A Day In Clovis

Went to Clovis on Sunday.

I've been looking for a bench style cedar chest for the foot of my bed, and I found a perfect one at a great price on Craigslist.  There was just one thing. . . .it was in Clovis, more than 150 miles away.  But then I decided that wasn't so far for a professional driver, and Clovis looked like a cute town.  So when the seller said she'd hang on to it for me until I could make it out this weekend, I figured why not?

It was a beautiful day, the Pacheco pass clothed in autumn brown and gold, the irrigated fields still green where pickers working in a long row were furiously trimming produce and pitching it into transport wagons.  The air was filled with the scent of garlic.  I don't care much for garlic, but for some reason it always smells awesomely good driving through Gilroy, like jars of dill pickles freshly opened, or something savory and wonderful simmering on the stove. Somewhere past Casa de Fruta I saw a small herd of Belted Galloway cattle, an old Scottish breed developed to thrive in poor pasture.  Compared to the hard conditions of the Scottish uplands where they originated, they were in lush pasture shaded by old oaks, eye catching by the side of the road in their striking black coats and white cummerbunds.  When I came out of the Pacheco Pass onto the floor of the San Joaquin Valley just past the San Luis Reservoir, I looked for the Tule Elk I saw grazing there last year on my way to Slab City.  But they were off doing elk business somewhere else.

I stayed on State Route 152 through Los Banos, and arrowed across the valley to 99, then to 180 and the rural outskirts of Clovis, where the parcels have been subdivided into ranchettes with nice homes built on them.  I found the address with no trouble, and loaded up the cedar chest with help from the sellers.  Nice people.  They told me the old downtown of Clovis was a great place to go antiquing and had lots of charm and fun stores, but cautioned me that many stores might be closed for Sunday.  I got quick directions and set off in search of lunch.

Old Town Clovis is charming, light and cheery and filled with tons of antique stores, boutiques and gift shops.  The first thing that caught my eye was A Book Barn.

The outside is deceptively bland, but inside it is a book lover's paradise, with a warm, cozy vibe that lets you know you are in the right place.

This is everything a used bookstore should be!  Two levels, nonfiction on the upper mezzanine and fiction below.  Wonderfully well organized so it is easy to find what you are looking for, yet with just enough bookish clutter and warm wood glass-front cases to give you the sense that around a corner or tucked into a nook you are bound to find an unexpected treasure.

Mass market paperbacks are shelved alphabetically by author, as are hardback and trade fiction.  And they know what they have!  No blank looks or vague waving of the hand when you ask for help finding something.  When I asked for Diana Gabaldon titles, for instance, they knew right away that there weren't any to be had at the moment (thanks to the wildly popular Outlander series being made even more popular by the television show), though they double checked to make sure.

They have a nice children's section, romance, science fiction, fantasy, and an impressive collection of young adult fiction.  Also classics, poetry, and probably a number of others I don't recall.

There was a wonderful collection of antiquarian children's books.

This case had children's miniatures and special vintage items.

I was in raptures to find shelves of western americana fiction, including collectible hardback editions of the ubiquitous Zane Grey, and I even found a B.M. Bower novel and a couple of Will James titles (both of which I collect, though I had copies of all the titles they had).  These books are not being sold at bargain prices, but they are fairly priced for antiquarian books and it's worth it to be able to find such a great collection of neat old vintage fiction.  I couldn't resist The Gaspards of Pine Croft by Ralph Connor, both because it seemed like an inviting story and because of the wonderful pictorial cover.  I have a weakness for the old pictorial hardboard covers on vintage books.

I never made it upstairs, which is sort of a shame since I don't know when I'll get back to Clovis.  But while I was wandering around on the bottom floor I passed an alcove of romance books where two ladies were comfortably tucked away, sitting on the floor to read and browse.  One of them said, with that happy little note of contentment that book lovers have when surrounded by their favorite books, "I could just stay here forever and live here.  They have all my books!"

 You'll find loads of rare and collectible vintage and antiquarian stock along with plenty of everyday fare.  Fascinating ephemera rubbing shoulders with bargains priced to sell, some of them very cleverly packaged, like this shelf near the front desk.

The proceeds from the sale of these coquettishly packaged volumes go to support the Central Valley Young Writers Contest.  You can just see the plain brown bags on the lower shelf that I presume have multiple books in them with the genre printed on the bag.  See the single book labelled "Love in horse country?"  I couldn't walk away.  Anything with love, horse, and country in the description has got my attention.  I figure I've gotten my dollar's worth just from the tingle of anticipation at what I'll find when I unwrap it.  Will it be trashy, mildly diverting, a complete waste of time or an unexpected treasure?  I'll let you know.

A Book Barn upper level non-fiction section

Owners Dan and Peggy Dunklee are real book lovers, real purveyors of books.  They have a lot going on at the Book Barn, book clubs, special events, charity programs and more.  There were lots of people coming and going and it was easy to see that beyond just being a cool bookstore, this place is an important part of the community.  If you are a book lover who lives in the Fresno/Clovis area, count yourself fortunate to have a first rate example of a vanishing breed:  the truly great used bookstore.  If you are a collector looking for something special, they may be able to help you find what you are looking for.  And if you are a book lover passing through Clovis with time for only one stop, make it A Book Barn.  Find them at 640 Clovis Avenue, Clovis, CA, or on the web at www.clovisbookbarn.com.  They get a well-deserved Five Trees On The Mountain!



I asked several people about local thrift stores, but I kept being pointed to downtown Clovis' great collection of antique stores.  I like antiques, but don't really need to collect any more than I already have, and these days I prefer thrifting.  All the nearby thrift stores seemed to be closed on Sunday though, so after Book Barn I went looking for lunch.  A likely looking Cafe had just closed, but the ladies sitting outside in the perfect October afternoon directed me to a family owned Mexican restaurant called Salsa.  I tried to find it, but got derailed when one of the streets nearby was closed off for a Halloween trick-or-treat event for the kids.  I parked Goose and went walking, but I couldn't find Salsa and somehow wound up wandering into another place called Bobby Salazar's Restaurant and Cantina.

