Anxious to get on the trail, they just park their VW in the middle (dead center) of the road.

Sometimes you just have to say, “What the fuck.” (Miles from the movie Risky Business).  These folks seem to follow that line of thinking when it comes to their free-spirited parking style.

"Hello, AAA? Yeah, a snowplow just rammed my Subaru off the side of a mountain. Yes, I was halfway parked in the road...on a blind corner. What's your point?"

Pre-run thoughts this morning…

It’s difficult to express my distaste for where I live now; it’s sunny and 60 degrees and I’m surrounded by lush green mountains after two months of Pacific rains.  Yeah, I’ll get out today for a couple-hours-run but, like most days, it’s half-hearted and solitary.  If I use my running as a measuring stick for my enthusiasm of my CA surroundings, I’d have to say I’m running on or near empty.  The only remaining fuel that powers my low motivation is the image of the Rockies and their trails, and their peaks, and their people, and their vistas, and their sky, and everything.  I’ve spent more sleepless nights over the last few weeks than I’ve spent days running.  With a tough little 50k just 20 days away I force myself out the door for uninspired time on my feet.  3 miles of pavement up and down the same trail, then back track home on the pavement.  Dark gaps of listless life fill the time between runs.  California has become a tremendous disappointment for me.  The visions I’ve carried of it for the last 25 years have dissolved into a murky visage with less substance than the morning fog so familiar to me now.  The dilemma is substantial but as each day rounds to meet the arcing light the decision becomes more lucid and steadfast.  I’ve never believed the cliche that life is too short, however, I do feel that certain stages of life are truly too short.  With that in mind, I choose to make this short stage of my life worthwhile, regardless of the uncertainty and potential hardships.

]]> http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2010/02/28/thin-oxygen-in-colorado/feed/ 0 footfeathers parkinthemiddle parkintheroad http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2010/02/16/been-a-while-but-the-parking-gods-are-strong/ http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2010/02/16/been-a-while-but-the-parking-gods-are-strong/#comments Wed, 17 Feb 2010 03:23:58 +0000 footfeathers http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/?p=48 ]]> So, over the last year I’ve snapped photos of parked cars here and there but never got around to posting them. I took the following and felt it needed publication.

This dope is a prime candidate for one of those charming large set of anatomically correct balls that some hillbilly invented to adorn the trailer hitch of vehicles like this one. We’re at the grocery store here; the owner is likely one of those shoppers who leaves his cart cockeyed in the middle of a narrow aisle while deciding between Fritos and Doritos.

"Seemed like a sweet young man."

Bomb suspect’s teacher, family dismayed, shocked (AP)

This is regarding the xmas day attempt by Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab (U.F.A – unidentified flying ass) to blow up a Northwest flight in Detroit.

Go get ‘em media wizards! Just once I would love to read that a crazy, killer, terrorist, molester, ax murderer, nut bag actually gave some clue of his crooked personality in his outward appearance.  e.g. “Family and neighbors say it was just a matter of time before bomb suspect acted out.  That boy is crazy! -bomb suspect’s grandma.”

Side note:  Detroit?  I’m surprized anyone even heard about the incident in that ghost town.

Does that watch have a sun dial?

In an article by, of all sources, Yahoo’s News Blog, the topic of  politicians, and the public in general, using Twitter is discussed.  This ridiculous still image from a video of the Terminator Gov talking about the deal to tackle the $26 BILLION budget deficit in CA raised some eyebrows due to not only the silly props (knife) but also the medium used (Twitter).  It seems obvious to me, if you dive like a hawk onto a defenseless field mouse, which equals the Gov’s mental level that with the knife he’s saying, “I’m planning some big budget deficit cuts.”  Still…oh, what’s the point?  Government has become such a fantastical show that you have to view it with the same suspension of disbelief as you would a science fiction movie like “Men In Black”.

Also, what’s with the elephant fascination in the picture?  Is this guy the next Teddy Roosevelt without the brains or gumption?

I was already tired of Twitter after 19 posts on it but this article and the piece on NPR today drove the 140 character nail in the coffin for me.  I’m done using it, just like I was done using Facebook back in January (never looked back and never regretted it).

Like most true MJ fans, I’ve been a bit dismayed at the craziness that has surrounded his life both personally and physically.  Most were shocked at his death, but after the initial sadness when I heard the news over the radio while driving along I-80 crossing over the Utah/Nevada border, I realized I wasn’t surprized.  It reminded me of Elvis’ death.  I was only 11 years old and in NY visiting my father.  He strolled up to my in the courtyard where he lived in Manhattan in that August afternoon; I was climbing one of the trees there and he simply said, “Elvis died”.  Like any memory in everyone, I remember things in photos in my mind, Elvis in white sequined jumpsuit, twisting youthfully to “Jail House Rock”.

