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Out with the Old…

When the employee bus drops me off at the airport, there are several routes I can take to get to work. My favorite is to walk through the parking garage. Here, I walk through the area where the lu

xury cars park. It’s fun to pick out my next car, and my favorite cars are usually the Mercedes.

Driving Mary for the last time
I’ve had a thing for Mercedes since I was in high school, when I loved to watch the TV show, Dallas. JR Ewing was my favorite character. He was so much that I could never be, so it was fun watching him connive others, drink too much bourbon, bed all the hot women, make money hand over fist and drive his luxury Mercedes, which back in the mid eighties, was really ‘the’ car people thought of when talking about luxury cars.
You can imagine my thrill when Mom bought a Mercedes! I couldn’t wait to ride in it, and it was perfect for her. She bought a small silver convertible that was not only fast, but looked oh, so sleek!
So I’m always walking through this airport garage, “No, no, I’d take that, yes, Oh, a Mercedes, I’ll definitely take that, but not that color, no, no, no…” picking out cars I’d like to drive home.
The last time I bought a car was twenty years ago. Yes, I said twenty…a two with a zero following closely behind. I was living in Maryland and was making good money running a Harley-Davidson dealership. I had a Toyota 4runner that I loved, and with that job, I needed a lot of space, as I did all of the shopping for the dealership, going at least once a week to the huge warehouse store for sodas and snacks for our vending machines, bathroom and cleaning supplies and from time to time hauling tons of food for various special functions in the dealership. I also enjoyed camping, so having the space for tents, coolers, shade structures, chairs and booze (you can’t expect me to camp out without libations!) was necessary.
Already loving my first 4Runner, it came natural to get another one. I loved that car. When I drove her, I became one with her. I could squeeze through openings that sometimes had even me impressed that I’d not scraped the sides. I could glide right into car wash tire pulleys without anyone to guide me in. I could feel when she needed a tuneup and knew when a tire was running a bit low. I named her Mary. She and I drove through New England and then across the entire country, after I got my job with Mother Airline and moved to California. She took me to Burning Man seven times, and camping more times than I could possibly count. She towed travel trailers, including my beautiful and beloved Argosy, with such ease that I’d forget I was towing anything. I never felt a need to replace her.
Until gas went to over five dollars a gallon in 2008, but even then, it was only because she was getting so expensive. Soon the prices came down again and we were back to our love affair.
She brought me back to my home in Texas a few years ago and she never complained about the heat, something she wasn’t used to. But she was getting old and quirky- the door often didn’t register that it had been opened, so the doors wouldn’t always lock automatically. She didn’t always beep when I armed or disarmed the alarm system. She was twenty years old with only 145,000 miles. Sadly, it was time for me to move on.
I so wanted the Mercedes that I’d been lusting after for over thirty years, but I’m still not in a financial position to be comfortable in making that kind of commitment, and even though I’ve been asking for one every Christmas, no one seems to be willing to buy one for me. I’m no JR Ewing and just the maintenance on one can be daunting.
JR Ewing’s 80’s Mercedes from TV’s “Dallas”
So into the dealership I went, whining about the Texas heat and demanding ventilated seats to help keep my back dry and drove out with a new Hyundai Santa Fe. Not just a Santa Fe, but the top of the line Santa Fe, with the top of the line extended warranty. It may not be a Mercedes, but I can assure you it is a nicer car than the Mercedes enjoyed by Mr. Ewing! There are so many bells and whistles on this thing, there is surely a bell and whistle shortage.
I’ve yet to settle on a name for my new baby, and I’ve taken photos of her, making sure to include Mary, who sat there alongside, watching me. She was sad, yet still very proud. I’d joked to the salesman that I just may cry when I hand her over, and I was assured that I would not be the first to do so. I had a chat with Mary as I drove her to the dealership, telling her how much I had loved driving her, how thankful I was, how proud, how sad and, yes, I nearly, but not quite, cried. I thanked her and wished her well.