It turned out to be a bit more Cantina than Restaurant, a rather dark bar with a wall of TV's showing all the games and a number of booths on the opposite wall.  But the bartender was welcoming and I was hungry, so I ordered the chimichanga.  Service was fast, friendly, and efficient, and with almost preternatural speed, my a la carte carnitas chimichanga appeared with generous sour cream and guacamole on the side. Except that it wasn't quite right.  It was hot, loaded with meat and cheese (and little else), but resting on a slick of grease.  I realize that fried burritos (which is what chimichangas are) are not a low fat item, but there is a difference between a good chimi--light, crisp, golden brown-- and what was on my plate.  I could have taken a picture of it, but I wasn't inspired to record what looked like nothing so much as an enormous Hot Pocket.  It was flatter than you'd expect and had odd indentations along it's length, regular pressed-in lines that looked suspiciously factory made.  And it was not crisp like it had come out of a fryer, but sort of heavy and soggy as if it had been popped from the freezer into the microwave (which would explain how it had magically appeared in front of me minutes after I ordered).  I am probably making it sound worse than it was and could certainly be wrong about the cooking method.  It was flavorful, hot, and cheesy, but really, it was not a true chimi, not any kind of authentic Mexican cooking and certainly not worthy of the nine dollar entree price.  I ate half and boxed the remainder, but it wasn't improved by the ride home.  Fresh sour cream, good guacamole and great service earn this joint Two Trees, but I walked out of there thinkin' I should have gone to Salsa.

I puttered around, going into a couple of antique stores.  They were fine, full of the usual varied merchandise and sporting friendly, knowledgeable proprietors.  In one shop the owner told me the story of a stuffed teddy bear that was for sale.  He had rescued it from a family who were going to throw it away.  It was a very old bear with mohair fur and the traditional straw excelsior stuffing, but in bad shape.  The man took him to a local doll hospital and had him patched up, then posed him for a Christmas themed cover photo of an antique magazine.  He showed me the magazine and the bear did look very happy, riding a trike under Santa's smiling eye.  I wondered about who had once loved that bear and what had become of them and if they had known he was about to be thrown in the trash, and then I thought how sad it must have been for the bear.  I started to feel a terribly sentimental children's book narrative forming up in my head about this poor bear's adventures (not an original idea, I admit), so I hastily thanked the man for rescuing the bear and hurried out of the shop before the chapter where the bear comes home with Mountain Kimmie to live with all her other stuffed animals could unfold.

A lot of places that looked like they would be fun to check out were closed, either closed for Sunday or on short Sunday hours.

But then I found Bear Creek Gifts and Cabin Decor.

I only had about 15 minutes to shop before they closed, which was maddening because of course I'm all about the rustic!  Three rooms full of western, country, rustic and cabin gifts and decor.

They had an enormous log bed, and a whole room of rustic furniture.

Lamps, clocks, rugs, throw pillows, and tons of other housewares for the cabin or country home.  Also small, quality gifts suitable for housewarming, stocking stuffers or just because, and some fun stuff for kids.  They were having a sale on small throw rugs for $19 and I almost bought one for KD, but decided she didn't need yet another throw rug.  I had a hard time resisting the cotton afghan throws though, especially the one with a travel trailer and the legend that "Home is where you hook up!" or the one with the woodsy cabin scene.

This kitty made me think of Demeter of The Wild, a mountain lion of my acquaintance.

Fortunately these folks have a website, so if you don't live near Clovis you can still shop for the rustic!  I found them very helpful and accommodating, happy to arrange shipping or answer questions about any product.  You can take a virtual tour of the store on their website, and if you can't find what you are looking for, owners Larry and Pat Grossi will be glad to help you if you give them a call.

I bought a little pine tree hook for KD, and a small gift for a niece.  They had a great collection of wall hooks in many designs, most of which you can find on the website.  Maybe it was a blessing that I didn't have much time to shop, because I could have done some serious damage to the bank account in that place.

Find Bear Creek Gifts and Cabin Decor at 400 Clovis Avenue, Clovis, CA, or at www.bearcreekgifts.com.  Or give them a call at (877) 644-1579.  Mountain Kimmie gives them Five Trees! (I sort of have to).

I got back to Goose, parked on Fifth Street in front of the Rodeo Coffee Shop (sadly, closed for the afternoon--I so wish I could have had lunch there).   I found her hanging out with some new friends.  That was a missed photo opportunity, now that I think about it.  Kids in costume were lined up on the sidewalk with their parents, getting ready to get into blocked off Pollasky Avenue for the trick-or-treating festival.  They were draped all over the good and faithful Goose, who always tries to make herself useful.  I wish now that I'd taken that picture.  One kid had a great costume.  He was entirely encased in a tight fitting, stretchy black garment, even his head.  He looked like a featureless doll perched on Goose's back bumper.  When I asked if I was seeing the invisible man hanging out with my truck he leaped up and darted away, vanishing with startling speed.  It was quite unnerving and very effective.  I complimented his mom on the great costume.   There were so many kids milling around that I was having fits trying to keep them all in view until I recruited a couple of adults to watch carefully as I backed up and then pulled away so I wouldn't run over anyone.

I was headed for the Pilot Travel Center in Madera, and it was a long, weary slog on surface streets with a million lights to get back to 99, and then the Garmin was confused by the fact that the Pilot was on "18 1/2 Road".  I wound up in front of an empty field on 18 Road.  There was no way to enter 1/2 into the address field as far as I could tell, but it found the address when I searched for the name.  Google Maps on the smartphone would also have quickly found it, a good example of why it can be helpful to have more than one GPS system onboard. Goose got a quart of oil and a tank of gas and I got a free coffee with my Pilot card. 

While I gave Goose her oil and threw out the trash and fixed a cold drink for the drive home, I saw an older man sitting in his truck with a camper a few spaces away.  He had a big white cowboy hat and he looked like an old, retired trucker.  He reminded me so much of Ken, and suddenly there was an overwhelming sense of Kenny's presence.  This happens sometimes, especially when I'm on the road or getting gas at truck stops.  I'll feel him near . . . .

I set the GPS for home and we got on the road, headed north on 99 to catch 152 back toward Pacheco Pass.  The sun was low, shining right in my eyes for awhile.  But then it dropped below the Diablo Range that was drawing closer as we rolled west, until the last tiny twinkling gleam winked out behind a peak and the sky was filled with golden and amber light, the blue above deepening with every passing minute.  Through Los Banos as night began to draw near, past the milk processing facility, milk trucks unloading their tanks as I went by, and then out of town and climbing gently into the hills and the Pacheco Pass, the San Luis reservoir glimmering on my left.

