PyrateJohn - the meanderings of a rogue Pirate looking past 40

Adios Memphis!

2009-08-04T09:03:00.001-04:00

The reluctance of other people to try something new always amazes me. And with that said our month-long stay in Memphis has come to an end.

Frankly, Memphis has been a city that I had only given passing thought to in the past, but after being there, has certainly impressed me.

If you are a fan of rock and roll music then Memphis is a mecca that we should all visit. The influence of Elvis, both in music and movies, practically speaks for itself, and Memphis is practically a shrine to Elvis, even well outside the confines of the Graceland estate and museums.

Numerous other musicians can trace their roots to Memphis, the blues, and the Sun and Staxx Records systems. Elvis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, BB King, W.C. Handy, Rufus Thomas, Ike and Tina Turner, Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, the Staple Singers, Delaney and Bonnie, Wilson Pickett, Luther Ingram, Albert King, the Bar-Kays, Booker T. & the MG's (the MG's included Steve Cropper and Donald "Duck" Dunn, best known to those of us of a certain generation as most of the Blues Brothers Band). Memphis has made an amazing, amazing contribution to American music.

Memphis is hugely influenced by New Orleans, and no place in Memphis celebrates the perpetual party of good music and good times quite like the heart of Beale Street, which reminds a person of Bourbon Street, but without Bourbon's puke in the gutters.

Or Bourbon Street's adult entertainment district, but that's beside the point.

But all good things must come to an end, and San Antonio, Texas is our next stop. The Kampgrounds of America at Graceland (yup, Elvis' very own trailer park) has been our home for a month but it's time to go.

For more info on Memphis, and great places to see and to go to, I encourage you to check out my Memphis articles at the Examiner at http://www.examiner.com/x-14975-San-Antonio-Road-Trip-Travel-Examiner

Collected travel articles

2009-06-27T08:14:00.002-04:00

I am starting to get my travel articles organized at the San Antonio edition of Examiner.com. The first one up is a short piece on the ferry at Los Ebanos, TX, the last hand-operated ferry on the Tex/Mex border. Check out either my home page (www.PirateJohn.com) or my Examiner page (http://www.examiner.com/x-14975-San-Antonio-Road-Trip-Travel-Examiner) for links to those articles.

Thanks!

Greetings from Tunica, Mississippi!

2009-05-15T12:29:00.005-04:00

We've been hangin' out at the RV park at Sam's Town Casino in Tunica, MS for several days. I expect that we'll move to the Graceland RV Park (yup, Elvis' own trailer park! ) in a day or two.

The bike rode just fine but I haven't unloaded it because we've had steady winds, rains, and I anticipate moving soon anyway. Been down on Beale Street already and checked out the ML King assassination site. I'm looking forward to our anticipated month-long stay in the Memphis area.

~~~

On a personal note Deb's mom continues to hang in there as her chemotherapy continues. Deb and her family are trying to make arrangements for the care of her father as it is painfully obvious that with or without his wife he is no longer able to care for himself.

~~~

On an entirely different subject Deb got a call from a friend telling us that they expect to shut down one of our favorite watering holes. I have known these folks since, literally, I first settled in Jacksonville almost 15 years ago. To say that the economy sucks is to be nice about it. Take care Kathryn and Darrell. If things come to pass I hope that we see y'all down the road again some day.

~~~

I'm not too big on conspiracy theories even if I do study them for future writing projects. But my visit to the Lorraine Hotel and the King assassination site gave me some chills. Why? I am sure that most of us have seen the above photo of Dr. King as he lay dying and his associates pointing to where the shot came from. That's because, once you see the scene in person, you realize that the rooming house where the assassin supposedly fired the shots was NOT in the direction that everyone is pointing towards.

Stay tuned. More research is in order here.

It don't get much better than this!

2009-05-07T19:19:00.006-04:00

On the road again and headed to Memphis, TN. I am sitting here at a Pilot Truck Stop in Valdosta, Georgia as I type this. Ate dinner at the nearby Waffle House and that experience practically drove me - running - back to the Wanderlodge so that I could drink a couple of shots of mezcal to get the Waffle House taste out of my mouth. Here I am running the A/C, watching the TV, and surfin' the net as the sun goes down and the lot lizards commence their nightly mating calls on the CB radio.

Doesn't get much better than this, right?

This will be the first run of the latest modifications to my trailer, and I am carrying a motorcycle as well as the Rover. So far, maybe 150 miles into the trip, things are riding well although I did notice a tiny dent in my Conch Republic front license plate that looked suspiciously like the crash bars from the bike caught it.

Oh well. Land Rovers and gnarly touring motorcycles are supposed to be a bit beat and rusty. They are meant to be used and used hard and often. There are no trailer queens in my little fleet.

On top of that I am personally becoming increasingly annoyed at the New Keys tourists whose idea of something adventurous is to try a different drink flavor at Margaritaville. Those people have no clue about the Keys when Key West was a working community and the last outpost for scoundrels, smugglers, and the military. That bent Key West vanity plate represents the antithesis of the matronly and cranky New Keys women, who fly in from Heathen Northern regions, and then proceed to complain about the heat and the uncivilized, crazy men of the Keys as they wear their fake Hawaiian shirts from one tourist trap to another.

There. Thanks for letting me vent ;)

Anyway, more photos of the traveling circus:

The shop here at the Pilot gave me a good price on an oil change. The reliable ol' Detroit takes 7 gallons of oil and the particular oil that the "experts" on Detroit Diesels recommend is pretty hard to obtain. I ordered some before I left JAX so with a little luck we'll be taking care of that project tomorrow. We would have changed oil tonight 'cept that they couldn't get the trailer in the shop bay and I was too tired to unload the Rover and drop the trailer. Tomorrow, however is another day, as they say.

Turns out that Graceland has an RV park. That's right - I will be staying in Elvis' very own trailer park while in Memphis. I'm also getting there in time for the Memphis in May bar-b-que contest, so there should be some tales coming out of this trip.

Stay tuned!

Catching up

2009-04-20T13:50:00.003-04:00

Blogs. Gotta love them. I have actually started blogging on three different subjects since I returned from the Tex/Mex border, and never finished nor posted 'em. It's been a busy several weeks.

For those of you that really, really badly want to keep in touch I would encourage you to add the ol' Pirate to your friends over at Facebook.com. Just search for the email address "PirateJohn@aol.com" and my real world persona should pop right up.

~~~

Seemingly nothing will stop Daytona Bike Week, whether it's the shifting sands of local politics or a world wide economy rapidly going down the drain. Still, a reduced-content Bike Week isn't exactly a sign of good things.

A few years ago the City Fathers (and some would argue a few City Muthas) on the Daytona Beach City Council decided that they wanted to limit Bike Week and the associated noise and traffic congestion. The same Powers That Be even hinted - strongly - that if the bulk of this disorganized event were to move away from Daytona Beach then it wouldn't break any hearts.

Fair enough. Just sometimes you have to be careful about what you wish for. Because you might get it.

When the Daytona Beach City Council were agitating to reduce the scope of Bike Week the big Harley-Davidson dealership that was located near downtown Daytona Beach announced that they were going to move their facility to a spot at the intersection of US 1 and I-95, out in what was then the sticks near the not-so-big metropolis of Ormond Beach, FL.

Since then Destination Daytona (http://www.destinationdaytona.com/) has grown into a multi-hundred acre site that encompasses not only Bruce Rossmeyer's glittering H-D dealership, but other bike dealerships, a hotel, a truck stop, specialty stores and so forth.

With some of the traditional biker bars and camp grounds not too far away on US 1, much of the emphasis - and traffic - of Daytona Bike Week has indeed shifted out of Daytona and into Ormond Beach.

The bottom line is that on the final Saturday of Bike Week you could really tell that the crowds that used to line and congest Main Street were somewhere else. Either they were on US 1 (which was backed up for miles when I rode across it on I-95) or everyone stayed home to save their nickles and dimes.

My gut feeling is that attendance, in general, was well down. Forget whatever official stats come out because most of them have a vested interest in promoting a healthy Bike Week. There simply weren't as many folks out and riding in and around Daytona Beach as in previous years.

Trust me folks, when attendance is down at Bike Week this country is in a world of hurtin'

There are plenty of folks that have been going to Daytona for decades and decades, and who plan their yearly vacations around this one event, which is a sacred rite of passage for motorcyclists. So if those folks are staying home ... well, you do the math.

Here's one of the downtown Daytona Beach streets, which used to be just absolutely packed on Saturday:

Even the cops looked bored (notice the "Rent Me" sign on the cop's Segway wheel):

~~~

One of my many passions in life is Formula 1 auto racing.

One of my few frustrations in life is Dish System satellite television.

Dish System simply isn't geared up for folks that are full-time RV'ers. They expect you to have a satellite installation at your home, and then they will be happy to sell you a second installation for your RV.

So I went without satellite TV for a few months until I discovered that Dish has a pay-as-you-go system that supposedly doesn't care where you are hidin' out.

In theory, that works for me because the only times that I want to watch premium channels are when Formula 1 runs on the Speed Channel, every second week or so.

That's the theory. The reality is that Dish's billing computer has been down for over 24 hours for "routine maintenance" and I wasn't able to get the Chinese (Shanghai) Grand Prix broadcast.

So I wound up watching the F1 telecast at a bar, and struggling to hear over the sound of the juke box. Nice.

What did catch my attention, and frankly astounded me, is that there is a new team on the track. Not only a new team, but in a sport where winning dynasties take place over years and decades, they have won the first two races of the season!

So what's the story? Where did these guys come from?

A few months ago Honda suddenly announced that they were withdrawing from F1 after a lackluster few years. It would appear that the former Honda team manager, Russ Brawn, was able to quickly put together a financial package and he bought the team. Renamed Brawn Mercedes, the team proceeded to junk the Honda engines and struck a deal with Mercedes for the same engines that had been going into the Mercedes-McLarens that won the World Championship last year.

Previously written off as has-beens and non-performers, drivers Jenson Button and Rubens Barichello seized the opportunity.

The results? Button and Barichello were 1st and 2nd at the F1 races in Australia and Malaysia, and then 3rd and 4th respectively in China as the Renault/Red Bull team - itself one of the newer teams - decisively demonstrated that they had the preferred solution for the heavy rains of Shanghai.

This is going to be an VERY interesting F1 season!

Note that the Brawn cars are so new that they don't even have proper sponsors, although Virgin did have some lettering on the cars in China:

Supposedly Russ Brawn pulled the team together in 6 weeks. Just amazing!

~~~

On a personal note, I'm about at the end of my maintenance projects here at the Jacksonville workshop.

Tie downs for a motorcycle have been added to my trailer and I'll test that out in a day or two by taking the red GS down to Tom High's shop in Deland so that he can swap engines.

The flooding in the Midwest has eased and at this time there is no reason to think that FEMA will need any subcontractors to help with the specialties that we are trained for.

So I am probably going to have to start taking a hard look at making some $$$ to fund future travels and future projects.

The real estate business here in Florida is past being dead (think in terms of the corpse moldering) and with a large inventory of unsold houses there isn't much hope for a rapid recovery, although I will have to say that Northern Florida seems to be doing better financially than Southern Florida.

Soooooooo ... I've been making some serious noises about going back to Texas, where the economy is obviously better. Deb agrees.

I'd really like to go back to the Rio Grande Valley. The only problem is that the Rio Grande Valley looks like one of the tougher places to get a job if you aren't bilingual. So is it better to move from one of the better economical areas in a depressed state to a tough place in a better performing state? That may be a lateral move but at least it would put us within a few hundred miles of Houston, where the economy obviously is thriving.

It would also put me on the border where I can ride my motorcycles and explore. Tough gig!

Decisions, decisions.

On top of that Deb's Mom is in a hospital in Memphis as I write this and Deb has traveled to Memphis to be with her. Deb's father is in the later stages of Alzheimer's so Deb and her family have their hands full.

Stay tuned. If Deb's not back in a few weeks I may be firing up the Bluebird to head to Texas by way of Tennessee. Beale Street, here we come!

269 miles to go

2009-03-05T09:21:00.015-05:00

I am waking up in a rest area in rural western Florida and see that there is a sign right in front of me that sez "Overnight trailer parking and camping prohibited." Presumably that doesn't apply to Pirates. Nor to the other folks who got here at about the same time that I did last night and who are still here.

Finding a place to park last night was tough. My goal was to get to the Lucky Thirteen truck stop but I guess things haven't been so lucky for them lately 'cause they were out of business!

~~~

The ol' Bluebird is pretty tough to drive. I am constantly reminded that I have my entire house right behind me and my SUV on a trailer, and that an accident is unthinkable. As RV's go this one is quite road worthy but it's simply big - bigger than most trucks with the trailer attached. For a variety of reasons it's tough to see out of after dark. Acceleration should be measured with a calendar rather than a stop watch, and the brakes meet specs but you definitely don't want to have to do a panic stop.

Consequently a 350 mile day is usually a long day for me. From what I have heard and seen that's about right for most RVs. I can cruise around 60mph on level roads but I discover that the folks that pass me in other RVs spend more time on the side of the road resting than I do.

A couple of days ago I ran into this couple with a newer Bluebird. They passed me three times that day. They were running quicker but stopping more often.

