I've been joyfully overwhelmed with longer days and extra surf and frisbee tosses and woodworking! Happy baseball season, everyone. Feels grand to be out of the offseason muck and steadily frolicking towards summer with my balls blowing in the breeze. Hope yours are doing a bit of the same.
I've been cruising to the peninsula in a '91 Toyota pickup lately and it got me wondering. I'm fairly afraid to ask, but you guys ever hit an animal on the road? Did it bother you in a different sort of way? It's something I am ever-stressed about when driving in the dark around the peninsula especially. I consider it one of my most mortifying scenarios, to make the decision whether to put a suffering animal out of its misery.
Some of you are aware I'm a big fan of birds. There was a time in my life that I hated and feared them (redundant); but the past decade has reshaped my relationship and propelled a fear into a fascination into a love. The only time that I've ever hit an animal on the road (/knocking on my head), was when a bird unavoidably flew in front of the Vanagon, smacked against the grill, and slid straight upwards, until it was caught by the wiper blade and remained there, neck snapped, limply blowing in the fucking breeze (not unlike my aforementioned balls right now) as my mouth dropped and a couple stunned tears came to my eyes.
Speaking of, on my way back from surfing this past (Easter) Sunday, I stopped at a joint called The Rusty Tractor. It's an old-fashioned, home-cookin' family establishment, surrounded on the exterior by - you guessed it! - rusty tractors. More notably though, the interior featured some classic taxidermy work. You'd never know the food sucked and the bartender didn't know how to make a manhattan by looking at the walls:
Also, I recently stopped by La Push to see my friend who inadvertently became the subject of the last RRRR. I took this picture during my visit with him. He has an abundance of unique items adorning that cozy and humble abode.
And just for fun, here's a guy paddling out this Sunday into a serious current, as seen through my sunglasses lens. He lasted about five minutes before he realized the wave wasn't worth the effort of fighting the current; and so kindly saved me the trouble of finding that out for myself.
Rumpus on. The baseball compels you.