Got home about 8:30 and left the cedar chest in the back of the truck for the night, too tired to deal with wrestling it inside.  I'll put up a picture of it later when I get a chance.

It was another successful run for the MKT&TC.  Cargo delivered.

Vintage fiction from A Book Barn, Clovis CA

Sinclair Dino

Yet another Sacramento run having to do with KD.  Stopped for a bio-break on the way and saw a Sinclair station with an awesome dinosaur.  He was strapped to his rock for some reason, maybe he's been wandering.  Cool to see the Sinclair dino.  Much more common further east.  One of the fuRn things about my trip last summer.  I even saw the Sinclair dino in the clouds onc, somewhere on the road in Texas.

Books at the Yolo County SPCA Thrift

The bookstore just a couple doors down is part of the thrift store, but they've chosen to keep it separate, which is good news for serious book lovers.  It is very much a bookstore, but there was also a parlor organ, a more than decent acoustic guitar and a flute for sale alongside the books.  Probably these higher value items are easier to protect away from the rough and tumble of the main store.  A closet sized space is labelled the "Toy Room" and has a small but nice collection of dolls and toys, very modestly priced.  And at the counter there is a smattering of jewelry, probably the nicer pieces that get donated, with the run of the mill stuff at the main store.

Mostly what they have in this room is books, and this little space is everything a small used bookstore should be.  It is clean, neat, well organized, peaceful and beautifully air conditioned (the main thrift store was just a tad warm, though with many strategically placed fans to keep the air circulating).  There's a comfy couch area that invites you to sit down and take a load off while you decide if a book is right for you.

It's not large, but there are a lot of books there.  This picture doesn't show a fraction of them.

Nonfiction is organized into sensible categories, neatly labelled.  Fiction has been sorted into categories like fantasy, scifi, chick lit, and literature.  It didn't appear that fiction was shelved alphabetically by author, which makes it a little harder if you are looking for a specific title or author.  But the store is small enough that it is not a huge hardship to scan the shelves of the section likely to contain what you are looking for.

I focused on paperback fiction and found a lot of high quality, recent releases.  These were all trade paperbacks, many of which you could find today in a retail bookstore for full price (assuming you still have a bookstore in your town).  All paperbacks were priced at $1, and today there was a 20% off sale, so they were really only eighty cents apiece.  That, my friend, is a bargain you cannot ignore if you are a voracious reader.  Hardbacks were only $2, and I saw many first editions of very readable, recent releases.  I bought three trade paperbacks, a flawless copy of Robert Goolrick's Heading Out to Wonderful (which has been on my to-read list but I've been too cheap to buy it new for $14.95), and Penguin Pocketbook editions of Jan Karon's A Light in the Window (book 2 of the Mitford series for a friend), and Mary McGarry Morris' Songs In Ordinary Time. 

Older and vintage books (of all categories) are housed together. 

There was also a section for vinyl records, a rack of greeting cards ($1 each), and a respectable helping of DVD movies, music CDs and even VHS movies.  I thought the sign had said DVDs were $1, but my 3 DVDs wound up costing $8, so maybe I misread the sign.  But no matter, that's still well under $3 per DVD and after they are enjoyed they can be redonated or traded at a used bookstore that buys media to make the final cost even lower.

For local readers on a budget this store is a wonderful resource, and it could be for you too if you are passing through and have the time to check them out.  Reading can be an expensive hobby, but it doesn't have to be and the Yolo County SPCA Thrift bookshop is one reason for that.  I should add that the beautiful and delightful lady manning the register (who had just a hint of a melodious African accent that I could have listened to all day) was very sweet, and walked outside with me to point out where her favorite pizza place was located when I asked her for recommendations on local restaurants (it was Original Steve's Pizza, which I wound up not visiting because I got too busy driving around Davis to look at the scenery and then decided I had to have a chimichanga;  but I'll hit them up next time).

For all these reasons, this little book shop gets Four Trees!

SPCA Thrift in Davis

I've been meaning to stop in Davis on my way back from one of my trips to Sacramento, where KD is resting comfortably in the capable hands of RV Dr. George's shop.  There is a great deal of news on that front, and I'll get to that presently.

I've been in the habit of stopping for a late lunch on the drive back, and this time I decided I was going to find somewhere to eat in Davis and explore a little.   Davis is a pretty town with lots of big, shady trees and comfortable, charming old houses.  It's a "walking town," the sort of place where you want to park the car and stroll along the downtown streets, looking for interesting shops and restaurants.  It has an easy-going, relaxed vibe, like what you often find in a university town, which of course it is.  It was a warm day but thankfully it wasn't brutally hot.  It smelled like there might be a grass fire nearby and a faint haze hung under the trees giving everything just a slightly soft focus effect.  But it wasn't unpleasant and only seemed to underscore the mood of a relaxed, happy summer day.  I had checked local listings for bookstores and thrift stores, and I found both under the same roof!

The Yolo County SPCA Thrift Store seemed to be the one getting the most attention, and proceeds go to help animals in need which gives it an extra star in my book.  I found it on 3rd street, with ample street parking right out front and even managed to snag a spot with shade.

They don't have a ton of square footage, but they they do have 3 modestly sized rooms of retail space pretty well filled with interesting treasures and a larger warehouse space where they receive and sort donations.  There was an impressive hodgepodge of kitchenware.  I found some nice transferware plates and a few partial sets of dishes that, while not complete, might augment your collection if you were lucky enough to have the same or similar pattern.  I almost bought a blue transferware plate that would play nicely with my blue and white Currier and Ives set by Churchill, but I managed to resist the urge.

You could easily outfit a kitchen from this store.  Some solid finds here, like that orange cast iron and enamel casserole.  Everything very reasonably priced.

Of course there are also assorted housewares, nicknacks and clothing.  They do make an attempt to sort clothing at least by general size (i.e., small, medium, large), which is appreciated.  They have a rack marked "vintage," but I saw quite a few cute and quirky items scattered throughout the regular clothing racks that looked "vintagey".

There was some interesting framed art outside the store where furniture, bikes, and other extra inventory gets set out from the warehouse during the day since inside space is limited.  I am now sort of regretting not buying this framed picture, which was labelled on the back "Princess Ileana," undoubtedly the Romanian princess of whom I knew nothing until Googling the name.  It was just a reproduction of a painting, but it had an inexplicable charm and would be perfect with a certain kind of decor.

I thought the most interesting items were the furniture, like this lovely old rocking chair.