~~~

I am seeing bunches of folks on motorcycles who are carrying luggage and heading eastbound, so I presume that they are all going to Daytona Bike Week. The Iron Butt Association also has a dinner in Jacksonville tomorrow (Friday) and I expect to see some of my pals riding in for that. (Note: obviously I wrote this a few days ago and for the folks that made it to the IBA dinner I apologize 'cause I missed it!)

Here is a group of Harley riders at the Pensacola rest area just after you cross the bay:

~~~

RV's are like boats. They are all about maintenance. The constant pounding and vibration when traveling breaks things and disrupts other things. Sometimes it gets them working again, however.

The 'bird has three LP gas heaters, supplemented by built in electric heaters and a system that draws heat from the engine coolant when you are on the road. One of the LP gas heaters quit in Texas. It must have been some sort of debris in the intake, because it's working just fine now.

Wish that I could say the same for my computers. I have two tower units, a laptop on a docking station, and a micro Sony that's about the size of two Palm organizers all mounted in or on my desk, and they use a switch so that I control everything with one keyboard, one mouse, and one LCD monitor. Something must be loose because the computers seem to be booting but are slow to display on the monitor. Sheesh. And after the keyboard hit the floor yesterday for the 100th time the Control key doesn't seem to be working.

~~~

I have been showering every morning but after 4 days am getting short on water. Thankfully I should be at our workshop tonight and I can fill the tank back up. Still ... hot water and a real shower whilst in a truck stop parking lot or a rest area is pretty civilized. I pinch myself with how well this stuff is working but when we originally bought the Bluebird the water pressure was low and we had leaks in the system, so it has taken quit a bit of work to get to this point.

~~~

On my first day of travel along coastal Texas I recorded a little bit better than 6.5 miles per gallon, which is considerably better than the 5 mpg that I had been expecting. The old two stroke Detroits are reliable and powerful for their size but they are thirsty and smoggy. They also have a reputation for spitting out oil and leaking, but I will have to say that mine is pretty civilized.

I fueled at a small truck fuel stop on the US side of the Progreso crossing and fuel was $1.93 a gallon. That contrasts with almost $5 a gallon in Florida when we left last summer.

One of the appeals to the Rio Grande Valley is that Mexico has kept fuel prices stable for years and while the exchange rate has varied quite a bit fuel at the Petro stations in Mexico has generally run about $2.20 a gallon. I had planned to run across the border and refuel but as luck would have it diesel is actually cheaper right now in the States than it is in Mexico.

~~~

Folks just joining me on Facebook who commented that they were enjoying reading my travel tales are probably thinkin' "well ... he's going to be home tonight and that will end the series." Wrong Kemo Sabe ... I have a fair amount of material from Mexico yet to be posted. Be scared!

~~~

Each cat has a different attitude when it comes to traveling.

As soon as the big diesel engine fires the Big Grey Cat dives under the couch and stays there until I stop for the night.

Coyote sometimes sleeps on the bed but she usually rushes under the couch as soon as I get ready to move and hangs out with Greyness. She comes out for a snack when I stop. When we moved the 'bird around locally in Jacksonville she used to snooze on the dashboard but by and large she likes a more secure location when traveling.

The Siamese? Sheesh. She has wayyyyyyyyyyyyy too much energy and is fearless. She walks around, and divides her sleeping time between the passenger seat and the bed. Whenever I stop she spends her time starring out the window, bird watching.

Here she is, this morning, perched on top of the driver's seat head rest:

~~~

Here is a man that I really feel sorry for. This is in a Florida rest area somewhere to the west of Tallahassee.

~~~

I got into Jacksonville safe and sound on Thursday night and parked in the large lot behind a friend's bar. Deb was waiting inside and we just generally had a blast. The next morning I fired up the 'bird and drove a few miles for a leisurely breakfast, then parked the motorhome and trailer back at my workshop.

It's good to be home but y'know what? I'm ready to go again, and I really miss Texas!

More random thoughts on travelin'

2009-03-04T10:29:00.008-05:00

Here is a perfectly good example of why truckers and anyone hauling anything on the highway needs to check their straps, ropes, chains, or bubble gum regularly. This is one of the four straps holding my Land Rover onto my trailer. There was a metal end on that one strap once - 60 minutes earlier when I last checked it.

Nothing quite like losing your SUV in the middle of I-10 to ruin your day, I always say.

~~~

When I am traveling by RV I stop quite a bit at truck stops. I used to own a truckin' company and, as a consequence, am painfully aware of the good and the bad of truckstop culture. One thing that I discovered a long time ago is that the vast majority of truckstop food doesn't agree with me. I used to know all the truckstops that had decent restaurants nearby. Last night I walked down the road maybe half a mile to eat at a Chinese place. Hallelujah! It wasn't great, but it beat the buffet at the Petro by the proverbial mile.

~~~

Truck stops vary widely in quality. Flying J caters to RV folks and regular motorists, and they tend to be my first choice to stop in. Some small truck stops are ...well ... just nasty. There is no way around that. I wouldn't let my cats eat in some of those places.

~~~

I spent last night (March 3rd) at the Petro in Hammond, LA. The place gave me sorta bad vibes after dark but I didn't have any problems. RV'ers there are in a separate lot next to the main parking area, which is a good thing because the main part of the truck stop was absolutely full last night.

Finding a place to stop and spend the night used to be an issue for years with truckers, and from what I can see it hasn't gotten any better.

~~~

You run into some odd people at truck stops. Normally, I like "different" folks but the odd ones take some understanding. Like the folks living out of their cars. Or the guy that I asked to move last night so that I could back into a parking space. He was probably harmless enough but he was in a pickup truck with all his possessions, and I could see a dog and a cat keeping him company in that cramped little truck. And he was wayyyyyyyyyyy spaced out, I assume on too much driving and not enough sleep. Whew.

And over the years I have seen some fights and the cops called out to truck stops in crazy episodes that would shame a biker bar.

With that said, there are some awfully nice folks out there too. Sort of a brotherhood of the road. A camaraderie of folks that are constantly on the move. They look out for each other.

~~~

The Hammond Petro has a decent movie theatre and I watched the last half of the latest Batman flick (The Dark Knight) last night. The ending was a bit weak, I thought, but the late Heath Ledger as the Joker was an excellent and inspired performance, and quite different from all of the other Jokers that we have seen on film or TV. Well worth watching.

~~~

You see some interesting sights at truck stops. A flatbed just pulled in and there is a military Hummer on the trailer that is missing the left rear wheel and has quite a bit of rear body damage. Bomb explosion, perhaps? Yikes!

~~~

Texas generally has excellent roads. From Mission to Houston was fine. But I-10 around Beaumont has been under construction since I owned my truckin' company, and that's been almost 20 years. That's silly.

Houston traffic is so aggressive it's unreal. And Bubba, I'll give you a hint: When I light up all seven (7) fricken turn signals on the side of the motorhome and trailer that doesn't mean to dive in there and take my spot as I try to change lanes. It's the law of tonnage - I don't care how cute your Honda is, but if I don't see you and run over you with my 23 ton motorhome that damage won't polish out. It's nothing personal. Please use your brain.

And I love Texas' use of flyover ramps. Some of those things are so tall that you'd swear that the landing pattern at Bush International is below the ramp.

~~~

Louisiana has improved their roads dramatically, but they still have some highways that are so rough as to be unreal when you are in a motorhome. As someone explained it to me the blocks of concrete paving material have settled in the sand and that's why they are so uneven. Consequently, driving a motorhome or truck across these things gives the vehicle a severe back-and-forth pitching motion. Even the bridges are rough and it's a bit unnerving to be sawing the steering wheel back and forth, struggling to maintain control, as you cross some huge bridge across a shipping canal and you realize that the ornamental cast iron guard rail wouldn't even slow down something the size of your vehicle if you were to madly take a stab at plunging 500 ft. down to the river below. Yikes!

~~~

This is Drifters, one of my all time favorite bars. It's on old Rt. 90 along the causeway as you cross old Mobile Bay. The Interstate I-10 bridge pretty well by passes it these days.

It's rough, it's getting rickitier every time that I go there (I suggested that they put a bottle of tequila at the bottom of the railing so that they can sell shots to fortify first time visitors), and the locals make a point to hang there and ride out hurricanes every time lousy weather passes nearby.

The place is one of the few liquor bars open 24/7 so you know that the crowd is entertaining.

The cook lives in a travel trailer just to the right of the place. It's next to the boat ramp and right on Old Mobile Bay so you would think that the fishin' would be excellent. I swear, if he ever moves away I think that I'll snag his spot and hang out for a few months myself.

Traveling March 4th, 2009

2009-03-04T09:11:00.005-05:00

Here I am on Sunday, waking up in the morning, with the parking lot at the border crossing to Progreso, TAM, Mexico all to myself:

I really, really enjoy the RV lifestyle. Sure, going from a multi-bedroom house with enough garage space for 5 cars and compressing your world into 320 sq. ft. has its trade offs, but I love the mobility and the adventure.

FEMA (the US's much maligned Federal disaster relief organization, for those of you outside the USA) sent Deb and me to New Orleans for the Hurricane Gustav Party for what we anticipated would be a three-week stay. Now, almost 6 months later, I am returning "home" to Florida. Hurricane Ike kept us on the road longer than we anticipated. And Deb left Texas to take care of her parents in Tennessee several months ago and then continued on to Florida to take charge of some real estate matters that we had going on.

I miss you Deb!

Only ... I'm not sure that Florida is really my home any more. Deb and I had talked about moving to Texas or perhaps California well before this summer's events and our subsequent several months of meandering along the Texas coast.

New Orleans was great. That city is a party every night, and the food and culture is unique. FEMA sent us on to Austin and finally Houston, Texas.

Austin is very hip, but the surfing sucks.

Houston is closer to the ocean (never mind that Galveston, the closest major beach location, was trashed by Hurricane Ike) and is a thriving, bustling metropolitan area with a strong Hispanic influence.

Deb and I spent many weeks wandering down the coast of Texas, something that I have wanted to do for years. Angleton (where we had a resident alligator), Port Lavaca, Corpus Christi, South Padre Island ... all wonderful experiences!

Here we are camped out in Corpus Christi, TX. Notice how close the salt water is:

We got down to the Mission and McAllen areas, roughly 60 miles inland from Brownsville and right on the Texas/Mexican border and wondered if we had found Paradise. There are over 500 RV parks in that area, and the term "Winter Texan" has come into being to denote those retirees that flock to south Texas during the cold winter months. Unlike the Snowbirds in Florida, which has practically become an insulting term meaning "cheap bastard", the Winter Texans are embraced by the community in South Texas. We expected to stay in the Rio Grande Valley for a week. Then we extended that for a month. Now, three months later, and following a bit of a delay due to chronic refrigerator issues, I am reluctantly on the road back to Florida. McAllen, Texas - such a neat, exciting area.

The Rio Grande Valley has tons of history as the cities along the border were originally part of Mexico. Today you have neat, clean, prosperous communities throughout the area. Living costs are low, and industrial northern Mexico is just a few miles away.

Were it not for having a garage full of motorcycles and other assorted junk in Florida that need to be organized and, in some cases, repaired, I would have happily stayed in the Rio Grande Valley. As things stand we need to get the workshop packed up and get some of our real estate affairs in order, and the next time that we get an opportunity to head back to Texas the bikes will follow.

Back to RV'ing ... just like motorcyclists have a whole 'nuther culture (and sometimes you have subcultures within that culture) there is a huge underground culture among RV folks. Most are retirees. Plenty of us folks are decently well off, even if we do count our beer money every so often. Some folks give you the impression that they have moved into travel trailers or modest RVs for economic reasons. Whatever their story, by and large everyone gets along.

Mission has several RV parks that cater to the over 55 set. I haven't quite passed that marker, but for whatever reason I was still welcomed in an over 55 RV park that had a pool, plenty of space, palms, and a recreation hall where events were held almost every night. That ain't a bad way to retire, let me tell you Brother!

Life moves at a different pace in the RV parks of the Rio Grande Valley:

Buying, and restoring, our Bluebird Wanderlodge was one of the best decisions that we have ever made. Yours Truly had always wanted to have a bus conversion, but a few years of putting the Bluebird to use have impressed me with how well this vehicle - which was designed from the ground up to be a motorhome for full time living - works. Our 'bird is over 25 years old and like a lot of these things they literally don't make them like this any more. She's not flashy like the newer fiberglass RVs but being made out of solid steel, the classic Bluebird is literally tough like a military vehicle, a quality that you appreciate after several days of pounding along rough highways and towing a trailer that weights almost 5 tons.

Here I am, sitting in the parking lot at a Petro Truck Stop in Hammond, Louisiana, writing to you. The generator (a 4 cylinder Perkins diesel) is cranking out enough wattage to run the computers, electric heaters (supplemented with LPG gas heat), and, most importantly ... my coffee maker. I've been up for an hour, watching television and writing, and by now there should be plenty of hot water for a shower. In the Great, Galactic Scheme of Things this ain't a bad way to start the morning!