She was a great car for me and hopefully her next owner will treat her well and she can still be a great car. If you’re interested in Mary, she’s at the North Freeway Hyundai in Spring, TX. And if you buy a car from this really nice dealership, tell them Penguin Scott sent you and I’ll share the referral fee! (Ask for Jeff!)
My new ride with sad Mary in the background
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View to a Thrill: Rainy Days and Mondays (I Always get Around)

Exploring a very wet Rhode Island town

The wettest layover I ever had was in Providence, RI. That is, it used to be. As is the case for Pasadena, CA, I’d never been to Providence and I wasn’t going to let a little rain spoil the chance for me to get out and see it.

The good traveler that I am, I have my handy compact umbrella in my bag. It’s a magical umbrella…if it looks like rain and I take it, the dark clouds will mock me and hold their juice. If it looks like rain and I leave it in my hotel room, the skies open overhead. The only time it isn’t magic, is when it already raining; the perfect test of whether or not I’ll actually venture out.
A rainy day in Hong Kong
Wet tracks in Frankfurt, Germany

When I was in Brussels for the first time, I spent my first morning exploring in a light drizzle. I was recently caught without my umbrella in a wondrous thunderstorm while exploring Ft. Lauderdale, taking refuge under the carport of an apartment complex. Chicago, London, Denver, Narita, Frankfurt; rain, quite damp, gully washer, ame, regen mit donner!

A storm hits Ft. Lauderdale

In the case of Providence, it was sprinkling out, so the umbrella came with me, of course. This was near the start of my artistic photography experiments, so I enjoyed exploring new places, taking photos that interested me. I like textures and angles, and found some great things to shoot.

Textures on a wet street in Rhode Island

It was when I got about as far away as I had hoped to venture and started heading back towards my hotel that the skies truly opened up. Never mind, I was not going to let it spoil my adventure. I wandered through a neighborhood under a small umbrella with camera in hand. When I got back to my room, my pants were soaked up to the knees. My shoes were as submarines just surfacing from a long sea voyage. My socks were literally to be wrung out and laid to dry.

US flags in the rain
And here is a tip for helping speed the drying process on clothes…bring out the ironing board and run the iron over them. The shoes you just have to pack in the plastic bag that normally hangs in the closet. Or, if there is an air conditioner under the drapes (and if they don’t stink) you can use the hangers with the clips to hang the pants on the drapes and have the air blow on them for a while.
Using a hangar to dry out pants.

And then there was my time in historic Pasadena, California, home to the famous Rose Parade on New Year’s Day. How many times I’ve seen the wondrous floats clad with beauties waving from among legumes, flowers and seeds adorning elaborate parade floats. There I was, just a few days into the new year, with the bleachers and stands still in place waiting to be disassembled, admiring the architecture and quaint shops. In the rain I ventured out, with umbrella in hand. I’d never been to Pasadena, and who knows if or when I’ll find myself back again. After all, I’ve yet to return to Providence.

Wet street in Pasadena

In Rhode Island

I don’t care what day it is or how wet it may be. I got this job to see the world and that’s why I travel with my umbrella. I want to get out and explore. Doesn’t matter if it’s a rainy day or a Monday, I won’t let it get it me down. Out and about I must go!

Feel free to click on your reaction and leave comments below! 

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My Glorious Hike


Photo by Penguin Scott in Colorado

by Penguin Scott 4-4-09

It was a glorious day. The sun was out, the sky was a crystal blue, a slight breeze came off the ocean and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. I decided to head out for a walk before going to a party later in the evening.

A few days ago, my neighbor had told me about a place one can hike to get a grand view of the surrounding area. Living near the Pacific and just south of San Francisco has its benefits. There are great mountains and trails for hiking, as well as areas right along the ocean. It’s such a fantastic mixture of city and wilderness.

I drove to the place she told me about and started up. It was a tough little hike, going at such a great incline. But I could tell from looking at the summit the view would be a reward worthy of the effort; so I kept going.

