Temporarily Off In Another Dimension

Made it to Taos.
May hang in the vicinity a day or more.
Other than that, nothing to say, and that's about it.

Lot of traffic in Taos proper. Some great streams and camp locales up in the hills.

Don't Pick Up Hitch Hikers around Here

Today was spent driving through northwestern Oklahoma. It is not a highly populated place, unless you are a cow or grasshopper. I drove for miles and miles through relatively flat amber waves of pastureland--most dead grass, I think. Then I see a yellow warning sign telling me not to pick up hitch hikers because they may be escaped convicts.

I'm thinking, "Well, what if it's Cool Hand Luke? I'd have to figure a way to make room for him". Then there is the "correctional" facility. Probably a misnomer. I wonder how much actual correction goes on, or how much goes on that is civilly and morally correct. I'm not one who likes the set up, nor am I one who thinks the "soft and cushy" treatment of prisoners is why we have crime on the streets and repeat offenders. Actually, I do not think the people who consider anything more than bread and water, and an 8x8 cell with a roommate is cushy, have the slightest clue what they are talking about.

Anyway, I saw no hitch hikers. But the next sign pointed left to a lonely and long looking little road. It said, "cemetery". I guess that is where the last guy who wanted to hitch hike home from the cushy prison is.

It seemed to fit; the warning, the Big House, the bone yard. I was in hard core blues country.

Oddly enough, I saw the same warning in New Mexico, but their Big House was less big, and if there is a cemetery to go with it, they don't put signs up so you know.

Finally, I see just a hint of mountainous terrain in the distance and made it to New Mexico. I need to look at the map to get the name straight, but I believe the spooky town was called Singer. There were some cars parked here and there, and of course an abundance of pick up trucks. There was a cafe/hotel that had a sign which said "open". A tiny town with sidewalks and such but absolutely no sign of human activity.

I parked and got out to check out the Brown's Hotel and Cafe closer, but everything looked old and unfriendly through the window, and it looked like you had to go through a foyer or something to get to whatever was there; no easy escape. I'm not sure if you can check out, and who knows if they have you for dinner. That is, if real people live there. Maybe zombies.

Not one other person on the sidewalks, any cars just drove past. No one else stopped. A dog in a fenced in yard half a block away barked at me, half heartedly. Probably a zombie dog.

When I was leaving and about a half mile out of the eerie place, I encounter some chubby girls walking hell dogs in the middle of the road, walking toward me. Smack in the middle of my lane. I moved to the left lane since there was no traffic. They had to hold the dogs which were straining as if they wanted to attack my car. Crazy. I was going 50 and the speed limit was 55. The girls and their dogs appeared abnormal, and not in a good way. They were headed toward the zombie town. I guess I could have turned around and followed them but I am a coward. Curious as I am regarding where they would go and if maybe all the vehicles in town are theirs, fear caused me to keep on truckin'.

So, I wound up in Cimarron. I stopped too much along the way. Once I stopped and Glass mountain park--maybe that is the name--and hiked up a mesa like thing. They have a trail cut and even steps cut in and such. I met a rattle snake and called an end to the hike. We both lived and neither of us offered the other any formal or informal greeting.

Cimarron presents itself as an artsy place, and I guess it is in a way. All the people I've met here seem like they may be on LSD. Nice enough, but kind of crazy. Hard to explain, but it would not surprise me to see people here running in circles trying to catch their tails, all the while shouting undecipherable threats at their pals. What I've seen is not too far off from that. But they are fairly nice to strangers. I have the feeling they aren't sure who is a stranger and who isn't. Charming thing in its own way.

I walked up the road and bought some books from a guy who keeps his motorcycle inside the used book store, and has about thirty overpriced used bicycles outside. All priced at $100 each. They aren't terrible but I don't think they run much more than that new. Used cheap bikes, not cheap used bikes.

I needed some reading material. One book by Michener, I know I haven't read. Prince of Tides by whatshisname, I am not sure. I may have read that one.

Once again I am bowing money on an Inn. This is the canyon Inn and it is OK. I think the tenants and owners are all on LSD like the rest of the townspeople I've seen. To her credit, the angry lesbian two rooms down is a looker, when she isn't sneering with a look that says, YOU ARE A MAN, YOU MUST DIE! AND I KNOW YOU WERE LOOKING AT MY ASS. PIG. I don't know, something about the sneer said all that, so I looked at her ass when she turned back around.