I need to drag myself over to Pensacola this morning in order to take care of some business. With any luck I will be having a beer in Jacksonville, FL Thursday afternoon.

Here's to more adventures!

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-24T13:42:00.005-05:00

Just wanted to wish y'all - readers, family, and friends - a very happy Christmas. 'tis the time to count our blessings, and to step away from this hectic world of ours and to relax for a day or two.
Now would be an excellent time to reach out to that long lost old friend, relative, maybe even former friend that you have been thinking of. Take the time to wish them the best and to wish them a prosperous 2009.

Feliz Navidad!

Progreso and Ancient Guerrero

2008-12-06T15:02:00.007-05:00

Nuevo Progreso:

We've been traveling back and forth across the border quite a bit recently. Quite a bit. Enough that we are getting to be pals with some of the border guards.

We did a day trip across the border at Progreso, TX to the sister city of Nuevo Progreso, Tamaulipas. I don't believe that I have ever seen a more gringo-friendly town in Mexico in my life, and that includes Tijuana. Contrary to what most Norte Americanos think, for most of Mexico tourism is a minor part of their economy with industry being where it's at. Nuevo Progreso is the opposite - think in terms of Disneyland's spic and span version of Key West. Progreso is all about a crowded main street that you can walk up and down and enjoy numerous restaurants, bars, beauticians, dentists, MDs, and more curio shops than you can shake a wallet at. You see old gringos everywhere wearing bermuda shorts, and housewives having their nails done. With plenty of English language signs and businesses that quote prices in dollars it's pretty tough to believe that this place is Mexican, except for the low prices (even so, dinner or beer will cost you more in Progreso than if you do a little shopping in Reynosa, for example).

Frankly, I have mixed emotions about Nuevo Progreso. We had a great time and an excellent lunch, chatting with a young American accountant and her date about how silly most gringos are for being so afraid of Mexico. Then again, for a first time traveler to Mexico, Nuevo Progreso is almost too easy. In the rest of Mexico you can NOT expect much in the way of English signage and you'd better know your prices in pesos.

Here are some US motorcyclists in downtown Nuevo Progreso:

We decided to head into Mexico for a few days of exploring. Well ... best laid plans, etc.

I had wanted to check out the ghost town to end all ghost towns, the old city of Guerrero, or "Ancient Guerrero," since the entire town was rebuilt maybe 15 miles away from the site of the original city. Today the very clean and pretty town of Nuevo (new) Guerrero sits at the base of the Falcon Dam, which is a relatively unknown border crossing.

A little history: Once upon a time almost all of Texas belonged to Mexico under Spanish control. Guerrero was a major port city on the Rio Grande (Rio Bravo) River and located where the Salado River empties into the Rio Grande.

During the Indian wars in the fledgling United States several Indian tribes were chased so far south that Guerrero found it necessary to fortify the city in order to resist Indian attacks. As late as the 1900's Guerrero enjoyed an international (mostly European) reputation as a resort city.

In the 1950's, when Guerrero had a population of almost 50,000, the USA and Mexico jointly decided to dam the Rio Grande River. Several communities went underwater, including much of Guerrero.

According to several sources that I have, the relocation of Guerrero wasn't pretty, and families were forced off of their properties, particularly those properties that dated back to Spanish land grants. There are a few books out there that claim that, despite initial promises to do so, neither the USA nor Mexico compensated the families for properties that were flooded by Falcon Reservoir, and that the Mexican Army eventually came in and forced the last families out at gunpoint. Buildings were reportedly stripped of their elaborate stone work (much of this going to New York City to reappear on buildings there, I heard) and bulldozers were called in to destroy some of the buildings.

That was then, and this is now. Because the water level of Falcon Lake has dropped dramatically in recent years, Ancient Guerrero is back. And since Mexico has a much kinder, gentler government than in the bad old days, the state of Tamaulipas has even put up signs directing tourists to the site.

That's the good news. The bad news is that the place is still a bit of a bear to find. If you don't look in the right place, that is. I was following some directions from gringos and and using my gringo maps and managed to waste an entire day when, duh ... I discovered that the old city was right there on my Guia Roji atlas that I bought a few years ago on another Mexican trip. Talk about the frickin' obvious.

Day 1. We headed towards Laredo on the US side and crossed into Mexico at the "Smugglers Crossing" at Camargo. This is the last crossing between the USA and Mexico that is a small, cable-operated ferry and is pretty surreal. It's tiny! There is really nothing much on the Mexican side that is nearby to attract gringos, although there is a perfectly nice small Mexican farm town a few miles inland. An older US couple on the ferry told me that the big thing was to buy smokes and such at the duty-free store on the US side and then to ride the ferry to Mexico and back, just to comply with the letter of the law. We saw a couple of Border Patrol guys who looked bored as hell and didn't want to be photographed. Welcome to America!

We had a fine time exploring Mexican Route 2 along the border. The only problem was that we got a late start and discovered that Falcon Lake and Ancient Guerrero were further west than we expected and that Rt. 2 was pretty slow going, much slower than the US equivalent. This part of Mexico was fairly rural and we didn't see any motels in the smaller towns, so we decided that the best course of action was to return to the USA along the Falcon Bridge and head back home to our RV.

Day2: We got up early the next morning, drove for an hour or two, and recrossed the Falcon Bridge. Beautiful view, and a magnificent structure.

We then drove maybe 20 miles down Rt. 2 past where we were the night before, and found the hand-painted sign for the turn off to the old city of Guerrero:

To say that the road was a bit rough is to be kind. We did the better part of an hour on this surface, at times crossing cattle crossings and opening and closing several fences. It's hard-packed rock, dusty and rough, and would be perfect for motorcycling on a BMW GS.

Driving along this road puts you up close and personal with several head of cattle and more than a few goats. This might have been the main road to Guerrero in the 50's but today it's open range and long horn cattle roam.

We cruised along and finally ran into this, which threatened to stop our trip just before we got to the ghost town:

This wasn't just a little water or a mud puddle, this was the freakin' lake beginning to cover the road for maybe an 1/8 of a mile as the water level had gone up following Hurricane Ike!

We checked for an alternative route but could find none. Nearby farmers' fields had their gates locked and their access roads were flooded as well. We were fearing that we might have gotten this close to Ancient Guerrero and failed in our journey, but refusing to take "no" (or "common sense") for an answer Yours Truly went wading to the other side of the lake to test the depth.

The conclusion? The water never got up to my knees, and we'd put the Land Rover to a test. I wouldn't say that there weren't some sphincter-tightening moments as the SS Discovery II set sail in some of the deeper waters, but we made it!

And over on the other side of the water, we found the remains of Ancient Guerrero:

The metal structure in the foreground is the old town windmill. I don't think that this part of town was ever completely covered with water from the lake:

Notice the town's grand hotel, today and in it's heyday in the 50's:

And finally, the centerpiece of Ancient Guerrero, the local cathedral, the Nuestra Señora del Refugio Church. The church has never been completely underwater and in recent years was dry enough that a restoration effort took place where the local believers restored the church interior and repainted the exterior. Alas, with the water levels high again, the church has partially gone back underwater:

As you can see from some photos that I found online, it hasn't been too long ago that the church was completely high and dry:

This aerial view of Ancient Guerrero is fascinating. The church is in the foreground. Out there somewhere there is a large stone bridge that crossed the Salado River. In this photo the lake is slightly lower than it is today:

All and all, a fascinating trip and a fascinating learning experience. While we were in Ancient Guerrero we ran across a gentleman from the Chamber of Commerce in nearby Roma, Texas and his photographer who were working up materials for the tourist trade, but otherwise it was pretty lonely. The one caretaker at the entrance was gone the entire day and no other tourists showed up. So this place is pretty isolated, although there are some large ranches nearby and two or three farmhouses within walking distance of the town. If you go there in the summer then take plenty of bottled water. Don't expect to find a 7-11 nearby.

And the photographer was wearing snake-proof pants, which I thought was a pretty prudent idea.

Hey, Disney this ain't! This is a real ghost town, and in Mexico, to boot.

For more information on Ancient Guerrero may I suggest that y'all check out the sites at

http://www.rice.edu/armadillo/Past/Book/Part5/part5.html

and at

http://jessmerrill-photography.com/images/ViejoGuerrero/vg.html

Next post: Nuevo Laredo and Monterrey.

We've been having a great time. I just wish that I'd be able to find the time to write about it.

2008-11-15T18:51:00.009-05:00

Time. There is never enough.

I was doing OK blogging until about two weeks ago. When I blogged about being at Indianola, Texas we were actually set up down the road in Corpus Christi. Move on to the next locations, Organize those photos, reflect, and take the time to write. That's how it's supposed to work.

Corpus Christi was wonderful. We were on a small island just outside the downtown area proper. There were a handful of bars, a nature park, the USS Lexington aircraft carrier, and little else. And the salt water was maybe 20 ft. in front of our bumper. Deb was up fishing at 4 and 5AM several days in a row. As a side trip we ran over to Mustang Island and took the ferry to the legendary Port Aransas. Just beautiful!

Since our stay in Corpus Christi we moved on to Port Isabel, Texas for a few days. Port Isabel and nearby South Padre Beach were also beautiful.

Now we are in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas, about 60 miles inland and down on the Mexico border. We'll be here for about a month.

In the meantime we have been exploring the Mexican border areas at a furious pace and deciding where to go and what to do next. Budget willing, of course.

We ran over to the modern-day Playa Bagdad, an area that I have wanted to explore for years. Historically the last Confederate port open during the Civil War, the Bagdad of old was perhaps 7 miles from the Playa Bagdad of today due to the shifting sands of the Rio Bravo River. We discovered a delightful fishing village built right on the ocean, along with a small tourist village. If there was ever a good place for a gringo to go and hide and to get away from it all then the Playa Bagdad is the place to go.

Near McAllen, Texas we found the perfect RV park, right on the Rio Bravo River. You could literally look across the river and into Mexico. The border patrol was in attendance, and so were numerous fishermen from the RV park. I'm not sure what the bag limit was, but I suspect that you had to throw back anything under 95 lbs.

Alas, the perfect RV park was next to a flood wall that was under construction, and we didn't think that it was prudent to try and get a 40 ft. motorhome over that steep embankment with a tight turn and a sheer dropoff.

So we checked into another, very nice RV park that caters to "Winter Texans," i.e. the generally-retired snowbirds that flock to Texas as the weather gets cold. We may be a bit younger than most of the folks here but we are having a great time!

We have also made several trips up and down the border around Reynosa. We've checked out a couple of points that we could see from the USA side and which just scream "future development!" all over them.

The only real fly in the ointment is that our rear air conditioner finally went caput. Long-time readers of this blog may recall that we replaced the front "basement" A/C unit with an overhead unit in the Spring while we were still in Florida, and we were considering installing a similar rear unit. The rear A/C unit was getting weak when we were doing disaster relief work. We actually scheduled an appointment weeks in advance to do the replacement with an RV dealer in Houston. Alas, the rear basement unit stopped completely a number of days ago. I had a replacement overhead unit shipped in, and the next day a roving RV maintenance guy and I removed the overhead vent and put the A/C unit into the existing spot (I had wanted to cut another hole in the roof but after we started it became obvious that we'd have to cut through a major structural beam and that put the kabosh on that plan). Mercifully the temps have been cool so we haven't really missed the defunct A/C unit.

What does the future hold? Well ... I am organizing a small group to go and (don't laugh too hard here) check out a supposed UFO crash site in Mexico, not too far from el Paso. We'll likely move the motorhome to Del Rio, Texas so that Deb can hit the casino there for a few days while I explore in rural Mexico.

Wish me luck, and if you don't hear from me again then let's just hope that those alien abductions are merciful.

Could the next Margaritaville be a ghost town?

2008-11-04T13:26:00.005-05:00

Indianola, Texas in its prime:

And what is left of Indianola, Texas today:

Often called the Queen of Texas Ghost Towns, little remains of the port of Indianola other than that marker, the town cistern in the background, and what is left of the town grave yard on the other side of that marsh.

What happened to a major Texas city which at one time was rivaled only by Galveston?

The short answer is two hurricanes and disease, all of which wiped out the settlers in what was once Texas' second largest port, and which had luxury motels and was quite the place to be. The grand mansions of Old Indianola were either torn down or moved to nearby towns. And the foundations of the original municipal buildings are now underwater.

Founded in 1846 by German immigrants, Indianola was twice occupied by Union troops during the Civil War.

In 1869 the first shipment of mechanically refrigerated beef left Indianola aboard a ship bound for New Orleans, pioneering the technologies of both beef processing and commercial refrigeration.

The census of 1875 revealed that Indianola had a population of 5,000. In September of the same year a hurricane struck, almost completely destroying the town and killing between 150 and 300. An epidemic soon followed.

Indianola rebuilt. and in 1886 another crippling hurricane struck. Rather than rebuild Indianola the county seat moved to Port Lavaca.

