Dressed

It takes a while to wash and wax a "'Stang".

These days, quite unlike my garagecentric peers, I'm not getting the work done in a day nor pressing clay, but I get close with a water bottle, paper towels, and Mother's Gold Carnauba.

Detailing's now a lonesome craft for this old bachelor: who for?  What for?  Why?

Ownership has changed my life by relieving me of the truck-with-cap style both for camping, impromptu sleeping along an Interstate, and ferrying amplifiers and sound systems to gigs and putting me in something more appropriate for classic American touring.

Add GPS (got it) to the "Silver Mustang 2000" and go!

Still, this is not quite the day for going yet: for one thing, I've got the gig at the Georgia Boy Cafe this evening; for another excuse: two door panels and the rear section want for that good old carnauba wax.

She Hasn't Changed -- I Have

She hasn't changed.

I have.

I'm not sure for the better, as I am crankier, more isolated, older, however not yet a "grumpy old man" -- in fact, these days, I'm looking rather dapper, rather like the guy who drives that car and parks it across from the bar where he sings on Tuesday nights (previously covered here: The Georgia Boy Cafe at Park Circle, Hagerstown, Maryland) -- but well on the way if I remain much longer locked down here at my desktop.

It's spring.

That silver Mustang needs to be driven.

Find me Tuesday nights on stage on the other side of the neon at The Georgia Boy Cafe at Park Circle, Hagerstown, Maryland.

Lunch at The Georgia Boy Cafe, Hagerstown, Maryland

I've been singing at The Georgia Boy Cafe for about seven weeks now (Tuesday nights, from around 7 to 11 p.m., or whenever), and we seem to have worked out a funny system: they pay me and feed me (both quite reasonably) and I keep returning to diet off the excess cash.

:)

With the conflict of interest acknowledged, the reader may just have to check me out on this claim: The Georgia Boy Cafe on the south side of Hagerstown, Maryland serves up a mighty good spread of down home southern cooking, and as the Applewood Grilled Salmon might attest, somebody has been doing the (New) Low Country Cuisine homework or picking up ideas, salmon itself not being particularly southern but lending itself well to to a right saucing in the company of coleslaw and cornbread.

The winter's day: cold with snow flurries.

The motivation in addition to having worked up a marvelous appetite while working on another blog: the landlord had shut off the water in the building for maintenance in the plumbing arena.

Ordered, sampled, or devoured (mostly devoured):

• A glass of Penfolds Hyland Shiraz
• A crisp garden salad graced with an oil and vinegar dressing
• Applewood grilled salmon served over white rice with coleslaw and cornbread sides (well, I started out healthy)--all of that served on a hot plate!
• A grown-ups house "Iced Caramel Macchiato"
• A positively mouth melting "Chocolate Orea Cheesecake
• A deep, strong, hot cup of Javarama coffee

My ambitions in music may have to go on to produce more than I can spend back at The Georgia Boy Cafe, for most certainly--and this for friendly atmosphere and gracious service as well as the strong southern cookin' (and bartendin')--I'll be stopping in regularly to eat for some time to come.

Cardinal, Hunter Hill, End of Winter

Cardinal, Hunter Hill, End of Winter, originally uploaded by James S. Oppenheim.

Sunday, March 6, 2011 -- heavy rain. A day indoors, a few minutes looking out the window, waiting, gathering . . . .

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Cloud Sea Moon II

Cloud Sea Moon II, originally uploaded by James S. Oppenheim.

I haven't been entirely without travel these many months, but whether to family or friends, such have yet to become the excursions I had in mind for "Mustang Highways". While howling at the moon and intending to spend much of the winter scanning archived 35mm slides for saleable stock (suitable for decor or publication), I'm thinking about my "silver highways" kind of dreams. (For snow season reading, I highly recommend William Least Heat Moon's Blue Highways, a grand tour of the continent and a most considerate and philosophicle overview of American lives anchored among the land's most colorfully named and marvelously obscure spaces).

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Country Spur Off the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail

Country Spur Off the Cumberland Valley Rail Trail, originally uploaded by James S. Oppenheim.

We -- that should stop this blog right there -- took the Jeep (another theme killer) out for a head clearing joy ride in the country. Although "Dean" and I started out in the country, a tautological inference when hailing from West Virginia and Western Maryland, driving farther out into the countryside provides always a sharp change of scene, especially when the highway and roadway diminish to two-lane blacktop, one-lane bridges, and, finally, gravel utility roads. Dean has been, so far remains, the "gal pal". Like a cat with a tolerant owner, she brings news of her birds, present and past, alive and deadened. Annoying? Of course, but I'll call that motivation for getting my own machine washed and waxed and Out There. The two problems I didn't have when I brought her home (the Mustang, not the gal pal): high blood pressure and leukemia.

The one I can fix with exercise provided I can summon the energy; the other, "stage zero, least aggressive form," may hang over my head for a couple of months, years, or decades until some other cancer, or perhaps a flu or pneumonia pushes me down into the earth.

Whatever it is, whatever it means, whatever it does, possession of the condition has become a simple and irrevocable fact of life for me. It's good to have a Mustang (2000, six cylinder, 195HP, 28.5MPG highway, gray) for this passage. Back in the day, which was just five years ago, it looked good in the lot at the Cancun Cantina (Glen Burnie bar), and it would look as good today in the cousin's lot, Cancun Cantina West (Hagerstown) were I more in the mood for dancing, and so I may be again. I guess I'll start in the morning at the car wash.

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