Before long I reached the summit of a hilltop. And the view really was spectacular. Not only could I see the whole area in which I lived in Linda Mar and the ocean stretching out to the West, but I could see north, along Highway One, to part of the city, and even the tops of the Golden Gate Bridge were visible.

Here, there was a fence, some shrubs and a lone tree, which, for a short while, provided some necessary shade. I erred in wearing a long sleeve black shirt, as it was absorbing all the heat of the sun and made me very warm. I couldn’t take it off, since I had no sun screen, so I endured.

Were I to cross this fence and follow the trail onwards, I could see that it wound around and led to the top of the horizon of hills that ran north and south. I didn’t plan on a long hike, I should have turned back at this point, but I just knew if I kept going I would get to see the bay. So I crossed the fence and kept going.

The weather was fantastic, a cool breeze was blowing. Hawks circled above. Small birds played amongst the shrubs and moles, or some sort of burrowing animals, made their presence known from all the little mounds of fresh dirt they shoved from under the trail. I was really enjoying this hike, seeing the mountains in the area from a perspective I’ve not seen them from before.

I finally reached my goal, the summit, a long and often hard trek, making me breathe harder than I have in a long time, my feet ached and head was tired of the hat that shielded my face from the sun, which still bore its heat down upon my back as it sunk lower in the West. But I reached the summit to see a stone. Upon reading it I found this to be the place from which the Portola Expedition first discovered the bay. I felt like I was on top of the world.

Below was the San Andreas Fault, with a small lake. Beyond that was highway 280 and SFO airport. Then the bay and across that was Oakland. I could see San Bruno Mountain and Coyote Point. Behind me, that massive ocean; and to either side, a trail embarked upon the ridge of the mountains.

I sat for a bit and watched it all. I saw a mouse scurry across the trail to my left. I could smell the eucalyptus trees nearby. I was all alone.

After a bit, I decided I needed to head back. My little one mile hike was now a four mile hike and I needed to get ready for the party. I had hoped to nap first, but it was almost six and I needed to leave at seven.

Getting back to my car was much easier than the hike up. There were some spots I had to climb on the way back, but for the most part, it was all downhill. As I got into my car and drank some water I had there, I thought to myself, I’m really going to regret this tomorrow! My feet were sore, my thighs pulsed and my knees ached. Getting old is so much fun!

I got home and saw that I had about 20 minutes to get ready. I started the shower and undressed. The hot water felt really good. I felt an odd sensation on my left calf, like a flea bite. I instinctively reached down and scratched it, noticing that there was more there than just my leg. I looked down and shrieked in horror! I was in such a state, that at this time, I cannot correctly recall the noise that emitted from me, but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty- or very manly.

“A flipping tick!” (Flipping was not the actual word I used, the word I used was more manly.)

I wanted to faint. My alpha cat, Adelie came into the room and was quite vocal. I had scared him and he thought there was something very wrong. I called back to him to calm him down and tell him I was OK. I finished cleaning myself off, avoiding the tick, which looked to me like I’d done some damage to it when I tried to scratch the itch. It was just there, its legs dangling, looking like it was trying to dig to China via my leg. I thought of an ostrich with its head in the sand, the way it looked on me.

Adelie was having a fit, even so much as to come into the shower with me! I had a tick in my leg and a cat in my shower, screaming at me, while I’m yelling back at him to calm down and get out. I turned off the water and dried off. The cat is calmer now, but wanting to rub up against me. I’m wet, so I push him away, still very conscious of the eight legged creature attached to me.

I couldn’t quite reach the tick, it was on the outside of my left calf, and I’m very right handed. I threw on some shorts and a shirt and headed upstairs to find my neighbor for her assistance. She was not home. What do I do now? Mom! She’ll know what to do.

I called Mom and told her what was going on and asked what I should do. She started laughing. A lot. Now I had a tick in my leg, my cat was still meowing for me and my mother was laughing at me.

“Mom,” I said, “I don’t think I can laugh it out. What’s so funny?” She didn’t answer, but sensing the tension in my voice, she told me to hang on- she’d look it up on line and call me back. It was either that or go to a hospital. “I was about to go to a party,” I told her.