What does remain is a charming, somewhat remote fishing village. Fifteen miles out of Port Lavaca, you'd better make sure that you have enough gasoline to get out there and back because the only service station in the area is up for sale.

For that matter, the only place currently selling beer (by the can) and serving food (on paper plates) is the local bait shop at the end of the road. So if they aren't open, or you don't like the beer selection, then you had better stock up in Port Lavaca and bring it with you.

This is fishin' and RV country. We had a great time hanging out at the bait store (the store closes around 10PM but they invite folks to fish on their deck as late as folks want to).

We found an excellent, small RV campground ...

With an excellent view of the beach and Matagorda Bay:

The owner of the RV campground pointed out that many, many snowbirds came down and camp right on the beach:

So this entire area is very laid back. Very. Laid. Back.

If you have an RV, or can rent one of the cabins along the coast, Indianola is very reminiscent of what Key West and the Florida Keys would have been like before the mass of tourists showed up. Just don't expect to find any chain motels out here.

And should Indianola not be your cup of fish chowder, consider wandering over to the nearby town of Port O'Connor. A bit bigger than Indianola and a bit more upscale, Port O'Connor is also on Matagorda Bay (although the "other side") and actually claims a service station, a couple of restaurants, and a bar or two. No overnight camping on the beach, but once again the fishin' promises to be excellent:

Angleton, Texas and the local beachfront

2008-10-27T10:07:00.015-04:00

Deb and I have spent the majority of our assignment camped out at a KOA (Kampgrounds of America) on the northern side of Houston. The folks there were nice enough, and after all it was an emergency (we moved in before the power was restored) but the place just didn't give us the warm fuzzies.

For one thing, the KOA campground flooded easily:

For another thing, it was expensive for what I'd consider to be a B- place. We were charged full price for the days when there was no electricity and we had to run our own generator, and that hurt.

So we packed up, ran up to the Flying J truckstop off of I-45 where we took on 100 gallons of fuel (at $3.37/gallon, which is a far cry from the almost $5/gallon fuel that we were seeing earlier this year in Florida), and set sail for an RV park that we had spotted a few days earlier near the small town of Angleton, Texas.

Now this is the life - we are right on a bayou and have been getting up at sunup and fishin' for the last few days:

This campground seemed like a nice, safe location to let the cats out so they've been given the opportunity to roam a bit:

Here's Coyote hangin' with the resident RV park tomcat. Obviously none of them are too traumatized:

We will be keeping a wary eye on the cats in the future, however. I spotted this guy within a few hundred feet of where we have been fishin' :

That's a 'gator friends. The RV park management assured me that the 'gators 'round here were all hibernating but I guess that this guy lost his calender during Hurricane Ike. He's not a real big one, but he's about 5 ft. long, and that's big enough to ruin a housecat's day.

Angleton is a small town not too far removed from Houston so once we return from Mexico we'll come back here and hang out while we look for jobs. The RV park is about 10 miles out of town and almost 5 miles from the nearest biker bar so it's well out in the boondocks.

There are some really interesting seaside towns near here. Surfside Beach is actually large enough to support two small bars/grills, both of which are just reopening following Ike's departure. Freeport is a fair-sized town on the mainland that has an unincorporated portion on the eastern side of the Intracoastal Waterway. No bars and no stores on that side of Freeport without crossing back to the mainland as far as I could see.

In between the two towns is a massive chemical plant and a ship channel. There is no bridge directly connecting the two towns - you need to drive back to the mainland and then recross the Intracoastal to get from Surfside Beach to the coastal community of Freeport, for instance.

Here's the coastal portion of Freeport which, by and large, showed little damage from Ike:

Talk about a bridge to nowhere! Quite a massive structure considering that there is little more than a few dozen houses, a small state park, and a marina on the oceanfront side of Freeport. Some politician must have a house over there:

Surfside Beach seems to be a bit more blue collar. They have a couple of RV and tent campgrounds (full of construction folks at the moment). By and large the houses there look like they took a harder hit from Hurricane Ike. Even among the standing houses you can tell that large portions of roof are gone and the interiors have been ruined.

At least the two bars/grills on Surfside are coming back to life. We were among the first to have a drink at this place as they were unloading the booze (first rule of hurricane evacuation when you own a bar - save the hard likker!)

One thing that I really like about this area is that you can get seriously up close and personal to the ships coming through the channel. There is a small park in Surfside and the locals were all out on the breakwater fishing as the ships passed. Notice the two guys wading in the shallows as the ship passes - can we say "bow wave" guys?:

The Angleton/Surfside area of Texas is pretty entertaining and I have heard from others that it's popular motorcycling territory, so we'll be looking forward to exploring there a bit more when we get back.

Brazoria County, TX

2008-10-26T15:28:00.015-04:00

I have wanted to explore the coastal towns and beaches of Texas for several years. Now that Deb and I are in Texas, and our disaster relief commitments in Houston have wound down, 'tis the time it would appear.

We drove into Galveston on Wednesday, October 22nd, a bit over 5 weeks after Hurricane Ike had made landfall.

Let's just say that the boats that were lining the causeway as you come into Galveston are finally being removed.

Eerie.

There's going to be plenty of cleanup and reconstruction in Galveston for years to come.

When we were in Galveston the last time (a few weeks ago) we headed north to the ferry to Ft. Bolivar. At that time the ferry was closed to the general public and it still is. Bodies are reportedly being found, buried under the rubble of the Bolivar Peninsula, almost daily. Residents can now go to Bolivar (until recently it was just the authorities) although tourists and looky lous are being kept out. The curfew was until 2PM; I hear it's been extended to 6PM.

Yeah, things sound grim over on the Bolivar Peninsula.

This time instead of heading north we headed south and drove along the beach strand and the famous Galveston Seawall.

Residences along the highway in southern Galveston were severely damaged. The Red Cross still has a feeding center near the end of the island, and FEMA has an RV with a satellite antenna for communications. Few businesses were open. Debris were piled up (notice the side of the road-you see mile upon mile of stacks of debris).

We then crossed the toll bridge (which was untended and not collecting tolls) at the end of Galveston Island and where you cross over into Brazoria County. Immediately we came to a sign that said that the road was closed. Being the shy types that we are we pushed on.

That roughly 25 mile stretch of coastal road running to the little town of Surfside Beach is pretty much gone for a significant portion of it's existence. There are sections ranging from a lane to a few hundreds of yards that are missing, but at one point the highway vanished completely and we were routed out onto the beach itself. Construction trucks are also using the beach strand as a makeshift highway so things get entertaining when you are on what is essentially one lane of packed sand and meeting a Mack dump truck.

This took up an entire lane. Trust me, you don't want to be driving out here at night:

Notice that the road ends completely and that traffic, such as it is, is being routed to the right. This was fairly intense - we followed a family in a Jeep that decided to turn around, but the local construction guys in their pickups just plowed on.

Finally, the road just ran out and we drove for maybe 5 miles on the beach. Notice the heavy traffic.

Yeah, right.

Also notice how desolate this area is, the trash piled up, and the few standing houses in the background:

Alas, things weren't all fun and games. We did witness one poor schmuck getting his car pulled out with a bulldozer. I hear that once you've turned your Toyota into a salt water submarine then they are never the same:

Enough of the road, which will have to be rebuilt. Take a look at the houses. Notice the lean on this first one, and no, the photographer was neither drunk nor standing with one foot in a hole when the photo was shot:

Here's another one that just don't look quite right:

And this one, which is now accessible primarily by boat:

As bad as those examples are, they are rebuildable. We ran across the following in the otherwise charming seaside village of Surfside Beach, Texas. Notice the pile of rubble where a house once stood:

And finally, this is sad. No amount of polish is going to buff out the damage to this family's home.

Let's keep the good people of coastal Texas in our thoughts.

Finally catching our breath a bit

2008-10-22T12:41:00.010-04:00

Gotta dig those sky-high flyovers! This is where the Sam Houston Tollway meets the Rt. 59 Highway over in Sugar Land, Texas, a part of Greater Houston.

Things are finally winding down here in Houston. We haven't been officially "released" yet although neither one of us has had any new inspections for several days. We talked to the "Gods of Production" this morning and they said that most inspectors had been sent home but they are keeping us on reserve to see if there are any final inspections that need to be done.

The campground that we have been staying at has been full of construction workers and insurance adjusters until lately. Now they too are winding down. Note the ladders and the pickup trucks:

All in all this has been quite a hectic but satisfying time for both Deb and myself. And I'm very proud of Deb. She worked very hard. For that matter, ol' John worked pretty hard. I'd say that the pace and goals of what we were doing suits both of us very well.

We have been working as subcontractors (a hint: pretty much all disaster relief work is contracted out these days) doing inspections for a particular FEMA-funded program. We weren't quite the first responders but we were pretty close, and an army of inspectors swarmed through coastal Texas immediately following Ike's landfall trying to resolve claims and keep folks restored to pre-disaster conditions as quickly as possible. The days were long and the workload intense, but I will have to say that all of the folks that I met were enthusiastic to the end and the community was happy to see us jump in there and try to help.

Greater Houston itself has turned out to be very interesting. Highly industrial and very densely populated, Houston is more of a melting pot than I expected. In addition to the obvious Hispanic community, Houston has a sizable Greek contingency, a large Chinese community and and other Asian populations. The stereotype of Houston being dominated by rightwing old white folks wearing cowboy boots is tempered somewhat by reality. I'm looking forward to exploring the coastal areas because I suspect that there is plenty of scope for folks wearing deck shoes to mingle with those folks wearing their boots.

The highway systems here in Houston are very impressive in the volumes of traffic they move every day. Houston has not one but multiple beltways running around the perimeter of the city, and where highways intersect you can always find a complicated set of flyover ramps that are breathtakingly tall. Tall enough that one begins to wish for a full set of flight controls in their auto. Tall enough that airliners approaching Bush International fly below the highway. OK ... not literally that high but you get the picture. Impressive stuff!

Barring anything unforeseen Deb and I plan to settle down in Houston for a few years. Except to move our property out of Jacksonville, and assuming that there isn't a hurricane in Florida that takes us back to the state next year, I don't anticipate that we'll be back in Florida any time soon.

In the short run we have been staying at a KOA (Kampgrounds of America) on the northern side of Houston for the last several weeks. By the time you read this we will likely be on the road. We are going to meander down the highway a bit and to the southern side of Houston for a few days of fishin' and writin' and just generally kicking back and exploring the Texas coastline. We expect to be down along the Mexican border in a few days to a week. Deb and I drove along the coast south of Galveston yesterday, along a stretch where the road was officially closed for miles and miles, and I'll post those photos in another post. Very dramatic stuff down there.

~~~

I guess that when we get back from Mexico I'll have to consider the unthinkable again - getting a job. She Who Must Be Obey'd saw a newer motorhome that she really wants, and while we are unlikely to get the very same one that she saw at the dealership I wouldn't be too surprised if a new (to us) Newell is in the future somewhere. Long popular with the race car crowd because of the power and superior handling compared to most buses and RVs, I am rapidly beginning to appreciate the qualities of a Newell. Whereas our Bluebird is built of steel, the Newell is built of aircraft-quality aluminum. As a consequence the Newells are much stronger than the fiberglass motorhomes that you see regularly and while a Newell isn't as strong as a Bluebird they typically are much lighter. Lighter equals better fuel mileage and better handling. Comparing a Bluebird to a Newell is about like comparing a well-built sedan to a sports car. Both are at the top of the market among RVs.

Only time will tell.

Deb's dream future motorhome:

I am also beginning to realize that whether we will be buying cheap diesel fuel in Mexico for the Bluebird (which has 300 gallon diesel tanks) or getting significantly better mileage with a newer motorhome that we are likely to have an opportunity to travel more if we base ourselves in Houston. Last summer diesel in Florida was almost $5/gallon. Diesel fuel is relatively cheap in Texas, and even cheaper in Mexico, where it's hovered around $2.27/gallon for years. When you are getting 5 mpg (40 ft. Bluebird with a 6V92 Detroit Diesel) or closer to 7 mpg (40 ft. Newell or 35 ft. single-axle Bluebird) the reduction in cost is dramatic.

~~~

A number of folks have asked about the Humourlist, my long-running joke list. I suspended it when we were activated for disaster relief, and plan to resume the Humourlist once we get back from Mexico. So stay tuned.

