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Location: The Promised Land

This is my triumphant return to the lifestyle I've always furthered and forwarded in my heart, at least, so let's blast off. The first half of my life has been incredible and the second segment will include more splendors than any Ottoman Sultan could ever have wished for in his golden repose. Anyway, fasten your laughter belt cuz you're on a collision course with wackiness.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Familiar Falcon

I didn't expect to find a wormhole in time on the streets of Santa Fe, New Mexico but, there it was, right next to me, a 1965 Ford Falcon convertible. "That's my father's car," I said, memories spinning all around me. There could only be a couple left on the road so maybe this was my dad's car. Ford only made the Falcon convertible for that one year, 1965, and his was white with a white top. One day we discovered a rip in the back window and he had a black top put on which made it unique. In '74, he, gulp, traded it in on a new Mustang II which we thought was a neat new car at the time, but that old Falcon is worth a nice house in L.A. now. Anyway, I came out of shock just in time to grab the camera and snap this shot. I would've loved to have talked to the driver, especially after seeing the tag. Click on the one down below and check it out.

Seeing the original spoke wheels and the old extended housing on the tail-lights opened a little door in my head that had been closed for about thirty years. I don't like the scoop they put on the hood because that appears to be the only thing that wasn't factory original. Probably the reason I have a convertible myself now is because of that car and rides under canopies of green leaves in the Marietta summers. Normally I change the wallpaper on my computer every week or so, but I think this baby will be up for a while.
Now, just a quick rant about Chip Caray. I had to MUTE the audio on the Braves' telecast today because it was making me scream out loud. The little anti-christ spent an inning and a half, all while game action was flourishing, talking about the Florida Marlins and why Orlando is a better city for that team. AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! He wouldn't quit. I played a little game and would wait five minutes and then turn the audio back on and see how long it would take to hear Florida Marlins during a telecast of the Braves versus the Phillies and usually I couldn't make it more than 11 seconds. I screamed aloud at least four times and I'm not that tense kind of person, kinda quiet really. Ok, that was the condensed version. I could go on for pages and I might yet because it's still May and I'm ready to picket the stadium. Today was the worst I can ever remember and I'm afraid there's more to come.


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