Needless to say, I like it here, but doubt I'd want to live here. There are various artsy crafty shops here and there, and that is good. Maybe the candle shop melts down people from Singer, the zombie town, to produce their art. Remind me to consult a map to be sure of that name. It is not a place you'd want to run out of gas or break down in after dark, or even before. Thinking of that place at night gives me the creeps big time. How could there be absolutely no activity, yet vehicles were placed as if someone should exit one of the shops? I so no activity behind the store windows, but you couldn't see much. Zombies never clean their windows.

That's alright because Cimarron's active populace makes up for it. None of the activity here makes sense to me. It seems to please the tail chasers though. I'm going to risk drinking the water so if I seem radically different next time anyone hears from me, you'll know why.

Tomorrow, provided the water does not induce insurmountable obstacles, I will hit the tried and true Taos campground. I look forward to it.

Foggy Phone Pic

Since Mr and Mrs N1 are being quite slow in sending me pics from visit, I decided to post, without permission, the one from my phone. Since they and the Mrs' parents were snapping away, I thought I'd have access to images and no need to run the Flip or take pics myself. Brats, all of them!

Baby daddy in background trying to run away and leave the child with afore mentioned abandonment issues. The horror of it leaves me too sad to write more.

I Lied: not on the road yet

One more day, and that's it. Then I will head west. I'll leave early tomorrow.

Today I started off late, then communed with the spirit of Standing Bear at standing bear monument and park. The message was clear--go back, book just one more night, go to the noon gathering of other souls who've been to hell and back, pay homage to the Pioneer Woman monument, seek out a coin laundry.

All that is left is the laundry part. I'm not sure why I like this pace so much. My old great aunt-by-marriage also is of the opinion that Ponca City is one of the best towns ever. She's never been much of a world traveler but I guess she knows. She was familiar with the shoe repair place--The Bootery.

I guess I'll change into my Speedos and see if I can pick up chicks in the park. Lots of parks here, so I can sashay around in all of them. I'll bring chocolate and nylon stockings for the local wimmins. That ought to work well. After all, some of them may be French.

Magical Mystery Tour

Too bad that tag is taken--them danged mop-headed Beatles--because it sure fits this present phase of the BallisticTour.
I'm still in Ponca City, and I could easily fall in love with this town. No explanation for that, but I kind of like this middle of nowhere area. Besides they have a Lowes and a good shoe repair shop. Not to mention the two spiffy lakes nearby.

It appears that, if one isn't picky regarding employment, jobs are no so hard to find here. Cost of living is not bad, and having free wifi throughout the city, that would cut some costs. The place is small, but large enough that opportunities abound. My attraction to certain places does not follow formula or reason, just how it makes me feel. I never can say exactly why.

All day was spent in Foraker which is legally a town, I think, but only a few old dwellings are there, and a church, and lots of horses and cows. The last six miles of road you travel to get there is barely two lane, no lines painted on it--as basic as it get before you resort to dirt or gravel.

My parents grew up there, with my mother being valedictorian of the largest senior class in their history--either 12 or 14 students. Her sister's class had 5. My mother's parents and their parents also were from this area and put in many years in Foraker. Some of the coolest, real deal cowboys ever were in that group, like Uncle Charlie and Uncle Don, who gave me a lariat rope when I was seven or so.

I spent the day talking to Charlie's last wife. She's in her early 80's. Charlie like them a ot younger than himself when her met her, hence he kicked and she's been around long since. Not everyone in the family was that keen on Janette, but I alwas liked her. Her mind is pretty sharp and I liked spending the day discussing, life, death, health sickness, and books with her. She's read plenty and was a great one for talking to about writing and reading. Her little dog, Monet, was kind of fun, too.

It was definitely a surprise when I showed up because I gave no warning. I didn't even knw where she lived, however it wouldn't have taken lng to knock on all the doors in town. I didn't though. I encountered an elderly couple on one of the two or three little streets. He was working on some farm device he was planning to sell for scrap, and she almost walked into serious collision with my car. My cat-like reflexes saved her very life.