It was the same with Michael Jackson.  I immediately envisioned him on the cover of “Off The Wall” (my favorite album).  For the next 8 hours of driving I listened to stations playing MJ songs and talking about his (death mostly) life.  I’m sad but not shocked by it all.

The lottery for tickets only surprizes me in that they aren’t selling the tickets.  With the immense budget problems (IOUs for repayments???  It’s like “Dumb and Dumber”), I figure $1,000 per ticket should at least cover LA’s budget deficit.  They could have a red carpet walk with “E” tv there, along with all the other paparazzi, just like the Oscars.  Seems odd that the poor and jobless residents of Los Angeles are going to have to pay for the police to manage the multitude of people trying to get close to the Staples Center.

Where are we going as a country and as humans?  Is this an example of our intelligence and sense?

“What are you getting rid of?”  I responded.

That’s how it began, my struggle with enjoyment of fine things, at least things I found to be fine, and my desire to live minimally.

Grant had a chair, a Charles Eames chair that I called, “the mushroom chair” (circa 1948).

I assumed he would be keeping all of his backpacking gear, so this is the one thing I wanted.  I ended up trading a nice watch of mine to which I had no real attachment.  Grant wasn’t dumb (probably still isn’t) and I knew that he knew the value of the chair, so I had to offer up something of equal value.  It would be the only thing I would take off his hands before he moved from Michigan State University to Fairbanks Alaska the day after we graduated, driving the entire way there in his beloved Ford Crown Victoria, which promptly died upon reaching Fairbanks.  Other than one letter from Grant, explaining the primitive cabin (no plumbing, no electricity, no heat) and temporary job (school bus driver) he found, I never heard from him again.  It’s been sixteen years.

I loved the chair, the shape, bent wood, stained dark, faded Herman Miller sticker under the seat.  The awkwardness of the chair is likely what attracted me to it.  I couldn’t sit at the dining room table in it, lest my chin would be at table level and about two feet away.  There are no arm rests on it.  I would sort of just have to ease back into the wide, curved seat until my back compressed into the leisurely-tilted backrest.  This chair is good for cocktail parties, reading, and smoking a pipe.

After college I lugged it back to Flint, Mi where I lived with my mom for a couple months trying to get my bearings and a job.  I landed a job with EDS (Ross Perot’s company that he sold to General motors for 700 million).  Many nights I came home to my apartment in Detroit and sat in my Eames chair strumming away awkwardly at my Seagull acoustic guitar.  When I moved to New York the only piece of furniture I brought was the chair in my Saab 900 Turbo.  My apartment was sparsely adorned, but cool as hell with my chair.  I dragged it with me again to Boston when I moved there, always taking up too much space in my car in an overbearing and inefficient way.

When I considered moving away from New England I somehow decided to part with the Eames chair.  My girlfriend at the time, the one I regret losing to this day, asked her father if he was interested in it and he immediately wanted to see it.  He bought it on the spot.  The second I pulled the car door shut after dropping off the chair and leaving his place I regretted it.  I don’t remember what I sold it for but feel that it wasn’t worth it.  Perhaps I could use the chair as an excuse to veil my reconnection with that girl I so stupidly lost.

I have come to realize that the fascination with this chair is an indication that I appreciate simple things, simple designs, simple living.  Life is uncomplicated with few material things.  The simplicity of sitting comfortably on something with few ornaments, no excess fabrics, no lace, or brass tacks, just bent wood, some bolts and rubber bushings on the seat and back for cushion.  Contentment through elegant function.

]]> http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2009/06/22/simple-appreciation-or-envy/feed/ 0 footfeathers eameschair http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2008/11/30/hungry/ http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2008/11/30/hungry/#comments Sun, 30 Nov 2008 15:14:00 +0000 footfeathers http://timespassenger.wordpress.com/2008/11/30/hungry/ ]]> So, since moving to Colorado I must say the opportunity to capture humans in cars and inane parking jobs is much more rare compared to the Southeast. I may have to pick up a new topic. I’m beginning to find humor in the activism I see here on a current basis. Not as much in Denver, but in Boulder, oh yeah. Just about every day I see great political bumper stickers or some sort of busy intersection signage and people displaying their beliefs and desires; everything from “Bush is a traitor” to “Cow poop is the energy of the future”. I hope the last one doesn’t catch on. Burning cow poop in a fireplace doesn’t really set the same mood.