I might add that as much as I am a creature of being online, and correspond on a zillion forums out there, that it's weirdly refreshing to be so busy that you don't even fire up the 'puter for 3-4 days.

~~~

$400. And three separate trips to the dealer to purchase it and to have it programmed. That's the cost of replacing the electronic key fob on the Land Rover (notice that the buttons have fallen out of the old key).

Ouch!

I really like Rover products but there are times when one has to scratch one's head at these things.

My understanding is that the Rover Freelander small SUV's are partial to engine problems, and that it's almost impossible to get parts for them since the engine was originally sourced from the Rover cars side of the business, and when Rover cars collapsed the tooling went to China. Now that Rover trucks has been purchased by an Indian company (Tata) that doesn't 'zactly reassure me.

Did you know that you can order a Porsche Cayenne with skid plates protecting the undersides? And with all the fancy suspension and electronic differential bits reprogrammed for more extensive off-road use? Hmmm ...

Having owned three Porsches thus far in my lifetime it's funny to look back and think that a Porsche might be an option to another manufacturer's products on the theory that the Porsche might be less expensive and more reliable to operate.

Back in the days WIHM (when I had money) ol' John simultaneously owned a Porsche Carrera, an S-Class Mercedes sedan, and a Range Rover. The Rover was my favorite driver, even if maintenance and fuel mileage (10 mpg back then) was a bitch. Tall and boxy, with lots of glass area, Range Rovers are surprisingly maneuverable and can get in and out of places that would make the drivers of a lot of 4x4 trucks feel faint.

My Discovery II ("Disco Two") is the logical working-class successor to the Range Rover of yore. The Disco held up well and was super handy while we were doing housing inspections. Yesterday's trip down the coast involved quite a bit of driving along beach sand and in areas where the road had washed away and, once again, the faithful Jaguar-engined Rover did well.

But $400 for a replacement key? Give me a break!

Hurry up ... and wait!

2008-10-05T10:58:00.009-04:00

Typical Galveston, Texas street.

As you drive across the causeway into Galveston there are boats everywhere. The ones washed against the highway dividers have been bulldozed into place and left there for the time being.

Our work doing registrations started to wind down about 6 days ago and we have been planning to switch over to doing housing inspections. But where oh where would we go?

We asked to stay in Texas, preferably the Houston area.

We asked for work in the Galveston area (Galveston County actually, which is a fair chunk of territory), so we ran down into Galveston for a day to assess the situation and to try to find a place to park our motor home. That turned out to be a relatively fruitless journey.

Then we were assigned to a group out of Winnie, Texas, which is about 60 miles east of Houston. Logically, we thought that we were headed to Winnie.

So when our assignments actually started to come in they were in ... drum roll please ... a part of Houston that's maybe 15 minutes from where we have been parked since we first arrived. Which works well, because lodging and RV space is tight everywhere else around here.

In Galveston the best that we could find was to park in something like a Wal-Mart lot.

And in Winnie they are simply booked up with the usual retirees migrating back here in the Fall and the added influx of rescue workers that need a place to stay. In either area about the best that I could find would have involved running our generator for long periods of time because electrical service wasn't available, and rationing our water and holding tank capacities.

Galveston looks grim, frankly. The first thing that you see when you cross the causeway are boats. Boats everywhere. Boats stacked against the median dividing the lanes of the divided highway. Boats out of water. People's pride and joy broken up and damaged beyond reasonable repair. Very sad.

We drove around on the seawall side of Galveston and the northern parts of Galveston - in other words, the parts of the island that didn't get hit the hardest. There were few businesses open, little in the way of power, and it's obvious that the water level was high, high, high during the hurricane. Remember, this was about 3 weeks after Hurricane Ike came through, and Galveston had been opened for residents to return for about a week.

So there's plenty of damage here folks. Keep the good people of Louisiana and Texas (and Illinois and Indiana now that the rains from Ike have caused parts of those states to be declared disaster areas due to flooding) in your thoughts.

We started our inspections a couple of days ago. When folks with holes in their roofs and who haven't had power for weeks tell us that they are blessed because they didn't get hit as hard as the folks elsewhere, it kinda puts a lot of silly squabbling into perspective.

Smith Point, Texas

2008-09-30T13:40:00.004-04:00

We have now concluded our first assignments and are preparing for our next assignments. There is recruiting among the housing inspectors to head to Illinois immediately to work the floods up there but we'll pass on that. We have requested that we stay in the Houston/Galveston area but have been told that we might wind up back in Louisiana, at least for a little while. We had planned a Mexican trip for this Fall and obviously don't want to get too far away from this area. Only time will tell where we wind up I suppose.

We were briefly assigned to the town of Smith Point, Texas a few days ago. Smith Point is out on the end of a peninsula that juts into Galveston Bay. The Texas State Police were keeping sightseers out and the first residents were just beginning to return. We were at the local volunteer fire department and a generator had been supplying power until a few hours after we arrived. Waters had swept over most of the peninsula during Ike. Animals were disturbed - there was an alligator living underneath the culvert to the fire station and we saw a fawn, looking confused, standing beside the road only a few hundred yards from the center of "town." We were told that the only industry in Smith Point had been two seafood processing plants and that one was destroyed in the storm so the future of Smith Point could be a bit rocky.

Trashed fishing boats:

Aren't you glad that you weren't in the portable loo when it got hit with this tree branch?

Interesting and clever portable SATCOM antenna. The entire system breaks down into 2-3 of those Pelican cases that you see on the ground yet can bring in Internet and VOIP phone, as long as there is power. I can see how something like this could be more readily deployable than some of the larger systems that were being used in areas where communications was poor. We could have used a system like this in the southern parishes of Louisiana.

We kept seeing refrigerators scattered throughout the fields as we drove to Smith Point, and at the time we were miles and miles inland. It was explained to me that most of the area was about 5 feet underwater when the storm surge came in, and that refrigerators and water heaters float. Further, that these appliances weren't from Smith Point, but had actually been blown across Galveston Bay and belonged to buildings in Galveston and Port Bolivar. Yikes!

Here's a fair-sized sailboat, I'd say about a 30 footer, sitting in a farmer's field. Once again, this is miles away from the water.

Another of the casualties of the hurricane. This Siamese kitten was found floating on a wooden board and was staying in the shelter at the fire station. Here's to hoping that Ike (The Kitten) found a good home. He (or she, there was some uncertainty there) was as cute as the proverbial button, and had tons of energy. Did I mention energy?

What had been nice waterfront property was completely trashed. I believe this was a campground of some sort - it might have been an RV park because there was one nearby but we were unable to find it. There were plenty of concrete pads suitable for RVs or mobile homes - just no buildings to be found on those pads.

As we left Smith Point the Red Cross had a long line of folks that they were feeding. That was perhaps 12 days after Ike had hit. Isolated, with no food and no power - keep it in mind the next time that you have troubles. We certainly will.

The Glamorous World of the Disaster Relief Worker

2008-09-25T15:15:00.002-04:00

Yup. Media attention. Dining with celebrities at the best places. You know – the fun stuff.

NOT!

To update our tales a bit, Deb and I dashed from Jacksonville, FL to New Orleans, LA in order to work Hurricane Gustav. Upon our arrival in Louisiana we were immediately shanghaied for an assignment other than what we trained for during the last year or so.

Rather than doing housing inspections – which is what we had expected to do – we’ve been registering folks for FEMA assistance. A job’s a job and one has to go where there is a need, right?

Deb got immediately sent to a Red Cross shelter in one of the southernmost and hardest hit areas of Louisiana. She wound up spending the first night sleeping in her car.

I got sent to another Red Cross shelter, which meant that I got to crawl back to the RV and at least got to sleep in my own bed at night.

The next day I managed to swap assignments and took some clothing down to Deb. She and I would continue to work together in that Red Cross shelter, commuting to and from New Orleans, until the end of the week when high winds and rising waters from Hurricane Ike drove us out.
With “intake” work in Louisiana at an end we turned in our registration computers and picked up inspectors’ touch screen tablet computers. We were ready to rock and roll! Oh, and there was a show of hands to see who was foolish enough to volunteer to go to Texas if there was a need. Deb and I both volunteered. Big deal, we thought.

The next morning we were told to stand by to go to Texas.

And to stand by.

And to stand by some more.

The second day we were told that we should expect an official announcement in “about” 30 minutes.

Finally, a number of hours later, we were excitedly given the word to head to Texas ASAP and the new command center in Sugarland, TX. The team manager made that call from the road – he was already in transit. Of course, by then it was almost dark and there didn’t seem like a lot of sense in leaving New Orleans in the middle of the night in a motor home.

So we loaded the Land Rover on the trailer and got everything ready for an early AM departure. Deb and a friend drove their cars to Texas in a mini-caravan, leaving at 4AM. Yours Truly left at sunup and headed west.

Let me tell you that driving a motor home/bus is a lot slower and a lot more tiring than driving an auto. Particularly through Louisiana, where the roads are notoriously bad, and the traffic into Houston was very heavy as folks were returning from an evacuation due to Hurricane Ike.
Deb drove to the Houston center and picked up our new registration computers. Not one computer this time, but a pair for each of us.

And she got our assignments, which were to go to Austin, TX immediately.

Houston in general and eastern Texas in particular looked pretty hard hit from Hurricane Ike. Truckers were saying on the radio that it was wise to fuel up in Louisiana. There were few restaurants or other services open on I-10 and the few places that were open were very crowded.

I drove on through Houston and met up with Deb in a small Texas town in the boondocks somewhere off of the Interstate . The town consisted of a bar-b-que restaurant, two small truck stops, and I managed to get the satellite antenna set up. Ye-hah!

A few hours of sleep and we were back on the road. Deb ran into Austin and went around to several Red Cross shelters to see if there was a need for our services, and ol’ John found an RV park nearby, unloaded the Land Rover, and tracked Deb down.

We settled in a shelter in Austin but advised our management that buses were already taking the affected back to Houston, and that we were likely needed elsewhere. So on the second day, at around 1PM, the word came down. And you guessed it: load up and head to Houston.
So it was back on the road and head to a KOA (Kampgrounds of America) in Houston that had neither electrical power nor running water. We pulled in well after dark.

When we signed up for this work we agreed to commit to a 10 hours a day, 7 days a week, for 3 weeks schedule. The day that we left Austin for Houston ol’ John logged a 14 hour workday.
Since then we have been staying on the northern side of Houston and commuting to an airbase on the southern side of town every day. We expect this to continue for another day or two. The power came back on at the campground a few days ago (until then we were running our generator at night). The frickin’ mosquitoes at the park at night are unreal. We are literally the first to arrive in the morning and among the last to leave in the evening, and are logging 13.5 hour days, including our commuting times.

We’ve experienced unreal bugs (trust me, the Louisiana black flies would have eaten those Texas mosquitoes for lunch), torrential rain, dust, heat, cold (“Can’t anyone turn down the f’ing air conditioning?”), lack of sleep, lousy food (try eating shelter MRE’s, or meals-ready-to-eat, for a few days in a row), high winds, REALLY scary tall bridges, high winds combined with scary tall bridges, run out of smokes, run out of money (there were some payroll screw-up’s – thankfully generally resolved this morning), come down with summer colds (I always seem to be among the first to catch colds but on this assignment EVERYONE on our team came down with a cold), and met our share of humanity that were getting on our nerves.

At the same time we have experienced some of the best of humanity under some really trying circumstances. We have been hanging with folks from Louisiana and Texas who have lost their homes or who could not return to their homes because of mandatory evacuations, and by and large there is a certain dignity that I wish that I saw more of elsewhere. Like online, but that’s beside the point.

And despite some of the moaning and bitchin’ I see a lot of folks, from FEMA and from other organizations, doing their best to bring help to people as quickly as possible. Yes, there are shortages and yes, there were some miscalculations. But everyone in the field is working long hours to bring as much help to as many people as possible. Prima donnas are few and far between.

All in all, this has been a great experience. While Ike and Gustav have broken a lot of hearts, it’s great to see good people pulling together to get back on their feet.

And those celebrities and good meals?

So far the politicians haven’t shown up although there have been rumors.

And the media is banned from the shelters for privacy reasons. So other than a reporter or two in the parking lot, we see them but NEVER talk to them.

And fine dining? Deb and I make a habit of eating well each night if possible. After all, hitting the restaurants is about the only break that we get. In New Orleans we were fortunate enough to be able to have some great meals in the French Quarter. But trust me; if you’ve been eating the infamous shelter MRE’s on a regular basis then you begin to have renewed sympathy for anyone stuck in a disaster relief shelter. As a little lady in Louisiana whispered to me in warning about the MREs, “Don’t touch the chewing gum – that’s a laxative.” That pretty well sums up the ups and downs of disaster relief work – at least the food is free, even if the contents are a bit of a mystery.

Gustav, and now Hurricane Ike

2008-09-13T10:24:00.001-04:00

Greetings y'all!

Man ... things change faster than I can write this blog and get it out! This is my third re-write.

We just got the word to pack up, cease our relief efforts for Hurricane Gustav, head home, and then prepare to get redeployed to Texas to work Hurricane Ike. Being as how we are from Jacksonville, FL and would basically have to pass back through New Orleans to get out to Texas, we are going to stay put for at least a few days and see what happens. (As a postscript, Deb just got the call. We should be on the road to Texas on Monday morning, but as of now we don't know where).

Deb and I arrived in New Orleans on Friday. When we arrived in New Orleans the first residents were just being allowed to return and most of the city was without power.

Since then we have been working out of Red Cross evacuation shelters in LaFourche Parish , Louisiana, registering folks for FEMA assistance and making referrals to other agencies. Heat, flies, long hours, lack of power, really slow Internet connections ... the National Guard is in charge of these towns and there is a curfew after dark. You know ... the usual disaster relief things.

We have been among folks that have lost their homes and, in many cases, have emergency medical needs that require assistance. Yet I was seeing a certain dignity that, how can I say this ... I don't see on the Internet or in the outside world lately. When you are with people who are philosophical about not having a home any more that puts things into perspective.

We were seeing more damage from Gustav than perhaps we would have expected and were getting plenty of claims.

We have had the Wanderlodge parked at a really nice, hidden away RV park only 2 blocks from the French Quarter for the last several days. The only problem with that scenario is that we've been doing a 60 mile daily commute into the heart of LaFourche Parish for the last week and other than having some WONDERFUL dinners we really haven't had an opportunity to sight see and party much in New Orleans.

Perhaps now we will have at least a few days off and then we can get caught up.

We've been working between 10 and 14 hour days since we got here. Like many of these things, Deb and I trained for over a year for one speciality and got sent into the field to do something completely different. Deb spent one night sleeping in her car because of the conditions. So it hasn't been all fun and games.

I am keeping a more detailed log but don't expect to publish that until our commitment is over with, which could be several more months. Or we could get sent home tomorrow - we are at the mercy of several companies that divide up this work with FEMA. The name of the game is to get in, get the work done, and then get out. Flexibility is the key.

Southern Louisiana is charming, and Deb and I vowed to return once they get back on their feet. We spent most of our time in the little town of LaRose, near Cut Off, Louisiana, and these towns are built along a canal. You've got ship building and commercial fishin', lots of Cajun folks that still speak with a strong French dialect, Vietnamese that settled in following the Viet Nam War, and quite a few Spanish-speaking folks from Mexico. So I figure that Deb (who was born in Tennessee) and myself (who was born in Kentucky) would fit in well - no one speaks standard English down there.

Seriously, we heard that, a bit further south from where we were, there were plenty of RV'ers hanging at fish camps and fishin' and that sounds like a ton of fun.

As I write this we've had high winds in New Orleans and high winds and rising waters in Southern Louisiana, but nothing like what they had in Texas when Ike went ashore last night.

Our satellite TV antenna got blown over and we are just now getting the Weather Channel on our now kidney bean shaped antenna but it looks like Galveston and Houston got hit pretty hard. So I expect that we will be in New Orleans for another day or two before we head to Texas.

Time to clean up and do the laundry!

Westbound and down, and adios for now!

2008-09-04T12:05:00.003-04:00

Jerry Reed died this week. Younger folks don't remember him except as the actor who played the nasty opposing coach in the Adam Sandler flick "The Waterboy." Us middle-aged folks remember Reed as The Snowman, a/k/a Cletus Snow from the Smokey and the Bandit flicks. Reed was, in fact, a revolutionary country western musician who had a tremendously positive viewpoint on life. He once commented that, as the son of cotton mill workers, he had done everything in life that he had ever wanted to do. He had been to Hollywood and he had seen his name on records - what more was there to want?

Jerry commented that for the first 50 years of his life he was a taker. For the last 20 years of his life he spent his time giving back as he explored his religious beliefs.

RIP Jerry. You will be missed.