“Oh, there should be lots of people there to help you.” But I didn’t want to drive to a party with a tick in my leg! But then I realized, a good friend of mine who just became a nurse may be there. I’ll call her! No answer. I tried her boyfriend. No answer. I tried another friend who I knew would be there. No answer. Was I alone in the world? I’d been trying to call friends all day and had not spoken to a soul!

When Ra answered, I told him I was so happy he was alive! I told him of my invader and made an odd noise. He told me to calm down, but didn’t realize my odd noise was just for dramatics and not really indicative that I really was freaking out. Although, I really was freaking out. I thought I might pass out, even. (OK, I really have a thing about ticks, if you’ve not noticed by now!)

Calm Ra told me he thought one was supposed to twist it out, counter-clockwise. “My counter-clockwise or the tick’s counter-clockwise?” I wondered. He told me to hold on, he would look it up on his puter.

He told me to use tweezers to pull it out, grasping as close to the body as possible, being careful not to squeeze the bug’s guts and head into my skin. I nearly passed out again. He told me to be strong and that I’d be fine. After telling me to call him after it was done, we hung up.

I had to make like a pretzel to get to where I could reach the bugger with the tweezers. It took a few tries; I nearly passed out, yet again. And it was now that I realized the tick was still very much alive, as it started waving all of its legs around, not very happy to be plucked from such a juicy morsel! I finally got it out and didn’t see anything left in my leg, like its head. I got a magnifying glass out and took a closer look at it and it looked as if I got it all.

I called Mom back, it’d been over ten minutes. “I could be dead now, you know; you haven’t called back!” She had tried, but the phone was busy, I guess while I was trying to call others. She told me the same thing Ra had, and it was as if she was using the same web site. I told her I had already done it and seemed successful. She said I should I keep it, in case they needed to test it for Lyme disease. But I’d already washed it down the sink. “Well, if you get redness or swelling or feel feverish or achy, like with a flu, you need to see a doctor.

I asked why she had laughed before. She said she thought it was embarrassing. To get a tick? I asked. “Well…” she replied. Oh, Mom! “You live in the mountains, don’t you get ticks?” “No,” she replied. They’d just been lucky enough to never get them.

“Put some alcohol on the bite area to disinfect it,” she told me. A check in the cabinet showed there to be none. “I think I threw out the bottle when I moved a few months ago. I’d not used it in over a year, so it got trashed.” She asked if I had any vodka. “Well, of course, I do!” Great idea.

I went to the kitchen, followed by Adelie, grabbed a shot glass and poured a shot of vodka into it. Adelie started up again with the agitated meowing, so I bent over to give him some loves. Thinking again about the tick sticking out of my leg made me shudder. I stood back up and seeing a shot of vodka sitting on the counter, I drank it. Another shudder, and then the realization that the shot wasn’t for consuming, but for the bite. I poured another shot and took care of the bite wound.

As I finished getting ready for my party, which I now almost didn’t want to go to (oh, the trauma!), I texted my other best friend, Blossom. He freaked out, thinking I got it from last weekend when we had been camping, and wondered if he had one. I had to reassure him I got it from today and that he’d know by now if he had one. Then I was out the door.

En route, I got a text from Ra asking if I was still alive. I’d forgotten to call him back. I couldn’t text him back while in the car, so when I arrived at the party, I replied via text that I had fainted and had only now woken up. Within the minute, the phone rang with Ra calling to see if I was kidding or not.

I was kidding, but I was still traumatized. Each little itch or odd feeling was another tick. And I could still feel the last one in me. When I closed my eyes, I could see the tick with its head buried in my leg. I shuddered and grabbed the glass of wine Wonderboy handed to me and tried to lose myself in the party.

I was encouraged not to give up on hikes due to this event. I assured them I was not done hiking, but had just learned how necessary it is to use Off. That, and, when enjoying the view and the birds and the mice, to keep an eye on the ticks! Shudder!