Anyhow, I simply have been re-assessing the peculiarities of my new area and will begin exploiting those soon, just like I did with the outrageous driving, parking and vehicle selection in the South.

Careful what you do in public. Someone may see you.
-Time’s Passenger

To begin with the benign, here we have the apartment resident with out of state plates, after living here a year. He parks here numerous times a day/week/month, so you assume he would get it right eventually. I guess not, but he’s from New York, so I’ll cut him slack for not having it all upstairs to begin with. That, and his girlfriend (or whatever she is) always seems to get out of the passenger seat in her pajamas and a 40 oz malt liquor. Now I just feel sorry for him, and think he did a great job parking under the circumstances. heh, heh, heh.

Anyone who knows me knows what I think of people who drive Hummers. The great thing about Hummers is that I don’t need to comment on them often because they are so ridiculous, that they sort of speak for themselves. I could never be friends with someone who owns one. I can barely talk to a Hummer owner and keep a straight face. So, when I saw this dope picking up laundry, parked on the cross-marks and halfway in a handi spot, I felt like walking up to him and telling him that I work for US News and World Report and I was doing a story on the gas prices in the US, and that my angle was the gluttony of tools like himself were the second leading cause of this crisis (mis-speculation being the first). Then I’d laugh, tell him I’m joking, and smack him in the forehead.

“Hey, Champ, don’t mind that baby stroller on the sidewalk.” This nice maneuver I found at my favorite watering hole. Looks like this guy watered his hole beforehand. Granted, this small lot is often full, but the sad part is that there’s a full lot next to it (where I parked before snapping this shot). So, I surmise this person is stupid AND lazy.

Whoa Big Blue! Though I didn’t see this driver, I imagine he is one of those 17 year olds who live in Myers Park (a wealthy neighborhood in Charlotte, NC). You know what I mean; the ones with mom and dad’s old SUV and one of those comb down haircuts that make them look like penis heads (literally).

Yeah, not much to do with parking, but I thought I’d include it anyway. I had the fortune of finally going to an emergency medical center with a five day straight fever. It’s the first time I’ve been to the Dr. since, well, over a decade, due mostly by my dislike and frustration with the US’s health care system and insurance mafia. Sitting on the cracked plastic table awaiting my angel to write a prescription I was a bit surprized at the scarcity of supplies in the room. I think I saw a bug on the wall too. Wonder what he had.

It’s been far too long since my last entry, and I’ve witnessed and captured so many good scenes of bad parking, ridiculous vehicles, and many other odd things that happen every day, that my phone was full of photos. Alas, when I sent them all to my email, only four made it to their destination. So, there are six or seven great, silly photos floating around in some data line, waiting to be found.

Luckily, the four that made it through are wonderful and leave me full-of-wonder.

I’m not sure where to begin, so we’ll just start with the most common parking faux pas I see….
The “heavy nose” parking maneuver. A lot is going on in this photo that only a trained eye (and socially twisted mind) can appreciate. For starters, we have the “synchronized stop”. This is seen most commonly in parking spaces and at red lights, where one challenged individual has pulled too far into a spot or over the crosswalk at a light, and an equally challenged car pilot forsakes rules, painted lines, and even pedestrians to pull even with the already offending vehicle. This guy gets bonus points for driving a 1981 Honda wagon, a rare and coveted vehicle (if you’re a garage sale shopping hermit with 17 cats).

This next gem was given to me by my friend, Audra. I usually only use my own original images (since anyone could google search similar photos, but that’s boring and shallow). However, this is good for numerous reasons with the main ones being that it’s funny looking, and there’s a good story behind it. It seems Aud and some girlfriends went to a very crowded restaurant/bar while traveling and were forced to park in this spot, which was surrounded by other vehicles in similar situations (or so I was told). Well, after ten cocktails and a couple hours of appetizers, the ladies walked out to an empty lot, save for their off-road chariot. Nice job!

For this next genius, I could go on and on about manhood, insecurities, cranial capacity, IQ sufferings, and just plain bad taste, but I think the image speaks loud and clear…

I’M A LITTLE MAN WHO SITS ON A PHONE BOOK TO DRIVE.

This last (and best, in my opinion) photo was taken at our group run (our running club). Now, I witness handicap spaces being misused every day by people who don’t appear to need them, other than being lazy and stupid. But this is classic. This one is definitely not lazy or stupid, but absent minded a little?…well, maybe. The irony, of course, is that she’s healthy, active, and actually dressed and ready to go for a run (not to mention the handicap sign is as big as a highway billboard). I should work for National Geographic.