~~~

Short and quick post here. Jerry Reed sang and co-wrote the theme to Smokey and the Bandit, a tune called Eastbound and Down. Well, we just got our marching orders as FEMA contractors so we are packing up and getting ready to head westward in order to help out with the aftermath of Gustav. Looks like we are going to be somewhere in Louisiana or Mississippi.

Peace, and the ol' Pirate will be back in touch when he can. At this time I have no idea if we'll be deployed for a week or two, or a month or two, or if I'll have the time to write.

So take care!

Fay was no lady

2008-08-25T11:05:00.003-04:00

Jacksonville got hit fairly hard by Tropical Storm Fay, but arguably not as hard as some of the more southern portions of Florida. We had high winds - but never at hurricane strength - and local flooding. A few roofs got blown away and for a time roughly 80,000 households in Jacksonville were without power.

But as a tropical storm that threatened to become a hurricane yet which never quite lived up to her potential, Fay was a bit of a pleasant disappointment.

Deb and I had planned to move the Mighty Bluebird out of our workshop because we have large overhanging trees here. Trees are a good thing in the summer as they keep the temperatures down but a really, really bad thing when they threaten to come crashing down and to crush buildings and vehicles. We had actually - no kidding - planned to move to a friend's bar because the bar has a large, open parking lot and hey ... if the power went out we had a deal to run our generator and to swap diesel-generated electricity for beer. That's the capitalistic system at its best, in my book! As things transpired the winds from Fay never got high enough to warrant moving, so we stayed put.

Interestingly, our local county government, in their infinite wisdom, closed two of the largest and most heavily traveled bridges in this area for about 2 days, when winds got to be over 40mph. We could have still gotten out of town because there are perhaps seven local bridges that cross the St. John's River, but the prospect of being trapped if the storm had intensified wasn't an attractive idea at all. I guess the moral of the story is to plan ahead and not to wait until the last minute to leave. This area has been spared from major hurricane damage for about the last 40 years and I fear that folks are getting complacent.

Crazy Fay wandered around the state of Florida like a bag lady looking for her long lost drinking buddies. She crossed the Florida Keys and was at one point was expected to stay out into the Gulf of Mexico for most of her life. Then she stalled and came ashore around Cape Coral, and took her time crossing the state. Regaining her strength over land - something that you seldom see hurricanes do - Fay drifted slowly out into the Atlantic. Then she decided to wander up the coast and to come back ashore somewhere slightly south of us! Egads!

As I write this the remnants of Fay are up into Georgia or Tennessee or Kentucky somewhere, bringing much-needed rain to an area that has been hit by a drought.

It was fun Fay. Now don't let the door hit you on the way out, Old Girl.

Here's downtown Jacksonville, so you can see that someone had some serious water. I heard that the local cops were doing patrols with an airboat in some areas near the river:

Here's a view out of the front window of the Wanderlodge during some of the rain:

We were driving over to the Broken Spoke (neighborhood bar) and the cops were blocking Cesery, which is a fairly major road in these parts. Never mind that the traffic lights were out, there was a power line down across Cesery, blocking traffic.

A new addition to the family, and that pesky Fay

2008-08-13T13:59:00.011-04:00

I want to thank y'all who have expressed concern since we have this hurricane/near hurricane headed our way. I will have to say that Tropical Storm Fay has turned out to be one of the screwier storms that I've ever tracked - it was originally likely to head west of us, then right over us, and now it's expected to enter the Atlantic Ocean slightly south of us and then to return to dry land slightly north of us. Sheesh!

We are fueled up and ready to go on short notice but my suspicions are that we'll just move the motorhome over to a friend's bar just a few blocks away. That way we can get out from under some very large oak trees that are on our workshop property. The upside is that if the power goes out at the bar during their hurricane party then we can trade diesel-generated electricity for beer. Slick, no?

On one of my Bluebird motorhome mailing lists there is a couple who rode out a direct hit of a Cat. 3 hurricane while in a Bluebird Wanderlodge very similar to ours. They said that they wouldn't intentionally do it again, but a solid steel 23 ton motorhome doesn't get blown over, which is reassuring if worst comes to worst. They said it did leak in some interesting places, but that's beside the point.

Further complicating matters are that we are on call as FEMA subcontractors and have just started to talk to the Red Cross about rejoining as Disaster Volunteers, so we really don't want to be too far away (i.e. running to New Orleans for a week isn't in the cards) because we may get sent back into the disaster area on short notice.

~~~

I think that we have accidentally adopted a new addition. When I say "accidentally" the short version of this shaggy cat tale is that we had a stray on the property that the landlord equally-reluctantly claimed any ownership of. When Rich and his family went on vacation Deb and I got stuck with feeding the varmint.

Likewise when a charitable group was offering to spay and neuter the local stray cats Yours Truly took the wayward Siamese to the vet to get her "fixed" and we wound up taking care of the little PITA for several days.

Well, the final straw occurred when the landlord's daughter decided that she wanted to take the stray to live with her in a dormitory at FSU in Tallahassee. Rich and I both sorta thought that was a bad, bad idea and so the little Siamese has now been adopted and has become part of the brood inside the bus.

As I am typing this the little monster is in my lap and wanting to play.

Blue Eyes, the Siamese made her first journey with us last Sunday as we made our weekly cross-town trip and she seems to be adjusting well to the RV life. She has clearly adjusted well to sleeping in our bed, and you can practically find the little varmint there 24/7.

Oh, and for those of you that want to know about the nuts and bolts of keeping two (now three it would seem) cats in an RV without having the place smell like the Lion House at the local zoo, the first thing to keep in mind is "use the best cat litter available." It's not cheap, but the stuff works. That, and change it regularly.

As originally manufactured, there was an icemaker built into the cabinetry of the Bluebird opposite from the refrigerator. I removed that and we put a litter box into the space vacated by the icemaker, with a simple curtain rod and drape disguising the existence of the litter box. Out of sight, out of mind. It's worked well, although seeing the big gray cat trying to wipe his paws on the curtain from the inside is hilarious; it sorta looks like the litter box compartment has a ghost inside that is trying to get out.

We did replace our carpeted floor with what the building people call an "engineered" laminated wooden floor, and that also helps tremendously to keep the cat fuzz and such at bay. Vacuum it regularly and things are fine. The factory built-in vacuum wasn't up to the task and so that too was removed and replaced with a modern "turbo" vacuum designed for apartment dwellers with limited space.

Odors are a big issue with motorhomes and sailboats, and they seem to be one of the first things that come up for discussion every time we talk with fellow full-time RV'ers or liveaboard sailers. We really don't have any problems with odors at the present, and I chalk that up to a combination of repeatedly and methodically looking for mold and water leaks (EVERY motorhome or boat leaks, it's just a matter of degree), coupled with the design of the Bluebird and regularly putting some chemicals into the holding tanks.

Not only does the Bluebird have exceptionally large holding tank capacity, but it also separates the "gray water" (kitchen sink and shower) from the "black water" (that's the nasty stuff that goes down the toilet). It's perfectly legal to empty the gray water in a pinch, and while gray water is really nothing but soapy water around here that stuff can develop a really potent sulphuric smell if you don't empty the tanks regularly. Thankfully there are chemicals to treat the sulphur smell, and if you do need to empty the gray tank into the grass the odor vanishes in about 5 minutes. Hell, in this part of Florida ALL of the brackish streams smell worse than the discharge from a gray water tank, so it's not a big deal.

At our workshop we have installed special electrical hookups for our motorhome but we don't have the proper waste hookups, so we fire up the Wanderlodge weekly and head over to a nearby RV park to empty the holding tanks. Nothing damages a motorhome quite like sitting all the time, so bringing the engine up to operating temperature and taking a little drive across town weekly helps to insure that we can pack up and be gone at any time should an emergency (read: "hurricane") arise.

~~~

Sometimes you eat bear. Other times, the bear eats you. Lately it's been a real case of the dreaded Maintenance Blues.

Firstly, Deb and I were at the local Publix grocery doing our weekly shoplifting when we heard that call on the PA that no one wants to hear: "Will the owner of a green BMW please come to the office."

Some poor, clearly pregnant gal ran into the back of Deb's car. Thankfully the young lady did the right thing and didn't run off. Her friend whispered to me as the driver sobbed "She's a bit hormonal" and I responded "Ya think?"

I am not even going to mention that the pregnant young lady wasn't even pulling into the space next to Deb's car. She was pulling into a space 2 spaces away when she managed to hit Deb's BMW. Yikes!

Result: One creased fender, and BMW says that they are going to have to replace the taillights because those got bent in the accident. No, I'm not making this up. Total: $1,600. Thankfully the other gal's insurance appears to be paying for the damages.

Then we have the case of the never-ending motorhome maintenance.

Actually, the Bluebird has proven to be much more reliable than I anticipated - which is a scary thought - but simply the general nature of an RV is that you need to keep on top of the issues.

Deb and I both came down with summer colds and we have discovered that two people in the close but comfy quarters of a 40 ft. motorhome causes us to keep passing colds back and forth. So Deb took off to a house where we maintain a satellite office and stayed away for what turned out to be about 10 days after one of her clients came down with strep throat.

In the meantime I thought that I would take care of some motorhome mechanical problems that had been put off.

We have been plagued with low water pressure almost from the time that we bought the 'bird. Lately we had noticed that when we filled up the water tank that we had a leak somewhere. The water tank is underneath the bed so pulling all of that mess apart called for me to sleep on the couch for a few days (I might add that the couch is one of those foldout bed things and was surprisingly comfortable).

Many months ago Yours Truly had replaced an electrically operated valve in the water system with a more robust hand turned valve and I was expecting that the leak would be part of the connections to the valve. Nope, those connections held well.

But when I looked closely I realized that an old filter in the system was clogged up and consequently was blowing apart when the pressure built up.

Solution: Cut the hoses and bypass that filter (there is actually a second filter that assures drinking quality water). Now we are leak free and as a surprise bonus the water pressure is actually higher than expected assuming that there is some water in the tank and that you run the water pump when you shower. Neat!

Trust me, this is a lot more civilized than taking a shower with salt water on the deck of a sailboat.

We did, however, suffer the first of what I would think of as being a "serious" mechanical problem, considering that my definition of serious is one that keeps you from moving.