Or these end tables and little bookcase, all great candidates for a chalk paint makeover.  The bookcase was eight dollars.

These are only a sampling.  I saw lots of possibilities for easy, inexpensive painted furniture makeovers here, and also a few things that were perfect as they were.

The store wasn't uncomfortably crowded but it was busy and appears to be thriving.  I noticed a number of things I had eyed speculatively disappeared moments later, so there is a lot of turnover and you have to grab it if you want it.  But at the same time the staff was busy putting new furniture out while I was there, and they said they get lots of donations and new stuff arrives all the time.  This is good, you want a thrift store where the inventory keeps moving so you can be assured of finding new treasures on each visit. 

If you find yourself in Davis and you enjoy thrifting, the Yolo County SPCA Thrift Store is worth a stop.  Find them at 920 3rd Street.  3 solid Trees!  And especially because there is also an associated bookstore, in the the same building, but a couple doors down in another suite.  SPCA Thrift Bookstore next.

Chimichanga Win at Tres Hermanas in Davis

It was good!  Very fresh, full of cheese, and with just a piquant taste of something different in the sauce to set it apart from the usual ho-hum take on a classic chimi.  Lovely breeze through the outdoor dining patio where I elected to take a table.

 

Find Tres Hermanas at 805 2nd Street in Davis, CA.  Third generation family-owned Mexican restaurant.  Parking nearby next to the railroad tracks across the street.  They have a nice dining room and bar inside, a dim and cool refuge in the heat of a blazing Davis summer day.  The outside patio is also wonderful, shaded by big umbrellas and looking out onto pretty surroundings, including the SP Depot across the street (now the Amtrak station).

Good food, friendly, attentive staff, and pleasant views earn them 4 Trees!  I recommend.

Tres Hermanas in Davis, CA

On the way home from visiting KD (who is in several pieces at the moment), and drove all over Davis searching for a chimichanga.  Found one at Tres Hermanas, across from the old Southern Pacific station (as usual, I find trains).

My entree comes with a salad, and I decided to try the creamy cilantro dressing.  Wow, I may have found my new favorite dressing.  I'm told it is a house specialty, a recipe that includes olive oil and other secret ingredients.  Creamy but amazingly light, tangy but not aggressively so.  Perfect for a summer afternoon.  Beautiful salad.

The Road Goes Ever On

It was one year ago today that the record-breaking El Reno tornado struck in Oklahoma, taking the lives of 8 people, including Tim and Paul Samaras and Carl Young.  Earlier this evening I watched the live stream of a memorial service chasers and friends conducted at the site where Tim's body was found, still belted into the crushed remains of the car (Paul and Carl were both ejected and were found some distance away).  Amazing Grace was sung.  A moment of silence was followed by a siren sounding a hi-low tone.  Three orange weather balloons were released.  In the distance other sirens could be heard, sounding in tribute rather than warning.  It was a very moving thing to watch and listen to.

Grass has grown back to heal the dreadful scar left by the monster.  Fluffy white clouds built in a blue Oklahoma sky and when peoples' voices quieted, the air was filled with bird song.  In Wyoming, Montana and South Dakota severe thunderstorms developed and there was even a tornado warning.  But all was peaceful in El Reno.

I imagine today must be a hard day for the families.  In particular, I think of Kathy Samaras, who in one awful moment lost both her husband and son.  Grief is such an odd, crooked road.  It starts out like a muddy bog, pulling the shoes from your feet, slowing the wheels of your progress to a painful crawl.  When things become ever so slightly less terrible, you hardly notice because things are still terrible enough.  And then there is the first time you laugh, and you are stunned into momentary silence at the shock of the sound you've just made, a sound you never expected to make again.  Then tears are likely to follow, for laughter and tears are not as far apart as you might think.  There are little moments of peace from time to time, resting places where you find a little space apart from the struggle.  And there may even be an unexpected island of refuge where you think, at last I am free of this burden I've been carrying.  But it is only a way station, and you find yourself back on that road, more often than not trudging along on ground you thought you had already covered. 

It is like that, grief.  Capricious and tricky, and lingering as the days and weeks and months pass by. It is a very long journey made entirely on foot, walked one slow step at a time.

I hope Kathy has found at least some moments of peace, some resting places where the pain leaves her alone for awhile.  I hope she will find her way to an island of unexpected relief and solace.

The El Reno tornado was made much more real for me because I happened to drive through part of its damage path while on my trip to bring KD home last June.  When I looked at this graphic, which shows the path of the tornado including the portion where it tracked east directly down I40, I felt a chill.  I could then put together the damage I'd seen as I drove west with the actual progress and life cycle of the tornado.   Where the damage path tapers and ends is probably about where I saw that first tree, broken off and dangling midway up its trunk.  The widening of the path as you follow it backwards corresponds to the increasing numbers of twisted trees, the horribly mangled billboard I will never forget, the chewed up buildings and the appalling sight of a culvert full of trees that looked like they'd been attacked by a giant dull-bladed lawnmower, or a wood chipper from hell.  Most of all I shiver at the realization that I was driving west back along the very path of death and destruction that had occurred less than 3 weeks before.

The El Reno event has been meticulously analyzed.  A great many pictures and a lot of video footage was shot of it.  There have been a lot of discussions about it, dissecting the storm as well as the behavior and choices of the chasers who were tracking it, and the controversy over the NWS decision to rate it at an EF3 rather than the more accurate EF5 that was documented by radar observed wind speeds.  Quite a number of chasers were caught by this tornado, many of them experienced professionals in the field.  Some were injured severely, a number barely escaped with their lives. Rather than heap blame for real or perceived errors in judgement, I prefer to cheer the successful escape of those that survived and celebrate the lives lived fully until the last moment for those who did not.

Among the best videos I've seen of this event are this one by Pecos Hank, storm chaser, snake wrangler, wildlife expert, musician and my new heart throb.  Hank is a real renaissance man.  He's been described as part storm chaser, part Crocodile Hunter.  His storm photography is breathtaking, and his videos are beautifully shot and edited, so that they become not just entertaining clips of tornadoes, but lyrical, meditative tone poems on the skies and vast canvas of the great plains.  This piece, part sobering documentary, part art, is probably my favorite of all the available footage on the El Reno event.  He recognizes right away that this is a rare monster.  "People are gonna' die today," he says grimly, in an unfortunately accurate prediction.