They were great people and knew my great or grand(?) aunt and where she lived. Of course all they had to do was point to "that white house over there". They even knew her well enough to assure me that she'd be happy fr me to go knock on the door. They were right. She said she wouldn't have ever expected to see me show up but she had no hesitation recognizing my name and knew my brother's name without prompting. I guess word travels so she knew a little of where I'd lived over the years and whatnot. At least she knew I had lived in North Carolina.

It was another magic experience. I think I saw the house where my mother lived and I know I saw the foundation of what used to be my Grandpa's general store close to a hundred years ago. Their life back then was so different from what we know. It stil is to a degree. Back then it seems that one's purpose was more basic and more evident. Survival was more directly linked to your effort and a bit more primal, yet in many ways people were more civilized.

People being people, you always have the judgements, opinions and things that aren't pure harmony. Still, there was a sense of honor and character that gets a little convoluted as our civilization evolves--or devolves, depending on your outlook.

It was a last minute decision to come here. Only minutes before leaving Dallas did I decide to take this route rather than heading toward Amarillo and points beyond. My path toward Taos my take me close to some scary fires so that chapter will also be written on the fly.

Severe thunderstorms were predicted with possible elephant sized hail and probable Armageddon. The 89 year old woman I met at the shoe repair place said it would probably pass us by like last time "they predicted all that mess". She was right, but I've never seen such heavy dark clouds that looked like these; all covered with stripes and a well defined edge. Dark as night to the west, covering the sun but blue with happy white puffs to the east. Very weird effect.

So much of this trip has become happy coincidence and unexpected encounters. It's almost scary. I'm convinced it has been well worth the blind leap of faith based on I don't know what.

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It gives me pause that I find towns like Ponca City to be so appealing. I mean, I grew up in Miami, have lived in the DC area, and am a lad of exotic places and ocean sides. It makes no sense. Yet, I often am drawn to the less populated, less self congratulatory towns. Those places that think they are chic and sophisticated are generally shallow, mean, and uglier than they know.

The Tragedy of Dysfunction Passed Down From Generation to Generation

Is it any wonder certain of my clan has abandonment issues? This is tragic. When will the chain be broken? Much as I love my nephew, N1, and his wife, Mrs N1, their obvious neglect of my darling Grand Niece makes me wonder if I shouldn't take action. I may have to take her and raise her myself.

Viewing this shocking photo would surely sway any court.***


***as long as cousin J isn't a member of the jury---she thinks it was right that my lariat rope was confiscated when I was but a child fighting for freedom and justice

Town Review: Ponca City, OK

First of all, and this is very subjective and unscientific, the town has a good vibe. And why not? They have Kaw lake, Ponca lake and The Pioneer Woman museum. I like pioneer wimmins.

Another mind blower is that wifi is free, city wide.

I must confess, I opted for another motel night. 100 degrees at 730, and not much to go on re the campground, and I caved. I'll be better prepared next time.

The check clerk said she and her husband and five kids moved here less than a week ago. The already found a house--400 per month, and I believe that is a mortgage. She was hired on the spot at the second place she asked. Her husband may get on with the refinery, which I assume is the big employer in this area. In her words "they just give away jobs like crazy here". They moved from Witchita.

Her positive attitude and a kind of innocence I can't quite describe combine in a very charming and upbeat impression. But there is something cool about this place.

Before landing at an inn I drove some of the neighborhoods and the parks by the lakes. It is clean and I like these streets and houses. A nice place.

Somewhere up and to the left right is Foraker where my parents grew up and my cowboy grand and great uncles lived. I will go there tomorrow. It is as tiny a town as is possible and still have a name and a dot on detailed maps.

Many of the ancestors who dwelled here in the 19th and 20th centuries were old school cool. One had gone out to the CA gold rush on horseback and returned with more than one notch on his revolver. He was one of us who has the vagabond gene, however he managed to maintain a wife and numerous offspring. I missed that part and I blame it on the Woodstock nation and the "greatest" generation. They filled my head with mush and it took forever to empty out most of the trash.

On the way here a Mexican named Israel, whose 10 year old son spoke much better English, was by the side of the road with a tire off of his explorer and the family milling about. He waved his thumb so I stopped. His spare was on a rim with a different lug pattern and his tire was shot.