I was getting ready to make my run to empty the holding tanks and the blasted bus wouldn't start!

So picture this as a worst-case scenario. Deb's not around, so I had actually put off the weekly trip to empty the holding tanks, said holding tanks are full to the bursting point, and I cannot get the bus running. Arghhhhh!

A mobile truck mechanic who works on tour buses came out and decided that there was something wrong with the starter and starter solenoid. So he crawled under the back of the bus and pulled the unit out (about the biggest starter motor that you have ever seen, I might add) but being as how this was Sunday I had to wait until Monday AM to get the parts.

Monday rolls around and I take the assembly to the local Freightliner truck dealer and ... drum roll please ... the starter works just fine on the workbench.

So rather than replace both the starter and solenoid assembly we decide to replace just the solenoid. The only problem is that the solenoid by itself isn't in stock, so that part has to be ordered and it doesn't arrive until the next day.

I pick up the solenoid but my mechanic buddy can't get back out until about 6PM that evening (ironically I was right behind him in traffic at one point as he was making his way to another job site).

We got the bus started but then start to experienced all manner of weird electrical problems. The alternator isn't producing any current, and the battery chargers that run off of house current are shorting out.

So it's back under the bus to figure out which cable is hooked up incorrectly. Between the two of us we figured it out but there were plenty of sparks, swearing, and smoke to go around.

That was a long night. Once we got the Bluebird running I drove her over to the nearby RV park, emptied the holding tanks (Thank You Lord!), ran back to the workshop, showered for what seemed like the first time in several days, and then headed to a nearby pub for a well-deserved cold one. I got there just before Last Call at 1:30AM. Whew!

Cost of repairs: About $700.

Emptying the getting-close-to-being-ripe poo tank: Priceless.

~~~

Like I said, sometimes you eat bear, and sometimes the bear eats you.

Someone has gone around and installed what I think of as video slot machines at a number of the local bars. They come with a copy of a letter from the local High Sheriff stating that they aren't really gambling machines and are legal in the State of Florida, so who am I to complain?

Deb has to be about the luckiest gambler that I have ever seen. She won over $500 on the slot machines at a Mississippi casino last year. Earlier this year she won just under $600 on one of the video machines here in town.

Last night she hit the jackpot not once, but twice, at the same bar.

Now, if we could just get some of that luck transferred to the Lotto ... ;)

Why Pyrates aren't encouraged to attend the Olympics

2008-08-01T14:00:00.007-04:00

The bike is my now much-modified BMW K1100RS, which was brand spankin' new back in 1996. The official Atlanta Games sticker that is mentioned in the tale below is that white circle above the headlight. Directly below the Olympic sticker is a sticker for the US Cycling Federation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm enjoying watching the Beijing Olympic Games. From what I have seen the Chinese are taking the challenge 100% seriously and doing a great job. Despite the jokes about their Engrish not being really good (how good is your Mandarin? I know that mine sucks), barring disaster (knocking on wood) this promises to be one of the better Olympic Games.

ol' John is, as many of you know, an old bicycle racer. Before Yours Truly decided to get old and pudgy I held a Category 2 (second highest of five categories) license as an amateur bikie in the first year that I went from being a high school aged kid to being an over 18 year old cyclist. As a friend of mine once said, has beens are a dime a dozen, but it's better to be a has been than a never has been.

With that said, cycling and international bicycle racing has always held a special place in my heart.

In 1984 ol' John was able to obtain a complete pair of "season tickets" to all of the Los Angeles Olympics cycling events. Alas, I changed jobs, and the powers that be at Square D (at the time Lexington, Kentucky's 2nd largest employer) wouldn't allow me to take the time off. Being the Good Corporate Warrior that I was at the time, I conceded and sold my tickets. With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight that short gig at Square D turned out to be one of the dullest jobs that I ever worked whereas the LA Olympics were a stunning breakthrough for US cycling as several members of our cycling team medaled. Moral of the story for anyone faced with the choice between a job and doing something that you have your heart set on: corporate jobs are a dime a dozen. Not only was the job at Square D breathtakingly boring and many of the inmates there equally dull, but a few years later a French company bought the company and sent everyone that I had been working with packing.

In 20/20 hindsight I should have jumped ship and set sail for Los Angeles.

So now it's 1996, a dozen years have passed, and I was running my own truckin' business. The Olympics are in and around Atlanta, Georgia. I had a brand new, bright red, K1100RS BMW motorcycle and BMW was sponsoring much of the Olympics, as well as providing a fleet of motorcycles for various purposes. BMW sent me an invitation to a party in downtown Atlanta wherein they would have plenty of autos and bikes on display and I figured "Hey! Don't get much better than this."

I was all set to ride to the games and back. YES!

Well ... some of the games. To be fair I wanted to see the spectacle and experience the atmosphere, but what I really wanted to see was one event. The cycling time trial.

Now, every modern Olympics has bragged about their high level of security. Atlanta was no different. There wasn't any talk of getting Cooter and his huntin' dogs to guard the Atlanta Olympics. Nosiree. They were going high tech and looking out for troublesmakers and terrorists.

Imagine my surprise when I was in a BMW motorcycle dealership in North Carolina and saw what appeared to me to be the official and super-secret Olympics officials stickers plastered all over most of the motorcycles on the showroom floor. How could that be?

I talked to the sales manager and told her that, having worked as a motorcycle marshal for some cycling events that BMW provided bikes for (remember the Tour duPont?), that judging by the construction of the stickers that I was pretty sure that someone had sent her the official stickers by mistake. Very curious! And could I have a sticker or two?

She said that she thought that she had some extras at home. A few weeks later a package arrived at my house - a pair of Olympic motorcycle stickers. I was ready!

So I slapped a sticker on, fired up the red K-bike and headed across North Carolina, down into South Carolina (where I realized that I was riding right by BMW's shiny new-at-the-time Spartanburg assembly plant and museum and that certainly called for a visit), and on down into Georgia to Atlanta.

After a little checking around I was able to find a room at a hotel that was completely full of hard-drinking blue-collar Russians who came to see the games. Not only were those guys hilarious, but at one point I realized that my brand-new helmet was missing and I found it, sitting on top of my motorcycle, right outside the front door to the hotel. What are the odds that you could leave a $500 helmet sitting anywhere else for 4 hours and not have someone nick it? My new Russian pals were taking turns watching it for me.

On to the actual events themselves - I was able to ride right up to the curbside and watch the competitors during the cycling time trial because, with those official stickers, all the cops and corner workers thought that I was some sort of Potentate involved with the cycling events. It was a fantastic experience - I was able to see the great Miguel Indurain win the Gold Medal in the last major race of his long career.

Later that night I was also able to sneak right up to the party and exhibit that BMW had set up at the Hospitality Center in downtown Atlanta. Getting into there required that I ride two blocks going against traffic on one-way streets. When I did get stopped and took off my helmet and so forth the security guys at the BMW Hospitality Center sorta looked at each other, looked at me, checked my ID, and smiled and said that my new bike would look fine sitting there at the entrance. And to enjoy myself.

(I later heard that one reason why I was able to get to the Hospitality Center so easily was that the head of BMW Motorcycles North America was riding around on a new, red, R1100RS. I was there on my new, shiny, red, K1100RS. Supposedly the BMW security folks saw me, blocks away, on their television monitors).

Ah, those were the happy days of a misspent youth. I'd hate to try some of those stunts today, considering how paranoid many folks have gotten over security at events like the Olympics.

Today, the scene would be something like this:

Funny recollections, and one more little hill successfully climbed

2008-07-19T20:22:00.013-04:00

July 4th reminded me of a funny time in my life. The time in about 1995 or so when I was living in Wilmington, NC and dating Ms. DC. And I had this pal named Steve.

Everyone should have a friend like Steve. Steve was so politically incorrect that he was just a hoot. He once had a license plate that read "BARFLY." No joke. And you mention just about any subject and Steve would get on a tangent that always involved something political and something conservative. But never PC. Yet Steve was a lot more funny than he was mean spirited.

Steve was pretty much the ultimate good ol' boy.

Steve was pretty seriously into firearms and fireworks. We had been out to his family's farm doing some target shootin' in the past and Steve had a collection of military-styled firearms that wasn't exactly kosher, if'n you get my drift. For most of the time that I knew Steve he was a parts guy at a Buick dealership but had recently been accepted in the training program for the local fire department.

One day Steve, knowing that I had moved to Wilmington, got in touch with me. Steve wanted to set off some fireworks.

OK, I thought. We can find a place on the beach somewhere where he could set off some stuff to his heart's content.

Naw, Steve had a particular location in mind. Only problem was that Steve was afraid that he'd set a nearby condo complex on fire.

So I was thinkin' "Wait a minute Man. Come back to the light. That's getting a little out of hand."

Turned out that Steve actually had a permit to do fireworks displays commercially, and he was managing the 4th of July display at an amusement park in Carolina Beach, NC.

Duh. Of course.

So the big day arrives and Ms. DC happens to be in town. We motorcycled over to Carolina Beach and Steve makes us part of the crew and we get VIP access to where the fireworks are going to be set off. Ms. DC is really happy and tells me that she REALLY likes fireworks displays.

OK.

Now, commercial grade fireworks aren't anything like the sparklers or fire crackers that you buy in Tennessee and take back to Indiana. Steve and his crew of two workers had spent a day digging holes in the sand. Mortars made of PVC pipe were inserted into the sand, explosives placed into those mortars, and when the fuse was lit a rocket would shoot out of the mortar.

And the rockets looked to me like they were about 6 inches in diameter. Nothing puny about this at all.

The event starts, and Steve, wearing a fireman's fireproof jacket, sets off the first few rounds.

The rockets scream skyward with a tremendous "whoosh." Flaming embers are on the ground, and the crew is quickly stomping out one or two little brush fires.

"Whoosh!"

"BANG!!!!!!"

The crowd, who are at a safe distance, are applauding.

Of course, I'm at Ground Zero, hanging out with the guys from the local fire department. The noise and the heat are much more intense than anything that any of us expected and the fire truck is rocking back and forth. About that time the Carolina Beach Fire Department decided that they had better move their truck. Pronto. AWAY from Ground Zero.

"Whoosh!"

"BANG!!!"

The truck gets moved, and the firemen and I are all hanging on the side of the fire truck, shielding us from the heat and smoke and flames.

About then I noticed that Steve's two helpers had taken early retirement and were hanging with the firemen and myself. Steve's running around wearing that fireproof coat - and shorts! - alternately lighting fuses and stomping out burning embers. But the helpers have had enough and are seeking shelter.

That's when I noticed that Ms. DC was missing.

I was thinking that, My God, Ms. DC was probably scared to death.

I looked around at the growing crowd that was seeking shelter next to the fire truck.

I even looked inside the cab of the fire truck.

I literally looked underneath the fire truck, thinking that perhaps she had crawled under there seeking shelter because, at this time, Ground Zero resembled a war zone.

No Ms. DC.

I walked to the fence and looked out at the crowd. No Ms. DC.

Now I was really getting worried. Poor girl probably ran away in fear, and she was no doubt PO'd at me because I wasn't paying attention to her and keeping her away from danger.

I walked back to the fire truck and I was just getting ready to walk up to say something to Steve when I saw her. Ms. DC was sitting on the opposite side of the fire truck from where all of us manly men were hiding. She was sitting on the steps of the fire truck, all by herself, with a primo view of ground zero. Basically getting a sun burn from the glow of all of those pyrotechnics, and breathing in the fumes from all of those explosives.

That girl REALLY had a thing for fire works ;)

And Steve? Well, the last time that I checked Steve was Captain Steve at a major metropolitan fire department.

It's a funny world that we live in.

Oh, and the image at the top of the page? I found it online. That's literally the same venue, just a few years later. Small world.

~~~

Here's the source of my biggest irritation so far this summer:

Don't recognize 'em? Look at the three sets of grills on the lower side of our motorhome. Those are our CruisAir air conditioners.

At best, motorhome air conditioning is a bit of a black science. Even when brand new, and regardless of brand, they usually only promise to cool the interior 20 degrees, so if it's 120 degrees in Phoenix, Arizona at 5PM it's going to be 100 degrees inside the RV and there's not much that you can do about it, except to abandon ship and hit the pubs early.

The Bluebird, being the best-of-the-best when it was built 25 years ago, specified CruiseAir units for the first few years of production and then switched to more conventional overhead units like you see on your average motorhome.

Supposedly the CruiseAirs work really well. When they are working right.

At least CruiseAir is still in business. Only they make very few RV air conditioners these days. Most of their production is geared towards yachts.

It's a clever unit. The compressor is down below the interior floor where there is little noise. Alas, the condenser unit is buried wayyyy back in the interior cabinetry, which means that it takes an Act of Congress and a week's work to remove one.

And did I mention that it's very difficult to get to the compressor units to work on them because the bus has to be lifted, and none of our local rv dealers has a lift strong enough to lift the Bluebird?

A buddy of mine said that the CruisAirs are actually pretty easy to work on. Then again, he used to own a valve-manufacturing company, and has a grease pit in his personal garage where he works on his Bluebird. And, oh yeah. His new bus has overhead air conditioners anyway.