As a bonus, check out this music video by Hank's band, the Southern Backtones, performing "Forever" at the Foodarama.  It manages to be at once surreal, hilarious, despairing and ultimately triumphantly euphoric.  There are a lot of other goodies on Hank's beautifully crafted website.  I give it five trees.

And then there is this, the full chase of the El Reno tornado by Australian chaser and storm spotter Daniel Shaw.  Daniel regularly streams his chases live (you can find his site with live streaming link here) during his weeks spent in the U.S. during tornado season.  The rest of the time he is in Australia, looking for Aussie twisters and any other weather events he can find.

This piece is particularly compelling because it captures not only some of the best footage of the often elusive tornado circulation itself, but also the stress, tension, and terror of the event.  Daniel is not just a chaser out looking for great shots, he is a trained spotter and licensed ham radio operator who performs a valuable service as part of the Spotter Network.  Watching him dodge the beast while calling in reports and listening to the spotter radio chatter is a lot like watching a horror movie where you can see the monster that is stalking the unsuspecting victim.  As a viewer equipped with knowledge of this tornado's particularly unpredictable behavior coupled with its epic size and violent wind speeds, you find yourself wanting to yell at Daniel to get out of there, as if it were a masked Michael Myers closing in on Jamie Lee Curtis.

Normally a charming, voluble, enthusiastic solo chaser who constantly chatters at his viewers and seems to Never. Stop. Talking, during this event he telegraphs quite clearly the stress of being on the front lines of tracking a deadly twister.  The money quote for me was when the Baron Mobile Threat application he uses gives out its audible warning of "You are approaching a twisting storm.  Please exercise caution," and Daniel answers it with a muttered "No shit."

And finally, perhaps the most terrifying of them all is Dan Robinson's literal brush with death as he finds himself unknowingly caught in the outer circulation of the tornado and only realizes what is happening when it is too late.  Dan is believed to be the last person to have seen Tim, Paul and Carl alive.  He was only seconds and a few hundred yards ahead of them when they were killed.  He was very lucky to have survived, and still deals with the traumatic emotional aftermath.  Dan provided detailed information which helped piece together much of what happened on that awful day.  Ultimately this information may serve to help others avoid getting trapped the same way, and is part of the larger body of data and experience that is slowly building our ability to understand these events and thereby save lives.

To quote Daniel Shaw after he observed a moment of silence for Tim, Paul and Carl while driving across the plains on his live streamed chase today, "May their dear souls rest in peace."

Joplin Says Thank You

It's true that I was only in Joplin, Missouri for just under 24 hours while on my trip last summer.  And it's true that I only talked to a few people while I was there.  And it's true that I only spent a little bit of money while I was there as my tiny, tiny contribution to Joplin's recovery.

But it's also true that those few hours and few people made a big impact on me, and underlined some very important lessons about courage in the face of trauma and devastating loss.

And that's probably why this video, just released on May 1st, makes me totally lose it.



(Thanks to tornadoraiders.com for tweeting the link).

Catching the Big One

What a day.  Chased Big Boy UP 4014 from Victorville to Barstow to Yermo.  Looking at the great one parked at Yermo as I type this.

More when I'm not so verklempt!

Harris Ranch Redux

It's hot in Coalinga.  Or at least warm, and hot in the sun.  Stopped for ice and gas, and my peeps decided to head out in search of cheaper gas and pick me up on the return loop.  Harris Ranch is a nice stopping point but does not have the best prices.

Imagining my Best Day

I have a mental picture of me in the cab of UP 4014 (fully restored), highballing down the track in Nebraska in pursuit of a perfect wedge tornado.  I am hanging out of the cab with my video camera going, and I also happen to be in the arms of Thor.  As played by Chris Hemsworth.  The caption on this picture is Mountain Kimmie's Best Day Ever.  The steam crew is back in the lounge car (we will party with them later), and all my favorite chasers are screaming along beside on the highway next to the track.

Ok.  It's stupid.  But it amuses me.

I am off to go see Big Boy as she (or he, there has been some debate about Big Boy's proper gender), heads back home to Cheyenne after 52 years sleeping in the southern California sun.

And out in the mid west, near towns that have grown dear to me, thunder storms are getting underway.   I peer at the radar map to see if tiny Arthur, little Elm Creek, and North Platte are under threat. The field is full of chasers.  It is going to be a big weather weekend in the part of our country that gets big weather.  Some will not be there who would have been if tragedy had not struck almost a year ago near El Reno.  They are missed.

And then there is Big Boy!

There are trains, and there are locomotives, and then there is Big Boy.

More than the sound of ordnance from the gunnery range next door, the sound of trains informs the atmosphere of Slab City.  There is a major rail corridor through this part of the desert, and tracks run at the outskirts of Niland, just about 4 miles from Slab City.  You cross two tracks each time you enter Niland from Slab City (or vice versa), and very often there are trains on those tracks.  This is the Niland Wye, a track configuration that allows trains to back up, change direction, and get out of the way so other trains can pass. 

One day we were on our way back from town when we stopped at the crossing and there were five separate consists stacked up on the main line and on the wye.  One was just two locos hooked together, one was a single engine, a couple were really long strings, and one was a short string with an engine and a few cars.  I wasn’t an intrepid enough photographer to get a shot that showed the whole party.  From the car I grabbed a couple of pictures, but they didn’t really convey the full effect.

 

There's a crossing gate at both tracks, but every time he makes that crossing, Luo pauses and looks carefully both ways.  He says he just can’t not do it.  I do exactly the same thing at that crossing.  Way in the back of my mind there’s always the possibility that not only has the switch malfunctioned, but aliens have killed the crew and the engineer’s dead hand has fallen onto the throttle and shoved it full ahead and a mile-long freight is doing a hundred and will hit the grade crossing just as my car is straddling the tracks.  Because of the angle of the road and the curve of the wye you don’t really have a straight line of sight in both directions, so the hair always goes up on the back of my neck and I crane and peer to make sure I don’t see a headlight barreling toward me before I scuttle over the rails to the other side.  It’s silliness perhaps, but I never want to get into an argument with a train.

With so much traffic passing through, trains can be heard at all hours.  In the coldest, darkest watches of a winter night when the stars are a glittering dome overhead, the rumble of the heavy freights and the mournful voice of their horns calling out at the crossing makes the night seem wilder and lonelier.  In the sweet air of morning when the first pure light of the new day creeps across the land, there are trains.  In the glaring heat of noon, there are trains.  In the slow, drowsy afternoons, when time seems to drift, and at sunset as the first chill of evening is suddenly sharp on the breeze, there are trains.