Lacking much room, I stuffed things from the passenger seat in crevices here and there to make room, and put the tire in back on top of the cargo cover which is covered by a reflective tarp. It worked. He had a cousin in Oklahoma City who would meet him and they, being mechanics, knew where to get another tire put on. He called cousin X and it was set. I dropped him at I35 and some street with no anglos to be seen.

Israel was ready to pay me, asking how much did he owe me. I never said I was asking a fee so that idea was put away with a "Nada. Adios, y buenos suerte amigo". Or words to that effect. He got the gist of it and I traveled on. I guess the family had provisions, plus his son was a rather competent little butter ball of a boy. Sometimes it is worth finding out how the story will unfold to stop for strangers.

My cousins, J and S, outdid themselves again showing me a great time, introducing me to more distant relatives and making me play harmonica for everyone. I played for aunt, and for my other cousin's daughter, her husband and their kids. Possibly the best looking couple in America. Their kids were 8 and 10 years old. The girl was oldest and the boy was probably younger, if you see my logic. Very fun and nice kids.

Cousin S pulled out some sheet music and I played along. We did very well, I think. Not everyday that you show up to a stranger's house, inform them that you are kin, then give a mini concert and leave. This trip is like that. I gave the little girl my C Lee Oskar harp. She is learning piano and seems to be musical. She found it al amusing and intriguing.

My cousins are a very good influence on me because they keep me from retreating into my usual cocoon of isolation. Very smart people and not strangers to the School of Hard Knocks.

It goes without saying I couldn't get enough of my little grand niece. She told me the meaning of life is orange molasses. Not 3 months old and I interpreted dozens of words and phrases. I hope her mom recorded them all in her baby book. Especially the first word, which was "Gruncle!"

I promise to spend more tent time in the coming days instead wimping out. But, really, temperatures of over 100 ought to be a little bit of an excuse.

I am trying to watch the money but it is hard, like watching someone give you a shot or draw blood. Sometimes it is easier to look away.

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Quick Austin econolodge off of 183 review: Don't Do It! I'm sure it is a suburb of hell. Sleep in your car and you will feel better. The econolodge from hell is no place for people of our breeding and culture.

The second night I stayed with N1, Mrs N1 and baby, V. The night before I felt it would be kind of an infringement upon Mrs N1's parents and would tighten the space in ways. I stand by my decision but not by my choice of inns.

Helped With Horseboy fence; they think I'm an idiot

Something about the way I am causes people to either think I'm an idiot, or they are intrigued and like to discover things about me which they seem to respect. Horse boy's dad is of the former camp. Many arrogant Brits are, I've found.

They were nice enough, especially at first. That is because the Brit chick there was talking to me while he was doing other things. He's the top dog, and, except for the cowboy who lets him use some of his pasture and fixes fences, the guy is surrounded by adoring women. The dynamic is clear, and I can't say I blame him. Resent, yes. Blame, no.

Anyway, they are hard working, tainted by mild fame and have that hipper-than-thou British-Hollywood thing going. Needless to say, there is nothing I could offer the place. Or nothing that would be accepted, short of money.

Many of the tasks involved in the 100 degree fence fixing environment were things I could tell I would be much quicker and better at doing than even the cowboy. It was just one of those things where you let the dog keep his territory.

Speaking of dogs, the ones that came out there with me, the cowboy and the adoring women of various ages--all Canadian or UK people--gravitated to me and hung around me like those pictures of St Francis. It was quiet vindication. "See? Your dogs know who I am, dammit! How bout due respect?"

So, I politely left after close to three hours.

I mentioned writing and the guy grilled me about it, wanting my book synopsis in a short sentence, which I never gave him. He assumed I'd never known or talked to an author, telling me, "this is what writers ask". No, it is not. Depends on the writer, the context, and much else. He's not buying anything so who owes him the discussion on his terms?

He ticked me off, I guess, and I think that was a two way street, although I believe I was much nicer and more gracious.

No way you can show u to such a place and expect anything, so I am ashamed of my disappointment and small degree of anger. I know I could be very beneficial to their operation and they don't seem to think anything, except I do not fit their narrow set of parameters for what is cool, therefore I am not worth much.

