Friday, August 12, 2011

Keeping Up With Scott P.

Please if go off point DON'T BE NICE ABOUT IT JUST TELL ME!!!

I would like to think that my first trip down Route 66 was of my own FREE WILL but I left Boston with a heavy heart.

I have no regrets of the relationship that I developed with the Mother Road as she helped me through one of those rough patches which was mostly about me getting over myself.

My standards are strict and often too strict for my family, friends and associates to follow but as far as having a method to enforce those standards I am not strict enough with myself.

This brings me back to the title of this blog.

I made a pact with my self last November to write every day for a year;

got up early every day and wrote because morning was my best time to get my best out of me.

Then about a month back I would skip two to three days of writing per week.

What I have up to this point would be equal to a 300 plus page novel give or take a 100 or so pages.

I actually planned to write a novel, a mystery about revenge along the Mother Road.

This blog is about 26 post behind my planned schedule along with a post each in two of my other blogs.

Thanks to  Scott Piotrowski who some how motivated me by him challenging himself.

 This is my third week in a row about MY passion which is Route 66.

Actually this is about where I started from.

I took this picture when I came back from my first trip on Route 66 as you can see this is the first Public Beach in America two blocks from my House.

I bought the Route 66 stickers shown here on the rear window of my Voyager but was not worthy of placing them there until I drove back through Chicago on my was back home.

This bridge no longer exist it was part of the reason for the Big Dig.  Now all the roads the bridges were for are in the Big Tunnel.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Pay Day!!!

It's been along time since I looked forward to a paycheck.  I don't really like getting paid since Uncle Sam has to have some of it as small as it is when he can't do much for me because I aint some big corporation that leaves the country to avoid taxes when times get rough and forget what America is all about and how they use to, support this country through the tough times.

How could I be so stupid when the former employee asked me if I had any tools because he forgot his keys?  Thank God the local cops knew what the real situation was,

I knew where this stuff was made, this was back in 2003.

Can't Ride a Bike but would love to try one of theses.

All of these shots were taken in Missouri 2003.

Friday, July 29, 2011

East Meets East Meets Route 66

At 10:05AM I called Steve to let him know that I was running late and where I was on the road, told him where I was arrived shortly after 11:00AM, 11:01 to be exact according my phone record referenced.

I was an hour later than I planned but my eight year old GPS without updates got me exactly to where I was going.

When I got to Steve’s house I had to recheck the address because the GPS was too accurate for me.  I called Steve when I arrived.

My cell phone as usual acted up as Steve failed to hear my voice causing minor confusion.  Steve came out looking just like his picture but a tad older version.

My mind went wild into its analytical mode wondering before entering the house what was this guy about having very little by way of family on his Facebook page except for the great selection of Route 66 pictures.

I knew very little about Steve but the inside of his home was very clean and tidy.

I was,  my usual self, talking my head off .  I don’t even remember what I was talking about but I did have to pee.  When I came out of the bathroom there was a news paper article on the wall facing where I was standing or magazine article about a local woman who worked on the an Ellis Island committee which Steve told me was his mother then went on to tell me of his heritage.  He knew of actual people who came through the country that way but not from his family. 

Steve asked me if I would like to have lunch first.  He made a nice healthy fruit salad. I told him that I would prefer to see the collection first.  Thinking to myself, "seeing the collection will help me digest the poisoned breakfast I just had at Mickey D’s then eat the healthier salad after seeing the collection."

Steve mentioned that his dog just got put down the day before.  Steve did look distraught over his recent loss.  I still think of my Stumpy who suffered longer than he had to because we couldn’t bear to put him down.  My oldest daughter made the call for us.  That phone call worked far better than my email to the vet I never wanted to get.  But a chance to show off this Mother Road Collection sure seemed cheer Steve up.

Considering how challenging walking is to me anyway while navigating to the garage that was in back of the house, thinking now how some flagstones might have made it a tad easier for me to maneuver toward the garage.  Steve went ahead to turn the lights on while I trudged through the grass, shorter than mine at home due to my lawnmower being turned into a tiller by my daughter's boyfriend who helps us out once in a while. 

When I was within ten feet of the door what I could see as I approached was Route 66 paraphernalia.  I took my first shot five feet from the door.  I was amazed to see a ’62’ Thunderbird sitting there in mint condition, a soft top convertible that folds into the trunk.  

This was way more than I bargained for.  It was almost as great as being on Route 66 itself at a fraction of the cost in time traveled and gas.  There was so much to shoot I was lost.

Steve had everything sectioned off nicely.  Everything was in clusters and hopefully I’m using the right words.

This is a museum with history; everything right there in Steve’s head.

He knew every piece intimately.
 Like This Bob Waldmire original.

Looking around I could tell this man had a passion far beyond mine.  As one can see from these pictures I’ve posted it is worth telling this story that I’ll have no problem blogging about.  I took well over fifty shots before realizing this was overwhelming me.  I thought it might be worth having a video, shot by the man himself and I love putting people on the spot, so I asked.  Steve not only shot video for me he was relentlessly generous and knew exactly what to shoot.  This was one of many.  The man knew how to pan.   

As one can see from within this collection there are many great shots that Steve took him self.  Some of what he had pictures of and how they were taken seemed to outweigh the value of actual signage and or objects from the Mother Road itself.

If this museum in Albany NY was food from the Mother Road and I was eating it; I was full for now and knew I would want to come back and eventually eat the rest in smaller amounts as I paced myself and of course ask prepared questions. 

Friday, July 15, 2011

My Appology To My Fellow Roadies, But Depression Hurts!

It's the economy could be an excuse,

my mothers death but that was back in the beginning of 2010,

it could be my oldest daughter who came over on Mother's Day right after my wife and I came back from spreading my mothers ashes on Revere Beach, with her drunken boyfriend who seemed to let out on me what my daughter has been holding back but venting to him,

it could be my only grandson who is now Twelve by my youngest daughter has no home because we're the "Arguing Grandparents" and chooses to stay with his father's dysfunctional family and his ailing grandmother.

My grandson sleeps "Somewhere" on weekends while his mother and father sleep here without him.

This bothers me.

It bothers my wife but she refuses to deal with it.

If I threaten to say anything to my daughter, about how she has a great job but didn't even have money to bail out her sons father on MLK day, my wife nearly had a nervous breakdown.

My youngest daughter who has a twelve year old son has also been living here for over a year to get her finances together has nothing but a fake Gucci Bag and 12 year old BMW to show for it.

I am a prisoner without my free will and would feel like I was running away if I hit the road.