With a very few exceptions, these are freights.  But sometimes there are excursion trains, sometimes very special ones.  It was Slabbers telling me enthusiastically about UP Steam Locomotive 844 passing through on excursion in late 2011 (which I just missed seeing as I didn’t make my first Slab trip until Christmas of that year) that got me interested in Union Pacific’s steam locos.  I found this video, shot by a full-time Slabber, of 844’s exciting visit.  It started my love affair with 844 and led to my finding out about three classes of big steam locos Union Pacific had in service right at the end of the steam era.  The husky deep whistle of that ponderously chuffing beast still raises the gooseflesh on my arms.

You may remember that while in Cheyenne last summer on The Big Adventure, I stopped at the Cheyenne Depot and museum, talked to a UP employee briefly, and looked longingly at the roundhouse where 844 was dozing.  Again, I just missed seeing her, as she did go out on excursion while I was in the general area, and I could theoretically have caught up with her at a number of stops in Wyoming and Nebraska.  But it would have meant delays that I didn’t think I had time for, so I pushed on with a promise to myself that one day I would come back and spend some quality time with that engine.  But I have put it on my list for future trips (I’m thinking next year), as well as taking the steam shop tour that will allow me to visit not only 844 but her sister 3985 and now, amazingly, the mighty 4014 (read on)!

844 (amazingly kept in continuous service since her delivery in 1944) is a Northern Class loco, a type once used by most large US railroads for both passenger and freight service.  844 pulled a lot of famous passenger trains back in the day, including the Overland Limited. 

The Challenger Class loco was bigger and primarily meant for freight, but also did some passenger duty especially on difficult, mountainous stretches that needed her massive 97,350 lbs. of tractive power.  3985 is Union Pacific’s other resident steam locomotive, a Challenger kept for excursions alongside 844.  Right now she is in the process of having her boiler rebuilt, a huge job that might not be done until 2016.  Until this repair became necessary in 2010, she pulled regular excursion trains and made appearances as the great steam diva she is, rightfully billed as the largest operating steam locomotive in existence.  At 122 feet, she is so long she wouldn’t be able to negotiate track curves without the hinge that allows her to articulate around the bend. 

There is a wonderful video shot by Skip Weythman back in 1999 of 3985 heading back to Cheyenne.  Near the beginning, she accidentally catches on fire, making for a few exciting moments.  But the crew gets the fire out and continues on their way, highballing back to the Cheyenne Depot.

Remember the Chuck Barry song “Johnny B. Goode”? 

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made

In this video you actually can hear the rhythm that the drivers make!  This isn't just some nonsensical line in a song—once upon a time this was the sound of steam locomotion.  In some ways that archaic clanking is a more exciting sound than the puffing exhaust or the iconic whistle.  It’s a thrilling, heart lifting piece of videography that I watched while getting ready for my trip across the plains last summer, and if it doesn’t make you smile, then you probably hate trains.  Seeing that beautiful countryside streaming by made the whole trip suddenly seem more exciting and less scary.  There’s no doubt about it, 3985 was born to run across the plains, and I hope to see her do it again when her new boiler is in place.

But there was an even bigger steam locomotive in UP’s stable once upon a time.  In fact, the biggest steam engine ever built:  the Big Boy.  Based on the Challenger design but expanded to nearly 133 feet long, they were articulated like the Challengers.  There were only twenty-five of them built and they were built exclusively for Union Pacific.  The last were officially decommissioned sometime in 1962 and when their boilers went cold for the last time, it was the end of a magnificent era.  Eight of these engines were given to museums or cities for display, which was certainly better than cutting them up for scrap, the unfortunate fate of the other 17.  They are such behemoths, so seemingly impractical in today’s world, that getting one back into operational condition seemed an impossible dream.  But steam buffs did dream, until the idea became a kind of holy grail of rail fandom.  Various experts, (both real and self-styled), offered lists of reasons why such a thing would be impossible, or at the very least so impractical as to ensure it would never happen.  Others chimed in with counter arguments, saying that it could be done and the UP steam shop had the know-how to do it.  After all, hadn't they gotten 3985 running?

Last year I was poking around idly looking for interesting facts about these huge machines when I stumbled across Internet murmurs that Big Boy 4014 might actually be hauled out of mothballs and made operational again after sitting on display at the Railway and Locomotive Historical Society in Pomona for more than 50 years.  Many people were understandably dubious, filing such rumors away with sightings of Elvis and promises of world peace.  But the people reporting this claimed they had their information from very reliable sources, that UP was committed to making it happen.  Other folks were indignant, suggesting that UP would have to pony up something really good in trade to justify the museum giving up their prize exhibit.  Yet that ignored the fact that most steam buffs, including those at the museum itself, probably felt an operational Big Boy was a greater cause for joy than the possession of a silent and cold one as part of a collection.  It seemed likely that UP wouldn't have to beg too much to get 4014 back, as long as they promised to get her rolling again.

4014 in her glory days  From the Big Boy Information page.

I kept checking to see if anything concrete had actually happened on this front, but like the wheels of big trains, this project would take a while to get up to speed.  Then, just a few days ago, I remembered I hadn't checked for news lately and I found this, recounting the first momentous miles on the road to restoration.  4014 had been moved from her place of slumber in Pomona to the UP yard at West Colton. For the first time in more than fifty years, she had rolled on the rails!  Hundreds of rail fans lined up in the dark to watch the preparations for this big moment, and to cheer as she moved for the first time.  Just getting her ready for this first slow journey took months of preparation and many man hours of work.  Of course she is years away from being able to roll under her own power, but just being able to roll under tow was no small matter.  The machinery of wheels as well as her massive articulation hinge had to be in good enough working order to allow her to even move over the track, she had to be fitted with temporary hoses to take compressed air to her brakes, temporary track had to be built to get her from her resting place to the mainline track, and there were a thousand other details.  This alone took many man hours of labor, so it seems unlikely that Union Pacific isn't serious about this project.

