities every few hundred feet. Florida is not one opinion, not one vibe, not one leathery-skinned meme. Florida is a six-lane highway of contradictions.

That's why it's interesting to see political commentators peer into our peninsula as if we are curiosities under a bell jar. How could Florida voters make such a confusing array of choices? What do they actually believe? As NBC News analyst Steve Kornacki put it as Tuesday's primary returns poured in, "We're really going to have a Florida show tonight."

Wonks are still busy parsing the flashier results. Rep. Angie Nixon, a progressive underdog aligned with democratic socialists, handily beat moderate, monied, retired serviceman Lt. Col. Alex Vindman in a bid for U.S. Senate. Meanwhile, former Republican David Jolly won the Democratic primary for governor, representing a more moderate wing of the party.

Jolly will be fighting against MAGA Republican and U.S. Rep. Byron Donalds, who would be the state's first Black governor and who, thanks to party infighting, can't get the endorsement of the sitting governor. His racist, fringe foe James Fishback got plenty of attention in online corners but came in a distant fourth.

And then there's the school board in Sarasota, the former political home of Moms for Liberty co-founder Bridget Ziegler and scene of the craziest public meeting I've ever witnessed. That board flipped to the left and signaled a cultural change.

The whole tableau may feel contradictory, but it also feels so Floridian.

Florida is now a red state, and Republican registrations have grown under Gov. Ron DeSantis. But remember that Florida has been gerrymandered to within an inch of its natural life, and blood-red maps are not necessarily an indicator of what everyday folks care about.

For instance, even while decisively electing President Donald Trump, a majority of Florida voters supported amendments at odds with his platform: legalizing recreational marijuana and protecting abortion rights.

DeSantis was reelected in a landslide, yet environmental schemes emanating from his office have been met with near-universal scorn. Wildly unpopular AI data centers and surveillance cameras that feed police databases are facing a backlash across party lines.

Floridians are worried about untenable homeowner's insurance and property taxes. They're worried about $4-a-gallon gas and tainted eggs. They're worried about survival. Voters may be more inclined than ever to vote for someone who will help them, no matter the political fine print.

This primary offered a small insight into Florida's tastes; only a quarter of registered voters turned out. After the Nov. 3 general election, pundits will try again to read the signs and tease out a cohesive message, a monolithic mandate. But anyone who has spent enough time in Florida knows the signs are ever-changing on the long, weird and colorful road trip to the top.

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Stephanie Hayes is a columnist at the Tampa Bay Times in Florida. Follow her at @stephrhayes on Instagram.

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