I'll write my damned book, get it sold and send him a signed copy with an insulting inscription. I like some Brits, but some can exude a type of snobbish arrogance that makes you want to fight the Revolutionary War all over again, tagging them as first casualty.

I once heard that there is n such thing as a free education. Let's chalk it up to that.

One puzzler was if he and the Brit chick have a thing going. Maybe not, but she would if he would, I think. Almost a cultish ambiance there.

They are smart enough people, but I guess I felt snubbed, and that makes them dumber than they realize.
It happens. Some people cannot get past "that". Maybe it is my curse and maybe it is my undeserving person filter.

Subaru Service Dept Review

Finally, while in Dallas, I was able to resolve the horn honking when I start up issue. Cousin J suggested I go to Sewell Subaru, across from Love field in Dallas.

The place is first class. The customer lounge is spiffy with plush furniture, a soda machine at your disposal, and big pot of sweet tea, and it is not like the usual waiting area. It is more like a nice hotel lobby.

The service area itself has tile floor, very spacious bays and not a spot of trash or grime anywhere.

The tech fooled with some loose wires on a tiny box that the selling dealer had on there for some security reason. That was all it took. They said they could remove the box altogether but it would cost about $100 because the guy would have to rewire the stuff back where it goes. They seemed to think it would be OK and weren't pushing to do it so I didn't.

The diagnostic charge is $80, which is explained up front. They charged $0.00. The service writer was competent and able to explain everything in detail. All of them seem competent and not trying to mouse anyone. I decided I was due an oil change since I've driven maybe 5000 miles so far and had them do it.

I wish they were in SD county because I'd rather have them do the brakes and timing belt when due than anyone else.

So, I highly recommend the Sewell Subaru service department.
And I did not wait all that long. I got there at 2 and left before 3:30.
5 stars.

Magic Is Still Mojoing

Too many things have been going on in the last few days to leave room to write. Many of them probably wouldn't excite most people, but it has been great from my view point.

My Dallas cousins give me lessons in being gracious and most other facets of life. I've had great time seeing the town with them and visiting my aunt. I also had a good visit with my cousin J's son, J. He's one upbeat good hearted guy and I think his looks will help his various efforts in the marketplace as well.

Now I'm in Austin. I spent the day holding and entertaining my not yet three months old niece, V. I'm pretty sure she was talking to me when no one else could hear. She said, "Gruncle!". Then she laid an egg, so to speak.

I have to admit, I like babies. They are at that stage I never outgrew--trying to make sense of all the sound and fury around them. She may like everyone, but I think we hit it off in any case. It's like holding a giant bobble head doll, with the object being to make sure the head stays attached. Rarely, if ever, have I seen a happier, more relaxed new mother. Now I know the pics of her working on the computer between contractions were the real deal. She said she didn't want to think about being uncomfortable and figured the baby would come pretty soon. Or something like that.

Tomorrow I'm going to meet the Horse Boy foundation people at the ranch where they work with autistic children. It's about an hour from here. I was there but it is not easy to find. I ended up at someone else's place. He said he's does work for them sometimes but today was too hot. I followed him there and no one was home. He called them up and they said 10am tomorrow would be a good time to come.

I have no idea what I expect there. I just felt a strong desire to go there from the time I watched the Horse Boy documentary. After that I will come back and adore my little grand niece and enjoy the fine view from my nephews back deck on the north west outskirts of Austin.

All the people I have connected with on this tour have been supernatural and magic. I must have needed something and they have given it. All about the love I guess.

In some cases I had apprehensions, preconceived ideas, etc., but each time those were laid to rest and I have been blown away by the acceptance, hospitality, and kindness. I hope that these people receive something of the like from me. I try but can't imagine they get as much out of it as I do. I hope so anyway.

It is still HOT everywhere. Today was 100 degrees.

How my brother raised such sons, I will never know. He broke the chain. These guys are sane and appear to have better than average functionality in their relationships. It didn't seem possible considering ...

I hope I'm around long enough to keep this little niece straight and not selling out to The Man. Tomorrow we'll work on teaching her to sing the blues.

Maybe I'll have pics to put up soon.