Here is a well done video of part of that big event, including a nice bit of background information.  There are other videos, including this one by an obviously awed and enraptured rail fan.  Toward the end you can hear 4014’s whistle blow.  (It sounds a little anemic—which you can’t really blame her for after a 52-year coma— but I suspect the reason for this is that they must be running compressed air through it taken from the supply for the brakes, since they obviously are not using steam, and perhaps there is not enough volume to allow her whistle to sound with its full voice.  Are there also dynamics of the steam/air mix that the whistle was designed for that are not easily replaced by compressed air?  I say steam/air mix because I assume the high volume steam that would normally jet through that whistle would also pull some air along with it.)

It is almost impossible to overstate how big a deal this is in the world of steam trains.  In fact, this is such big news that it even got Hitler’s attention.  Apparently Hitler and his homies are fans of Norfolk and Western Railroad, which announced plans for the restoration of their steam engine 611 shortly before UP made the official announcement about 4014, spurring speculation that UP’s decision was a way to one-up NW.  I’ve watched a fair number of Hitler downfall parodies, and I have to say this is a fine example of the genre.

And speaking of Hitler, there are stories that German spies sent reports back to the High Command about monster locomotives that could single-handedly haul miles-long strings of heavily laden freight over steep grades.  Nobody believed them, which is probably a good thing or there might have been efforts at sabotage.  Those locomotives were real, UP’s Big Boys and Challengers, and they made a significant contribution to the war effort by moving massive amounts of material quickly over long distances and steep grades.  Whether those stories are true or only myth, 4014 and 3985 and their sisters were perhaps an even more important part of the great American industrial machine that won the war than was the Manhattan Project. 

UP has added 4014 to the portion of its website that deals with its working steam engines.   You can get news about 4014’s progress and even track her position via GPS.  It may be this month that the big move to the steam shop in Cheyenne will happen.  That will be another great event for rail fans to celebrate and no doubt document.  Once she is back home at last, 4014 will join 844 and 3985, and the years of work that it will take to convert her from coal to oil and get her rolling again will begin.  It is a huge undertaking.  Estimates are that it will take about five years for this work to be completed, so we might not see anything before 2019.  That’s a long time for steam buffs to wait, but oh what a day it will be when she takes her first run under her own steam.  To me that sounds like a pretty good reason for a trip to Cheyenne!

Update:  I was still working on this post when I checked and found the news that UP had released the schedule for the 4014’s move to Cheyenne.  The move starts on April 28^th, and that day she’ll be in Victorville, Barstow, and Yermo.  Heat ‘er up, Goose!  We’re goin’ on a road trip! 

As you might imagine, there’s tons of information on teh Interwebs about Big Boy 4014 now.  Here’s a sampling:

A charming and wonderful vintage movie about the Big Boy that was produced by Union Pacific.  It has some fantastic footage and a fabulous retro appeal that makes me feel like I’m back in the third grade watching movies on the cranky old school projector.

UP’s collection of YouTube videos about the project, documenting the progress of moving 4014 and subsequent work to get her ready for the long trip home.

A fantastic set of photos documenting 4014 and her most recent adventures from the fairgrounds where she has slept for fifty years to the Colton yard where she will hang for a while before making the trek to Cheyenne.  There are also some wonderful, atmospheric staged shots with special effects that make her look like she might have back when she was awake and under active steam.  They were taken as part of a fund raiser for the rail museum, and they seem to invoke her return to active duty.  There are 4 pages of high quality photos here.  Go to page 1 and start at the beginning, being sure to open out each shot and read the very informative comments beneath.

Moving 4014 across the parking lot and a press conference afterwards.

High quality footage of the move to the Colton yard with some bonus footage of the crew being posed for a beauty shot and looking hilariously uncomfortable!

The Big Boy Information page, has some great pictures, including that fantastic shot of 4014 under full steam back in her glory days that appears above.

Facebook page for 3985 and 844, (and now 4014).  There is info about 4014 there as well, including news that her move date is supposed to be April 28.  Oh boy.  I’m thinking I might have to go see her.

From the above Facebook page, a scan of Metrolink’s January 25^th track warrant to the engineer of UP 1996, the locomotive that would tow 4014, giving them permission to enter the line and orders as to how they must proceed.  Includes a special and very sweet message to 4014 from the Metrolink dispatch.

Finally, what do you do if you don’t believe you’ll ever get the chance to see or ride in a working Big Boy locomotive?  Why, you go out and build one of your own.  Tom Miller built a perfectly detailed and accurate model of a Big Boy loco and then built a grade to run it on.  It is a 1/8 scale and pulls 40 freight cars with (human) passengers!

And if that isn’t enough for you, check out his Fscale model.  It’s insane.  You could really lose track of where reality ended and the fantasy he has created begins.

Grace and Innocence

Threw the i-Ching last night with the thought of Ruby in her first day firmly fixed in my mind.  Got the following reading:

#22 Bi

Grace

"Inside, the strength of simplicity and self-knowledge.  Outside, the beauty of acceptance and gentleness."

--Changing to -

#25 Wu Wang

Innocence

"All good comes when we are innocent."

Sounds about right to me.

Lucky 13

Today was a something of a remarkable day. 

Spring has arrived and brooks no argument.  Just when I had resigned myself to the dreariness of winter and the weary grind of depression that usually hits me in February, things happened.  Yesterday and today are bursting with warmth and a quality of sunlight that is like waking up from a dark, unpleasant sleep.  The air is fragrant and birds are singing, blooms busting out everywhere.  It is like night leaping into day, this sudden glad shout of spring.

I haven't slept much for the last three nights, because I've been waiting for news, the phone set right by my head with the volume turned up.  This morning the news came.  My niece was born in the first hour of the day.  It still seems like an unbelievable fact, an unexpected miracle, even after months to get used to the idea that she was coming.

People often say babies look just like so-and-so, and I always privately roll my eyes and wonder how such a pudgy, bleary-eyed face can look like anybody yet.  But when I saw the first picture of my brother's child, there was a shock of recognition.  I was looking not at a stranger, but at someone I recognized.  I can so clearly see my brother in her face.  And secretly, did I not also think it was a bit like looking in a mirror?  Perhaps I only imagined that, because this is the closest I will ever come to having a child of my own.  Perhaps I only wanted it to be.  But when I showed the pictures to a friend at work who has been almost as excited by this impending arrival as I am, she said, jeese, she looks just like you.

So maybe it's not just ego or wishful thinking.

At work I've been dealing with a difficult situation, and today I knew I would have to confront it, or at least some of it, directly.  But after the morning's news, problems at work seemed a lot less important.  Things snapped into perspective as they often do when one is brushed by the numinous, which can happen while present at the ending or beginning of  a life.  Or while connected to such an event, even if physically far away. 