Another downside to a CruisAir unit is that they require quite a bit of power to run them and even more power to start the compressor. Many motorhomes and travel trailers can make do with 30 amp. electrical service. The 'bird requires 50 amp. service, which we are discovering is practically non-existent in Mexico. On 30 amp. service we would be lucky to run one of the units at a time, never mind all three of them.

We have three separate CruiseAir "basement" units. The bedroom unit at least works like a champ.

I got a household A/C tech out to check the things out and he concluded that the center unit was essentially dead and that the front unit was working awfully hard to cool anything.

As our Florida summer got hotter, the less effective that front unit had become.

Prevost, the big Canadian bus builder, has a service center here in Jacksonville. Hell, Prevost owned Bluebird for a few years! The local Prevost garage declined to work on the CruiseAir units, saying that they hadn't had a lot of luck repairing them. Luck? I was beginning to think that Voodoo and black magic was the only way we would every get the A/C running properly.

Bluebird said that if we'd drive up to Georgia then they'd be happy to look at them but that we should expect to hang out around the plant for a week waiting for parts.

And CruiseAir's closest authorized repair shop, down in Tampa, commented that they were used to working on yachts and had never even seen a CruisAir unit installed in a motorhome. They actually referred us to an RV shop that was up the coast a bit from them.

This was starting to suck. Fast. Things were getting to the point where the 'bird was so hot by 2-3PM that we were scheduling ourselves to be out and running errands in the afternoon.

The first owner of our Bluebird Wanderlodge must have had some similar problems because they had added a conventional Coleman overhead unit to the front of the bus. That unit had never worked during the tenure of the 2nd owner (we are the third owners) and I discovered many moons ago that the power to that a/c unit was disconnected. Running a temporary electrical cable had resulted in the factory wiring shorting out and a near fire, so understandably we weren't going to reconnect that sucker.

The solution? Striking out on getting anyone to repair the CruisAirs, we decided to replace that overhead unit.

After a bit of research we settled on a Coleman Mach III PS "power saving" unit. Requiring 10.5 amps to start one of these things (contrasting with 15 amps for a comparable standard Coleman unit) the savings in electricity should pay for the slightly higher purchase cost. More importantly we expect to be able to use the PS unit at campgrounds where we are unable to get 50 amp service.

With a little detective work ol' John was able to track the original wiring for the overhead unit back to where it had been disconnected. Unbolting that old unit and swapping for a newer unit proved to be surprisingly uneventful, with a friend helping me manhandle the 100 lb. a/c units on and off the roof.

I had some concerns about disposing of the old unit, but after I put it on the curb in the evening some scavenger grabbed it before the next morning. Go figure. You have to love living in a semi-industrial area.

After a week's worth of experience with the new Coleman we have been very pleased with it. In conjunction with the old bedroom unit, the Coleman has been able to keep the front area of our motorhome cool despite having two warm adults working on computers and watching television pretty much 24/7. (As an aside computers and televisions put out a tremendous amount of heat - switching everything over to LCD monitors earlier this spring made a noticeable difference).

If we continue to have good luck with the Coleman unit I expect that we'll add a second one to replace the center A/C unit, which these days basically works as just a ventilation system.

The fate of the installed CruisAir units is uncertain. I could remove them and save the weight. One the other hand getting them working again is tempting, because one thing that you learn from living and working in a motorhome is that backups for all essential systems is a wise idea, and everywhere that we travel to makes A/C practically mandatory. My friendly A/C tech told me that he would be interested in fiddling with them during his off season and I guess that I could put all 23 tons of Bluebird bus up on wooden blocks at our workshop in order to get in under the thing and to lower the units down. Not a small job, for certain.

Stay tuned.

Here's the new Coleman unit (the white box) installed on the roof:

And here's the old unit after being hoisted off the roof. Can you believe that after I left this on the curb for the garbage man that someone took it?

~~~

Been writing and riding a little bit lately.

Got a few more chapters of my (presumably) first novel roughed out. I have been making a point to drop every thing else and hit one of our local pubs early in the day before the noisy regulars got in. Yeah, it's a tough gig but someone has to do it. Deb has been encouraging me to grab a pitcher of beer and to write. Bless her heart.

~~~

I was hanging out with some former club members of our now-defunct vintage motorcycle club last Monday. They have been having get togethers at a place called the Fly's Tie in Atlantic Beach, FL. Interesting place; it's a seriously Irish bar owned by a seriously Irish family. Ralph used to have some really great food there, much better than you would associate with a small bar, before the anti-smoking laws forced the closure of the kitchen. Ralph's girlfriend was, back in the day, a singer in a name Celtic band and they managed to book some other well-known bands into this tiny little bar. If you are familiar with a band called Flogging Molly, imagine them singing in a bar that doesn't hold more than maybe two dozen people. Talk about a great private show!

If you are in Atlantic Beach, Florida and looking for a pint, let me suggest the legendary Fly's Tie.

177 Sailfish Drive E, Atlantic Beach, FL 32233-4126. Phone: (904) 246-4293

~~~

Hanging at the Fly's Tie I ran into my pal Scott, who was a loyal regular of the vintage motorcycle club. We discussed doing a little riding, and since I needed to pick up some parts and kick some tires at BMW of Daytona in a few days we made an afternoon of the the trip.

After leaving BMW of Daytona we headed over to my favorite Irish pub in Daytona Beach, the
Tir na nOg. Thank God they had cold Bass Ale on draft, because as I mentioned previously Bass on draft has been getting scarce in these parts. We were there on a Wednesday which was a bit slow, but if you catch the 'nOg on a night when there is a band or the rugby guys are there it's a hoot. Tir na nOg - 612 E International Speedway Blvd., Daytona Beach, FL 32118 (386) 252-8662 www.tirnanogpub.com/

Scott outside the Tir na nOg. That reflective thing right behind Scott, incidentally, is my jet black K1200LT. Pretty effective graphics. Yes, I do have this thing about getting my ass run over in the middle of the night and I do like lots of lights and reflective tape :

~~~

If you follow the financial news you are probably aware that InBev of Belgium bought that American standard, Anheuser-Busch, brewer of Budweiser.

Hmmm ... Stella Artois and Bass Ale are InBev products. Busch and Budweiser are A-B products.

Here's to hoping that no jobs are lost in the merger, but I am cautiously optimistic that Stella will bring better beers to a wider distribution here in the USA.

~~~

An Alabama-based friend of mine from the BMW bike circles is doing a contract programming gig here in Jacksonville for the next few months. We were discussing going the the open house at the local Honda dealer. That place is literally within bicycling distance from our workshops and I figured "Why not?" Bikes, burgers, and young nymphets washing motorcycles. What's not to love, right?

All kidding aside, in years past this particular Honda dealer was a big supporter of the Iron Butt Association and was a stop in an Iron Butt Rally in years gone by. Now their business seems to be all about sport bikes for kids (it was amazing how many used bikes they had for sale that had obviously taken one slow, sliding accident and then presumably the owner decided to get rid of it) and cruisers, but few touring bikes.

Robert and the ladies. Three guesses which one is Robert:

And what kind of idiot rides a bicycle to a motorcycle function, right? Even if the bicycle comes complete with an Iron Butt Association/Long Distance Riders sticker:

Please note - I may be moving my blog to another service!

2008-06-23T09:03:00.007-04:00

I hate to start off on a negative note, but I may have to move this blog to another service.

Blogger, which is a Google product, is having some significant problems with "spam blogs" which, as I understand it, are blogs that are run by robots and repeat nonsense just to screw up the search engines.

Should this blog move, the new address will be http://www.piratejohn.wordpress.com/

I am sure that spam blogs read like some of the political blogs that are out there lately, but I digress.

Anyhow, in their infinite wisdom, the Blogger robots decided that my blog was a spam blog and so they locked it pending a review by real, live humans.

After about 10 days, Google finally released my blog from their idea of probation.

Judging from what I have been reading in some of the Blogger support groups I am far from being alone. Many people are commenting that they are experiencing the same problems and there are no human beings available to review and unlock the blogs. Google's Blogger product, it seems, has zero telephone number or email addresses with which to reach a real, live human being. Talk about frustrating!

Even worse, it appears that many blogs will get unlocked, and then, a few days later, get locked again and the cycle of inaction repeats itself as Google's software just won't learn.

Needless to say I am not impressed. For those of us who are trying to stay in touch with friends literally worldwide not having a working blog is ... well ... not very biznesslike.

Assuming that my blog gets unlocked long enough to send out this note to my faithful readers I am going to move the blog *IF* they lock this one again. Fun's fun, but it's time to move on if Blogger/Google cannot get their act together.

Once again, *IF* I have to move the blog, the new address will be http://www.piratejohn.wordpress.com/

Hopefully that won't happen, because I feel that Blogger has a good product. Just lousy customer support.

And for those of you who just cannot miss my periodic posts (that's "periodic," not "idiotic" or at least hopefully those are your feelings;) I usually announce a new post on my joke list, the Humourlist.

I've done the HumourList for something like 15 years with the goal of delivering an office-safe joke daily 4-5 times a week. The list is for adults, but I avoid anything that would be obviously offensive in most workplaces, like nudity, political, or ethnic jokes. I do very few ethnic jokes although I do enjoy laughing with, but not at, my Irish ancestors.

Back in the Olden Days when jokes by email was a newish phenomenon the HumourList had a pretty good following. Playboy Magazine published my jokes a few times and a number of radio stations used them. I well remember flying into Guam and one of the first things that I heard on the radio was the DJ reading my joke for the day on the air.

Bizarre. Must have been a slow day in Agana.

Times change, and jokes by email are no longer anything that unique. Still the HumourList continues. So if you want to subscribe to the HumourList (and that will keep you in touch with this blog, no matter where it moves to) you can subscribe at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HumourList

~~~

Technology changes too. Remember when the Sony Walkman came out? Kind of a chunky device that played back music on cassette tapes and later from CDs? If that's your frame of reference then you need to get thyself over to Circuit City ASAP and take a look at the new music players. The iPod generation has arrived, and it's already having some really brilliant grandchildren.

Apple's iPod was the original revolutionary innovator in this segment but I needed an MP3 player that had a built in FM radio and that eliminated the iPod from my selection. Thankfully there is no shortage of competitors willing to sell 2, 4, and 8 gigs of storage space for $60 to $150 with a sleek form factor, just to keep Apple honest these days.

In the final analysis I wound up getting a SanDisk View, which is meant to be a tiny video player as much as an MP3 player. I needed something with a form factor that was large enough that I could handle it while wearing gloves and I needed to be able to actually see it when I was riding my motorcycles and bicycles without inadvertently riding off the highway. That eliminated the tiny, tiny MP3 players that are on the market, at least for my purposes, 'cause I can't read the displays on those things without reading glasses. Yeah, it sucks getting older.

My little 8 gigabyte MP3 player isn't the tiniest one out there by any stretch. Still, it's amazing that the vendor can cram that much storage plus an FM radio into an ultra thin little piece of plastic.

In the photo is my SanDisk Sansa. In the background, just for comparison purposes, is my old CD-playing Walkman and Deb's very tiny 2 gigbyte Sansa clip, which she picked up when I was looking for my own MP3 player.

Technology does indeed move on.

~~~

Movie reviews:

Ironman. Go and see it. Robert Downey, Jr. may enjoy a well-earned reputation in some circles as a jerk, but he's the right actor for this part and the movie has a ton of personality and quirky humour. Special effects are ... well ... believable for a science fiction.

The Incredible Hulk. If Ironman gets an A, give the Hulk a B. I enjoyed the flick and it's a ton better than the last Hulk movie, but not as good as Ironman. Still highly enjoyable however.

Incidentally, am I the only one who finds it either scary or disappointing that the best movies of the last decade or so are coming out of comic books? This stuff is good escapist entertainment, but as much as I enjoyed the X-Men, for example, when I was a kid it ain't exactly War and Peace.

Next, go and see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Crystal Skull follows the same general theme as the original Indiana Jones films, but updated to the 1960's with a more mature Harrison Ford. This film is like visiting old friends, and if you've seen the other Indiana Jones films then there is little suspense in the plot, but it's still a pleasant romp.

Finally, Hancock got two thumbs up from Deb and myself. Will Smith does an excellent job of bringing some humility and believability to this tale of a lonely and bitter superhero who drinks too much and who has less than a sterling attitude. Hancock is a different sort of comic bookish figure, that's for sure. Hancock's advertising campaign is more comical than the film is, which has some pretty adult, gritty moments. There is a pretty interesting and surprising plot twist. All in all, a good film, but not really for youngsters.

Now that I'm on a non-conventional schedule, I am rediscovering all sorts of neat little things that you don't realize when you work 9 to 5. One of those things is that our local mega- movie theatre shows films for $5 during the day Monday through Thursday. If you too are working at home or have a schedule that gives you the time for personal errands during week days you might look into your local theater's policies.

~~~

Summer's here folks. Get your Walkman or iPod out and walk around your neighborhood. Or, for that matter, walk to your local theatre. It's time to get out and do stuff!