Someday, perhaps, I'll be able to tell my niece that her arrival into the world gave me courage to deal righteously with an unpleasant situation.  That instead of cringing and whimpering, I stood up straight and looked it in the eye and handled it like a mountain girl.

And then the rest of the day seemed filled with omens of good fortune and tokens of prosperity, as though the universe was conspiring to help me celebrate.  The sun shining through the trees outside the window of  my new workspace, where I've moved from the truly cave-like cubicle I occupied the last several years.  Getting an unexpected bonus on top of a respectable pay raise.  Being given a gift card by a co-worker, "just because."  The extra light at the end of the day in this first week of daylight savings time.  Leftover eggrolls and steamed pork buns in the fridge at home . . .

And most of all the realization that next to some very basic yet perfect things, the ratty little problems at work and in life just don't matter.  Who says 13 is an unlucky number? 

Ruby makes it lucky.  Because today is her birthday.

Ruby Adine Brook

Born today, March 13, 2013, 12:43am.

May the four winds blow you safely home

Reached home about 8:30.  Work tomorrow, so I need some sleep and don't have time to write more after getting the essentials out of KD and into the house.  Will update when I can.  For now, I send out love and thanks to all the many friends who were right there when I needed them, who are teaching me how to be an RVer, showing me I can do things well out of my comfort zone, try new things, and most of all, to realize that life is worth living.

To all these dear friends, whether they are living in a house on wheels full time or part time, I send blessings.  May the four winds blow you home again.

The Shadow of Leaving

Right now we are at the Country Kitchen in Coachella for dinner.  We pulled out of the Slabs at 3:30.  There wasn't time to write more in the rush of leaving.  I will have to update later with at least some of the many things I want to tell you.  Here is the Country Kitchen at the TA. 

The Other Side of The Canal

I had wanted to visit East Jesus while I was here, but various dark mutterings by campers in our section of Area 10 had warned me away.  I should have just laced up my shoes and walked over there.  I am a Burner and a Black Rockan . . .I am not afraid of freaks who play with fire, why should I have been timid about meeting the freaks of East Jesus?

But somehow it never happened.  Until, that is, Wednesday.  One of our highly respected senior campers is Chili Bob.  He is known to give tours of the area to show people the interesting things in and around Slab City.  The other morning when I took him a cinnamon orange roll fresh out of KD's oven, we chatted a bit.  I asked him how far away the ordnance was that we were hearing, the weapons fire and enormous booms.  He said they were probably many miles away, and reminded me that sound travels fantastically far out here in the desert.  He asked if I'd ever been on the other side of the canal, and when I told him no, he said to come get him around 9 or 10 the next morning, and he would take us to see part of the military training facility that headquarters much of the activity taking place on the Chocolate Mountain Aerial Gunnery Range.

And so, Wednesday morning we loaded up for the tour.

First we went across the canal (where I'd never been), through the Slab City golf course, 18 holes amid the rocks and brush, each hole marked with a tall, brightly colored flag, and balls painted neon colors to help in spotting them in the dun landscape.  There were golfers out there, and keepers who take it upon themselves to do the work of keeping the course in good order.  Then we were onto the perimeter road which runs along the military controlled land.  I was surprised to see little in the way of fencing, but there were many signs posted all along the berm of the road warning of danger from unexploded ordnance and making it plain that entry was forbidden.  In other places there were rolls of razor wire and concrete barriers, big tires and earth berms that demarked smaller ranges used for handheld weapons practice.

This perimeter road was well maintained, and we rode along in Chili Bob's capable Suzuki Sidekick which skipped nimbly over the rocks and ruts.  At one point we left the main road to explore another loop, washy and drifted with loose sand and gravel, where it was more important to be careful to not get stuck.  Chili Bob told us stories about getting stuck out there, once in a big mound that rattle snakes had made in the middle of one little used road.  The car dropped to the frame, and he had to call Seann to pull him out.  He told us about the various roads, where some of them went, including one that we could see arrowing away ahead of us, straight up into the Chocolate Mountains. 

It was a perfect morning to be in the desert on the back roads.  Brilliant sun and the air with that sweet, clean desert scent, a boundless blue sky all around.  I was seized by the old desire to go further out, to see where the road led, to get far into the back country where there is nothing around but desert and mountains.  But this area is in some ways more remote than other desert places I've been accustom to go wheeling in, and it would be a good idea to go with an experienced desert rat who knew the country.  Chili Bob said he planned to go out with just such a person one of these days.  Maybe next year I'll make it a point to go on a real 4 wheeling expedition with someone who knows the area.

But today we contented ourselves with exploring a few loops of road that Chili Bob hadn't yet been on, until we found ourselves back on the main perimeter road that skirts the gunnery range.  From there we headed back toward the canal, and Bob showed us the old earthen canal which was replaced by a concrete lined channel when it was apparent the earthen one wasted too much water.  The old canal bed still has water in it, and is choked with salt cedar, an invasive species that was brought in because of its beautiful pale rosy flowers.  It fills the waterways and sucks up thousands of gallons of water, crowding out all the other native species and upsetting the natural biome of the desert.  It is being battled in Colorado with a beetle which has been introduced to take it out, and the insect is making its way down toward the Salton Sea and will eventually (so the thinking goes), be successful in finally controlling the pesky salt cedar.

We reached the entrance to the training base, and stopped to take pictures of the sign, which was rather forlornly stuck in the ground without much in the way of an eye to making a tidy entrance.

Around a corner we could see the gate and a collection of buildings that made up the special forces desert training complex.

There was a fearsome looking barrier that was closer to us than the gate shown above.



It's really not the sort of place you want to go knocking on the gate, so we took a couple of quick pictures from a safe distance and then hastily left.

Back along the canal we saw wildlife watering ponds that are supplied from the canal.  They are small ponds that get a continuous stream of water, keeping them fresh.  They are in place to give wildlife an alternative to getting into the canal and contaminating the water or drowning.  I wanted to get a picture of one, but we were moving along too fast for me to do that. 

There were hidden thickets of salt cedar and palo verde, with some kind of palm growing sporadically mixed in.  Little almost hidden pockets of greenery, some of which had been taken by people who had been living there for many years.

Then we headed back to Slab City, and Chili Bob asked us if we had been to East Jesus. We said no, so he swung in that direction.